seey.

✩ 𝟤1 | MDNI ✩

[seventeensbabye]

٬٬ ࣪𝓷avigation || ꒰𝓂dni꒱ ⟡ ݁₊

໒꒱ ‧₊˚ welcome to seeys, nighttime tea time! enjoy ur stay babies ✿𓈒ॱ⬭

𑁯 ۫ ݂ っ abt me | rules | anon | taglist ❀

˚❜ requests: open! ˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

( working on: drafts/reqs!ੈ✩‧

𑁍܀ ateez, &team, bnd, enha, nct, p1h,

riize, svt, skz, txt, other <𝟑 old masterlists

[seventeensbabye]

⟡ ݁₊ . ˎˊ˗ 𝓣HE 𝓑IRDS

ෆ ･ 𝓖ENRE: smut ෆ ･ 𝓦ARING: christopher bang x fem!reader

ෆ ･ 𝓦ARNINGS/ 𝓣AGS: semi public sex, drug use (canabis), language, protected sex, oral (f!r), dirty talk, pet names: baby

ෆ ･ 𝓢YNOPSIS: it was supposed to be another hangout with friends but with a new friend in the group now, it's spiraled into something more. ෆ ･ 𝓦/𝓒: 3895

ෆ ･ 𝓜.LIST! & 𝓣AGLIST!

a/n: hi babes, i know i've disappeared on you all again and i'm sorry. theres just been so much going on personally that i cant speak on. i know this isn't a req or anything but i just wanted to give you all something to read until i post again bc i feel bad. :C i'm sorry again and i love u all! <3

“Don’t make me make you fall in love.”

You’ve been taking a break from dating. After your last heartbreak, you realized you’d spent so long jumping from one guy to the next, chasing the attention because you hated being alone. But this time felt different. Being by yourself actually felt… better. Quieter.

You still had a few friends though, mostly guys. Nothing serious, just people to fill the empty spaces when they got a little too loud. Every now and then you’d hang out, keep things light, nothing complicated.

Today was one of those days. Your phone lit up with a text: “hotbox + food.”

That was all it took. You tossed your phone down and hurried to get ready.

While you were still getting ready, your phone buzzed again.

“There’s this guy coming btw. His name’s Chris.”

You glanced at it for half a second but didn’t bother replying. You were too busy trying to pull yourself together. Nothing crazy, just enough to look decent. You slipped on a pair of black leggings and a black sweatshirt, pulled your hair into a messy bun, and kept your makeup light. Just enough to leave the house and feel cute.

When you finally finished and checked your phone again, the message didn’t really mean much to you. Another friend, another random guy in the rotation. It wasn’t anything worth thinking about.

You grabbed your keys and headed outside to meet them at the car.

You locked the car door behind you and walked over to where they were parked. The music was already loud, windows cracked just enough for smoke to slip out. The second one of them saw you, the back door swung open.

Friend 1: “Finally.”

One of them laughed.

Friend 1: “We thought you bailed.”

You slid into the seat and rolled your eyes.

You: “Please. You said food. I would never.”

They laughed, passing the blunt around while arguing about where to eat. You were halfway into the conversation when the passenger door opened again.

Someone new slid into the seat.

You glanced up out of habit—and immediately had to look away.

Oh.

So this was Chris.

He was… yeah. Definitely not what you expected. Broad shoulders stretching the sleeves of a simple t-shirt, arms that looked like he spent way too much time in a gym. His hair was messy in a way that looked intentional, and his whole vibe was stupidly relaxed.

Like nothing ever bothered him.

Like he knew exactly how he looked.

One of your friends leaned forward.

Friend 2: “Oh yeah, this is Chris.”

Chris turned slightly in his seat to look at you. His eyes moved over you for a second before he gave a small nod.

Chris: “Hey.”

You cleared your throat slightly.

You: “Hey.”

Someone passed him the blunt.

Friend 3: “This is the friend I was telling you about.”

Chris took a hit and leaned back in the seat, smoke curling around his face as he glanced at you again.

Chris: “Yeah?”

You raised an eyebrow.

You: “Hopefully he said nothing embarrassing.”

One of the guys snorted.

Friend 1: “Relax. I didn’t expose you like that.”

You leaned your head back against the seat.

You: “Good. Because I’d hate to have a reputation.”

Chris smirked slightly at that.

Friend 2: “You definitely do.”

You shot them a look.

You: “Shut up.”

The car erupted into laughter.

The conversation bounced around the car after that—music, food, random stories. But every now and then you felt it.

Chris looking at you.

Not quickly either.

Like he was just… taking his time.

The third time you caught him, he didn’t even look away.

Instead he tilted his head slightly.

Chris: “You good?”

You blinked.

You: “Yeah. Why?”

Chris: “You keep staring at me.”

The guy in the front seat turned around instantly.

Friend 1: “OOOOHHHH.”

You groaned.

You: “I literally was not—”

Chris chuckled quietly.

Chris: “Relax. I’m joking.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

You: “Yeah? Because you’re the one looking.”

The car got loud immediately.

Friend 2: “Ayeeeee.”

Friend 3: “Chris starting already.”

Friend 1: “Man we just picked him up.”

Chris ran a hand over the back of his neck, trying to hide his smile.

Chris: “You all talk too much.”

Friend 2: “Nah bro you been giving her eyes since you got in the car.”

Chris shrugged like it didn’t matter.

But then he glanced at you again.

Chris: “I’m just observing.”

Friend 3: “Observing what?”

Chris looked straight at you.

You held his gaze.

He lifted one shoulder casually.

Chris: “The vibe.”

You laughed softly.

You: “Right.”

Someone clapped their hands dramatically.

Friend 1: “Anyway— FOOD.”

You grabbed the blunt.

You: “Thank you. Finally someone with priorities.”

Chris watched you for a second, smiling to himself before looking out the window.

Eventually the car started moving, music turning up as they headed to a late-night spot. The car got warm and hazy from the smoke, everyone talking over each other.

Chris stayed quieter than the others, but every once in a while he’d lean forward to talk to you.

Chris: “You actually like tacos or you just arguing to argue?”

You looked at him like he’d offended you.

You: “Excuse me? Tacos are elite.”

Chris: “Debatable.”

You: “You’re insane.”

He laughed under his breath.

Later someone asked him something from the front seat, and when he turned back around his arm brushed yours.

Neither of you moved right away.

It was small.

But noticeable.

By the time the car pulled into the parking lot, everyone started piling out while arguing about who was paying.

You stepped out and stretched, the cool air hitting your face after the hot car.

The others walked ahead toward the restaurant, still yelling at each other.

You were about to follow when you heard Chris behind you.

Chris: “Hey.”

You turned.

He had his hands in his pockets, rocking back slightly on his heels. Up close he was even worse—taller than you realized, shoulders blocking part of the parking lot light.

Chris: “You never answered my question earlier.”

You tilted your head.

You: “Which one?”

Chris: “Why you were staring.”

You laughed.

You: “I wasn’t.”

He hummed softly.

Chris: “Sure.”

You crossed your arms.

You: “You think highly of yourself, huh?”

He shrugged casually.

Chris: “Not really.”

Then he looked at you again—slow and amused.

Chris: “I just notice things.”

You: “And what exactly did you notice?”

Chris stepped a little closer.

Not enough to be obvious.

But enough that you could feel the shift.

For a second he didn’t answer.

His eyes moved over your face like he was thinking.

Then he spoke quietly.

Chris: “That you got real quiet when they started teasing me.”

You scoffed.

You: “Because they’re annoying.”

He leaned slightly closer.

Chris: “Or because they were right.”

Your stomach did a small, annoying flip.

You lifted your chin.

You: “And what if they were?”

Chris smiled.

Not cocky.

Just entertained.

Chris: “Then I’d say you’ve got good taste.”

Before you could respond, someone from across the lot yelled:

Friend 1: “AYO CHRIS—YOU DONE FLIRTING OR WHAT?”

You groaned.

Chris just laughed under his breath.

Chris: “Come on,” he said, nodding toward the restaurant. “Before they start an investigation.”

He started walking toward the group.

But halfway there, he glanced back at you over his shoulder with the same slow smile.

The restaurant was loud the second you all walked in. Music, people talking over each other, the smell of fried food hitting you immediately. Your group grabbed a big booth in the back, everyone sliding in and arguing about what to order.

You ended up on one side of the booth, and Chris slid in across from you.

You tried not to notice.

You really did.

But it was hard when every time you looked up, his eyes were already on you.

Menus were spread out everywhere while everyone talked over each other.

Friend 1: “I’m getting wings.”

Friend 2: “You always get wings.”

Friend 1: “Because wings are elite.”

Friend 3: “Get something different for once.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head while scanning the menu.

Across the table, Chris leaned back in the booth, arm resting along the seat behind him.

Watching you.

Again.

You looked up and caught him.

He didn’t even pretend to look away.

Instead, his eyebrow lifted slightly.

Chris: “You deciding or just reading everything?”

You smirked a little.

You: “I like to consider my options.”

Chris: “You’ve been on that page for five minutes.”

You: “Maybe I’m a slow reader.”

One of your friends leaned over the table.

Friend 2: “Nah she just dramatic.”

You kicked his leg under the table.

You: “Mind your business.”

Chris laughed quietly, shaking his head.

The waitress came, everyone ordered, and the conversation bounced everywhere again. Random stories, dumb jokes, arguing about music.

But every once in a while, you felt it again.

Chris watching you.

When you reached for your drink.

When you laughed.

When you leaned forward to say something to someone else.

It wasn’t subtle.

At one point, Friend 1 noticed.

He leaned back and looked between the two of you.

Then grinned.

Friend 1: “Bro.”

Chris looked at him.

Chris: “What?”

Friend 1: “You staring again.”

The whole table turned instantly.

You groaned, covering your face.

You: “Oh my god.”

Chris just shook his head.

Chris: “Y’all are obsessed.”

Friend 2: “Nah you just obvious.”

Friend 3: “Man hasn’t blinked in twenty minutes.”

Chris rubbed his jaw, trying to hide his smile.

But when he looked back at you again, his voice dropped slightly.

Chris: “They talk too much.”

You laughed under your breath.

You: “They really do.”

Dinner dragged on with more teasing, more jokes, and way too many comments every time you and Chris spoke to each other.

Eventually, once everyone finished eating, the debate started again.

Where to go next.

Friend 2: “My place?”

Friend 3: “Your place boring.”

Chris shrugged.

Chris: “We can go to mine.”

Everyone immediately agreed.

—

His house wasn’t far.

Music was playing low when everyone piled inside. Someone went straight for the couch, someone else started looking for snacks like they lived there.

You ended up leaning against the kitchen counter while everyone scattered around the living room.

Chris walked past you to the fridge.

Again… that quiet tension was back.

He grabbed a drink, twisting the cap off.

Then he leaned against the counter across from you.

Not saying anything.

Just looking.

You raised an eyebrow.

You: “What?”

He took a sip.

Chris: “Nothing.”

You: “You keep doing that.”

Chris: “Doing what?”

You gestured vaguely.

You: “Looking at me like that.”

He smirked slightly.

Chris: “Like what?”

You rolled your eyes.

You: “You know what.”

Before he could answer, one of your friends yelled from the living room.

Friend 1: “AYO CHRIS WHERE THE REMOTE?”

Chris sighed and pushed off the counter.

Chris: “Living room drawer.”

He walked off, leaving you standing there trying to ignore the weird flutter in your chest.

The night went on like that.

Music.

Talking.

People moving in and out of rooms.

But somehow, you kept ending up aware of where Chris was.

And he kept ending up aware of you.

At one point, most of the group ended up outside on the porch.

You stayed inside for a minute to grab your jacket.

When you turned around—

Chris was standing in the hallway.

Leaning against the wall.

Like he’d been waiting.

You paused.

You: “You following me now?”

He shook his head slightly.

Chris: “Nah.”

But he didn’t move.

The hallway suddenly felt really quiet compared to the noise outside.

He pushed off the wall and took a step closer.

Not too close.

Just enough to make your stomach tighten.

Chris: “You always this hard to read?”

You crossed your arms.

You: “What does that mean?”

His eyes dropped briefly to your lips before coming back to your eyes.

Chris: “You act like you don’t notice.”

Your breath caught slightly.

You: “Notice what?”

He stepped a little closer.

Now there was barely space between you.

Chris: “This.”

Your heart was beating faster now.

Neither of you moved for a second.

Then he lifted a hand, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face.

Your breath hitched.

His voice dropped lower.

Chris: “Tell me to stop.”

You didn’t.

So he leaned in.

The kiss was slow at first.

Testing.

But the second you kissed him back, the tension that had been building all night snapped.

His hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer as your hands grabbed the front of his shirt.

When you pulled apart slightly, both of you were breathing a little heavier.

Chris rested his forehead against yours.

Chris: “Yeah… I definitely noticed the vibe.”

You laughed softly, breathless.

You: “You’re annoying.”

He grinned.

Chris: “You still kissed me.”

Outside, your friends were still loud on the porch, completely unaware.

Inside the hallway though, it suddenly felt like the rest of the house didn’t exist.

The hallway stayed quiet after that first kiss, like the rest of the house had disappeared for a second.

Chris looked down at you, still close enough that you could feel his breath.

Then he kissed you again.

This time it wasn’t slow.

Your hands grabbed the front of his shirt as he pulled you closer by your waist, your back brushing lightly against the wall behind you. The tension that had been building all night finally had somewhere to go.

His hands slid from your waist to your hips, pulling you in so there was barely any space left between you.

You could hear the muffled sound of your friends outside laughing, music playing faintly in the living room, but it all felt far away.

Chris broke the kiss for half a second, his forehead pressing against yours as he exhaled.

Chris: “You sure about this?”

You looked up at him, breath a little uneven.

You: “You gonna keep asking questions or…”

Before you could finish, he kissed you again.

You let out a soft laugh against his mouth as his hands tightened slightly at your hips. You shifted closer without even thinking, and he noticed immediately.

Chris: “Yeah… that’s what I thought.”

Your fingers slid up into the back of his hair while he leaned into you again, one arm bracing against the wall beside your head.

The energy between you felt charged now—every little movement noticeable.

When he pulled back slightly, his eyes moved over your face again like he was still figuring you out.

Chris: “You’re trouble.”

You smirked slightly.

You: “You’re the one who wouldn’t stop staring.”

He laughed quietly under his breath.

Chris: “Fair.”

Your hands were still gripping his shirt, and he noticed. His gaze dropped for a second before coming back up to your eyes.

Chris: “You always move this fast with people you just met?”

You tilted your head.

You: “You complaining?”

He shook his head immediately.

Chris: “Not even a little.”

For a second neither of you moved again.

Then he leaned in one more time, kissing you slower this time, his hands resting steady at your waist.

Outside, your friends were still loud on the porch, completely unaware of what was happening inside.

Your fingers tangled deeper into Chris's hair, tugging just enough to make him groan low against your mouth.

The sound vibrated through you, straight down to the ache building between your thighs. His tongue slid against yours, hot and insistent, tasting faintly of the beer he'd cracked open earlier—sharp, yeasty, mixed with the clean mint of his breath.

You pressed your hips forward without thinking, grinding lightly against the hard bulge straining the front of his jeans.

He was thick there, the denim rough against your leggings, and the friction sent a spark of wetness soaking into your panties.

Chris: "Fuck," 

He muttered, breaking the kiss to drag his lips down your jaw, nipping at the skin under your ear. His hand slipped under your shirt, callused palm scraping over your stomach, up to cup your breast through your bra. He squeezed, thumb circling your nipple until it pebbled hard under the lace. 

Chris: "Been thinking about this since I seen you."

You gasped, arching into his touch, the cool hallway air hitting the sliver of exposed skin where your shirt had ridden up. Outside, laughter erupted from the porch—someone yelling about a bad shot in beer pong—close enough that you could hear the clink of bottles. Your pulse hammered in your ears, but it only made the heat pooling in your core throb harder. 

What if they come back inside? What if someone sees?

The thought twisted into something filthy, making you clench around nothing.

You: "Don't stop." 

Tou whispered, voice husky, your hands yanking at his shirt to pull it up. You needed skin—his skin. Warm, taut muscle met your palms as you raked your nails down his abs, feeling them flex under your touch. He smelled like clean sweat and cologne, something woodsy that clung to the air between you.

Chris's free hand gripped your thigh, hiking your leg up around his hip in one smooth motion. Your back pressed fully against the wall now, the plaster cool and unyielding. He rocked into you, his cock nudging right against your pussy through the layers of fabric. The pressure was perfect—firm, deliberate—dragging over your clit with each shallow thrust of his hips. 

Chris: "Shit, you're soaked already. I can feel it through your pants." 

His fingers dug into your ass, kneading the flesh as he ground harder. 

Chris: "Bet this pussy's dripping for me. Say it."

Your breath stuttered, cheeks burning, but the words tumbled out anyway. 

You: "Yeah... it's dripping. For you." 

You bit your lip to stifle a moan when he pinched your nipple, rolling it roughly between his fingers. The sharp sting shot straight to your clit, making it pulse.

He smirked against your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point before sucking hard—marking you. 

Chris: "Good girl." 

Then he was dropping to his knees, right there in the dim hallway light filtering from the living room. Your heart slammed against your ribs as he hooked his fingers into your waistband, yanking your leggings and panties down in one tug. They pooled at your ankles, the sudden exposure making you shiver. Cool air kissed your bare pussy, slick folds glistening, clit swollen and begging.

Chris stared for a beat, eyes dark and hungry, his breath fanning hot over your thighs. 

Chris: "Fuckin' perfect. Look at that pretty pussy, all wet and shiny." 

He leaned in, nose brushing your inner thigh, inhaling deep. The scent of your arousal hung heavy, sweet and he groaned like a man starved. His tongue flicked out, flat and broad, lapping up the crease from your entrance to your clit in one slow, deliberate stroke. You slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle the whine building in your throat.

He didn't rush. No, he ate you like he had all night—tongue circling your clit with lazy pressure, then dipping lower to thrust inside your hole, fucking you with it. Wet, obscene sounds filled the hallway—his slurps mixing with your muffled gasps. One hand gripped your thigh to keep it spread wide, the other slid two fingers into you without warning. They stretched you just right, curling up to hit that spongy spot that made your knees buckle.

You: "Oh god— Chris—" 

Your free hand fisted his hair, hips bucking involuntarily. He hummed against your clit, the vibration making stars burst behind your eyelids. His fingers pumped steadily now, knuckles slick with your juices, thumb pressing your clit in tight circles. 

The risk amped everything. the distant roar of your friends' voices, the music thumping faintly, it all blurred into white noise.

Chris: "Cum on my tongue," 

He growled, pulling back just enough to speak, lips shiny with you. 

Chris: "Wanna taste you when you cum for me." 

Then he sucked your clit between his lips, flicking it fast while his fingers crooked harder. The coil in your belly snapped. Your walls clamped down on his fingers, pulsing wildly as your orgasm ripped through you. 

Hot slick flooded his hand, dripping down his wrist, your thighs trembling so bad you nearly slid down the wall. You came with a choked sob into your palm, body jerking, pussy fluttering around the invasion.

He didn't stop until you were twitching, oversensitive. Licking you clean with soft, possessive laps. When he stood, his mouth crashed into yours—letting you taste yourself, tangy and addictive. You fumbled with his belt, desperate now, popping the button on his jeans. 

His cock sprang free as you shoved them down—thick, veined, the head flushed and leaking precum in a fat bead. It throbbed in your grip, hot velvet over steel, easily seven inches and girthy enough to make your mouth water.

You: "Condom?" 

You panted, stroking him base to tip, thumb smearing the slick over his slit. He groaned, nodding toward his pocket.

Chris: "Wallet." 

You fished it out, tearing the foil with shaking hands while he kicked his jeans lower. Rolled it on quick, then he was lifting you—hands under your ass, your legs wrapping his waist instinctively. Your bare back hit the wall again as he lined up, the fat head nudging your entrance.

Chris: "Tell me you want this dick baby." 

He rasped, teasing, dragging it through your folds. Coating himself in your mess.

You: "Chr— Fuck yes—" 

The words were barely out before he thrust in—slow at first, stretching your pussy inch by inch. You were soaked, but he was big, the burn delicious as your walls yielded. Halfway in, he paused, both of you panting. 

Chris: "So tight... fuck."

Then he snapped his hips, bottoming out. Balls-deep, pubic bone grinding your clit. You cried out—too loud, maybe—but he swallowed it with a bruising kiss, starting to fuck you in earnest. Long, deep strokes at first, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. 

The wet slap of skin on skin echoed faintly, his cock dragging over every ridge inside you. Each thrust punched the air from your lungs, your tits bouncing under your shirt.

You: "Fu— faster…"

You begged, nails digging into his shoulders. He obliged—hips pistoning now, short and brutal. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping onto your collarbone. You could smell it—salty, masculine—mingling with the sex-thick air. 

Outside, a door creaked—footsteps?—but he didn't stop, pounding harder, one hand muffling your moans.

Chris: "Gonna fill this pretty pussy up," 

He grunted, breath ragged. 

His free hand slipped between you, rubbing your clit in frantic circles. It was too much—the fullness, the friction, the edge of danger. Your second orgasm built fast, coiling tight.

You: "Chris—I'm—fuck—"

Chris: "Cum on it. Now." 

His voice was wrecked, thrusts erratic. You shattered—walls convulsing, squeezing him rhythmically as pleasure tore through you. Juices squirted around his cock, soaking his balls, the wall behind you. 

He followed seconds later, burying deep with a guttural groan. His cock kicked hard, pulsing ropes of cum into the condom, hips jerking through it.

You both slumped against the wall, chests heaving, his forehead on yours again. The porch voices faded back in—oblivious. He kissed you soft, once. 

Chris: "Told you... trouble." 

You smiled, breathless, already craving round two.

꒰ঌ taglist! @velvetmoonlght @hehebeanis @smiles4hyuck @rex-ie @taehyuns-biceps @roe-sinning @moesznz @dramatic-queen @fairyvxss @angelhyuka @mrsbyun-beak @itzynie @sh1n3-4h4na @taptaptaeyong

© seventeensbabye: all rights reserved! reposting/modifying of any fic, or piece of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed! translations are not allowed

[seventeensbabye]

hey babycakes!! been suuuper ghosty lately soz 😩 school’s literally out here fucking me up. had to slam the reqs closed real quick BUT that don’t mean i’m gone forever, i just needed a sec to breathe 😤💀

i’m grinding through all the reqs i got when y’all went full speed demon ⚡💨 y’all too fast and i love it 😭✨ i promise i’m doing my absolute best to finish eyes on fire as well, i know some of u are waiting and i see u 👀🔥 just… pls… give me a hot sec.

but fr fr i love y’all 💌 i’m gonna try to find some kinda steady schedule so i can write + take reqs without my brain collapsing 💀💀

ohhh and if u wanna be on the anon list 👀✨ make sure when i open the reqs u got ur emojis READY okokok 💖💀

anywayyyy love ya’s, nightnight my pookies 🌙💤💖

[seventeensbabye]

⟡ ݁₊ . ˎˊ˗ 𝓑ABYBOY

ෆ ･ 𝓖ENRE: slice-of-life, slow-burn, smut, fluff ෆ ･ 𝓟ARING: asakura jo x f!reader

ෆ ･ 𝓦ARNINGS/ 𝓣AGS: teasing, praise kink, obedience, touch-heavy flirting, whimpering/soft whines, protective/possessive energy, submission, dacryphilia hints, mild jealousy, art/campus setting, fingering & oral (f!reciving), unprotected sex (yk better).

ෆ ･ 𝓢YNOPSIS: jo is a quiet, shy art student, lost in sketches and ceramics. you can’t help teasing him, brushing his hands, and testing his obedience. he’s shy, sensitive, but he trusts you more with every touch. ෆ ･ 𝓦/𝓒: 3272

ෆ ･ 𝓜.LIST! & 𝓣AGLIST!

the art building wakes up before the rest of campus.

the halls still echo a little, footsteps too loud against concrete floors, sunlight barely stretching through tall north-facing windows. jo likes it this way. early means quiet. quiet means he can breathe.

he’s already there when most people are still asleep, sketchbook open, pencil moving in soft, practiced strokes. hands, mostly. always hands. he draws them like they’re something sacred. curved fingers, careful tension, the way palms tell stories without words.

he doesn’t notice you at first.

you’re leaning against the doorway, watching him with your arms crossed, expression unreadable. the kind of presence people feel before they see. someone passes behind you. one of the football guys, loud even this early.

“damn, you’re fine, you—”

you: “no.”

just one word. calm. effortless. he stops talking immediately. jo’s pencil pauses when the room goes quiet again. he looks up, eyes wide, startled like he’s been caught doing something private.

j: “oh—hi. sorry, i didn’t hear you.”

you step inside, heels clicking softly, gaze drifting from his face to his sketchbook.

you: “you’re here early.”

j: “i, um… yeah. i like the light better.”

you hum, leaning over slightly to look closer.

you: “you draw hands a lot.”

his ears turn pink.

j: “they’re expressive.”

you: “they’re honest.”

that makes him look at you. really look. you sit on the edge of the table beside him like it’s the most natural thing in the world, knee brushing his leg. he stiffens but doesn’t move away.

j: “do you… need something?”

you smile, small and unreadable.

you: “just wanted to see what you were working on.”

your fingers hover near the page, not touching. he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. the pencil starts moving again.

and for the first time in a long time, jo doesn’t mind being watched. by the end of the week, jo starts expecting you. it’s subtle at first. the way he glances toward the doorway when he sits down. the way he listens for footsteps that don’t rush or hesitate.

you show up between classes, always unhurried. sometimes with a coffee you don’t offer him. sometimes with nothing at all, just your presence filling the room. he pretends it doesn’t affect him. it does. today you drop into the chair across from him, chin resting in your palm as he sketches.

you: “you always get that look when you’re concentrating.”

his pencil stutters.

j: “what look?”

you: “like you’d do anything if someone told you how.”

he swallows.

j: “i’m just… focusing.”

you lean forward, elbows on the table.

you: “you’re really good at it.”

praise lands harder than teasing. he ducks his head, ears warming.

j: “thank you.”

the room fills with quiet again, broken only by the sound of graphite on paper. jo relaxes into it, until you shift closer, your knee brushing his this time on purpose. he tenses. doesn’t pull away.

you: “sorry.”

he shakes his head quickly.

j: “it’s okay.”

it feels like permission. outside, raised voices drift through the open window. laughter. someone shouting his name. one of the guys from ceramics class, loud and careless. jo’s shoulders curl in instinctively. you glance toward the window, unimpressed.

you: “they always this annoying?”

j: “kind of.”

you: “you don’t have to talk to them, you know.”

he blinks at that.

j: “i don’t want to be rude.”

you smile, slow and knowing.

you: “you’re not rude. you’re just quiet.”

he risks a look at you then.

j: “you don’t mind?”

you: “no.”

you reach out, briefly covering his hand on the pencil. just a second. grounding. intentional.

you: “i like that you don’t talk much.”

his breath catches. later, when you finally leave, jo realizes something unsettling. his sketchbook is open to a page he doesn’t remember starting. it’s you. not detailed. not perfect. but unmistakably yours. and he doesn’t erase it. jo learns things about you without meaning to.

it’s hard not to, when people talk the way they do. your name travels faster than you do, carried in half-whispers and exaggerated stories. untouched. unbothered. impossible. the kind of girl people try once and never again. he sees it play out in real time outside the student union. he’s sitting on a bench, sketchbook open but forgotten, when a group of guys pass you. one of them peels off, confidence loud and unearned.

“you should let me take you out sometime.”

you don’t even slow down.

you: “i’m good.”

“c’mon, i’m just asking—”

you stop walking. turn just enough to look at him.

you: “and i already answered.”

something about your tone shuts him up. he mutters something under his breath and backs off, embarrassed in front of his friends. jo watches, stunned. when you spot him, your expression softens immediately. you walk over like the shift is instinctive.

you: “hey.”

j: “hi.”

he hesitates, then gestures vaguely.

j: “does that… happen a lot?”

you shrug, sitting beside him.

you: “more than i’d like.”

j: “i don’t get why they think they can just—”

you: “because they think i owe them something.”

you glance at his sketchbook.

you: “i don’t.”

that settles something in his chest. a group of girls walk past, eyes flicking between the two of you. whispers follow. jo feels suddenly self-conscious, aware of how close you’re sitting, how your shoulder brushes his.

j: “people are staring.”

you: “let them.”

you shift closer, deliberate.

you: “they’re not the ones i’m here with.”

his face warms, heart tripping over itself.

j: “why… me?”

you look at him then, really look.

you: “because you’re gentle.”

your fingers tap his knee once, light but grounding.

you: “and you don’t expect anything from me.”

he swallows, nodding.

j: “i like that you choose me.”

you smile, small and real.

you: “good.”

and for the first time, jo sits a little straighter beside you, sketchbook forgotten, letting the world see what you’ve already decided. it starts with convenience. that’s what jo tells himself, anyway.

the art building couches are old and sunken, placed too close together like someone wanted people to sit wrong on purpose. when you drop down beside him, there isn’t enough space not to touch.

your thigh presses into his. steady. warm. he freezes. waits for you to move. you don’t.

you: “you okay?”

j: “y-yeah.”

he means it, too. his body just hasn’t caught up yet. you lean back, stretching your arms over the back of the couch. relaxed. unguarded. like this is normal. like he is normal. after a few minutes, you shift without warning and sit sideways, one leg draped easily over his lap. casual. unthinking. devastating. jo’s breath stutters.

j: “i—”

you: “is this too much?”

he shakes his head quickly.

j: “no. i mean—no, it’s okay.”

your weight settles. grounding. your hand rests briefly on his shoulder, thumb brushing once, absentminded. he melts. later, it flips. you tug him down gently by the sleeve, until he’s half-sitting on your lap instead. he’s stiff at first, posture awkward, hands hovering uselessly.

you: “relax.”

your hands guide him, firm but gentle, settling him where you want him. his body listens before his brain does. he exhales, shaky.

j: “i don’t usually… do this.”

you: “i know.”

your tone is soft. understanding.

you: “you’re doing great.”

that does something to him. his shoulders drop. his head tips forward, resting briefly against your collarbone like it belongs there. he makes a small sound before he can stop himself; embarrassed, needy.

j: “s-sorry.”

you: “don’t apologize.”

your fingers slide through his hair once, slow and deliberate.

you: “i like when you let yourself be held.”

he nods, cheeks burning, hands clutching lightly at your jacket like he’s afraid of falling. when he finally pulls away, he looks dazed. softer. changed. and when you stand, he reaches for your wrist without thinking. just for a second. you look down at him, smiling.

you: “yeah?”

j: “…nothing.”

you squeeze his hand anyway before letting go. jo spends the rest of the day feeling like something has shifted. like he’s crossed a line he doesn’t want to uncross. it happens after hours.

the art building is quieter than usual, lights dimmed, the air cooler. jo stays late to clean brushes he doesn’t need to clean, to wipe down tables already spotless. anything to keep his hands busy. you notice.

you: “you’re stalling.”

he startles, glancing up from the sink.

j: “i just—wanted to finish up.”

you step closer, leaning against the counter beside him.

you: “you always do that when you’re nervous.”

his shoulders tense.

j: “i’m not—”

he stops. exhales.

j: “okay. maybe a little.”

you don’t tease him this time.

you: “talk to me.”

he hesitates, fingers twisting in the hem of his hoodie.

j: “i don’t really… know what i’m doing. with this.”

you: “with me?”

he nods.

j: “i like you. a lot. and i don’t want to mess it up by being… too much. or not enough.”

the words come out rushed, like he’s afraid they’ll disappear if he doesn’t say them fast enough. you reach out, lifting his chin gently so he has to look at you.

you: “jo.”

your thumb brushes his jaw once, grounding.

you: “you don’t have to perform for me.”

his eyes shine, emotions too close to the surface.

j: “i just want to do things right.”

you: “you are.”

you step closer, closing the space between you until he can feel your warmth.

you: “you listen. you ask. you stop when you’re unsure.”

your forehead rests lightly against his.

you: “that’s not nothing.”

his breath comes shaky.

j: “i don’t have a lot of experience.”

you: “that’s okay.”

firm. certain.

you: “we go at your pace.”

his hands lift hesitantly, hovering at your waist.

you: “you can touch me.”

they settle there like they’ve been waiting for permission. he exhales, shoulders sagging in relief.

j: “thank you.”

you smile, soft and real.

you: “come here.”

you pull him into a slow, careful embrace. nothing rushed. nothing taken. just closeness. just choice.

and when you pull back, the air between you feels charged. fragile. dangerous in the best way. something has been crossed. neither of you wants to go back.

the studio is empty. the sun has gone, and the overhead lights hum softly, casting long shadows across tables and easels. jo is already there, hands busy with a half-finished ceramic piece, but he’s distracted. he knows you’re here before he hears your footsteps.

you: “finally alone.”

he swallows, heart hammering. his pencil hovers over the clay like he might drop it at any second.

j: “i… didn’t expect—”

you: “didn’t expect me to follow?”

j: “i… no, i mean—”

your smile stops him mid-word. the kind of smile that tells him you know exactly what you’re doing. you step closer, close enough for your hands to brush his shoulders. the warmth sends a shiver down his spine.

you: “you’re tense.”

j: “i—i am.”

you laugh softly, leaning your forehead against his shoulder. he flinches a little, but doesn’t move away.

you: “good. i like when you’re nervous around me.”

his ears burn. he drops his gaze to the table, fingers fidgeting, but he doesn’t pull back.

you: “hands.”

his eyes snap up, and you lift one of his, holding it gently in yours. you trace his knuckles, fingertips brushing lightly.

you: “so capable. do you know how good they could be?”

j: “…i… i—”

you: “shh.”

your fingers linger on his jaw, holding him steady as you lean in for a kiss, his lips swollen and parted the second you pull back, chasing more. the studio's dim light catches the sheen of sweat on his skin, his chest heaving under the thin fabric of his shirt. you can see the bulge straining against his pants, his thighs shifting restlessly where he stands before you, close enough that his heat radiates toward you.

you: “on your knees, jo. show me how much you want this.”

he drops without hesitation, knees hitting the cool floor with a soft thud, his hands hovering uncertainly at your hips. his eyes flick up to yours, wide and pleading, that flush creeping down his neck. you nod encouragingly, guiding one of his hands to the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough for him to see the lace of your bra peeking out.

j: “like this?”

his voice is a whisper, fingers trembling as they push the fabric higher, exposing your stomach, then your ribs. you arch into his touch, letting him take his time, his palms sliding up to cup your breasts through the thin material. he squeezes tentatively, thumbs circling the hardening nipples, and you hum in approval, threading your fingers through his hair to keep him close.

you: “yes, just like that. don't stop now.”

he leans in, mouth brushing the edge of your bra before he tugs it down with his teeth, freeing one breast. his tongue darts out, licking a hot stripe over the peak, then closing his lips around it to suck gently. the pull sends sparks down your spine, and you press his head firmer against you, rocking subtly against the air between your legs.

he switches sides, lavishing the other with wet, open-mouthed kisses, his free hand trailing lower, tracing the line of your waistband. you spread your stance a bit wider, inviting him, and he takes the cue, fingers popping the button on your jeans. the zipper drags down slowly, his breath hot against your skin as he peels the denim away, along with your underwear, leaving you bare from the waist down.

j: “... can i taste you?”

you: “not yet. use your fingers first. make me feel good.”

he nods eagerly, one hand steadying on your thigh while the other slips between your legs. his fingertips brush your folds, slick already from the buildup, and he gasps at the wetness coating them. slowly, he parts you, middle finger circling your entrance before pushing inside, the intrusion warm and careful. your walls clench around him, pulling him deeper, and he watches your face for every reaction, adding a second finger when you moan softly.

you: “curl them... find that spot.”

he does, twisting his wrist, the pads of his fingers pressing against your inner walls until he grazes the sensitive ridge. your hips buck, pleasure blooming sharp and sweet, and he starts thrusting in earnest—pumping steadily, his thumb finding your clit to rub in tight, uneven circles. the lewd squelch of your arousal fills the quiet space, his arm flexing with each motion, face buried against your stomach as he works you higher.

j: “am i doing it right? you feel so tight... so perfect.”

you: “you're learning fast jojo.”

that fueled him up. his fingers plunging deeper, faster, scissoring to stretch you open while his mouth sucks bruises into your hip. the coil in your core tightens unbearably, your thighs quivering around his shoulders, until it snaps. orgasm ripping through you, pussy pulsing around his digits as you cry out, juices soaking his palm and dripping down his wrist.

he doesn't stop right away, easing you through it with gentler strokes, kissing your trembling skin until you tug him up by the hair. his face is wrecked. lips shiny, eyes dark with need, cock tenting his pants painfully.

j: “please... i need to be inside you. let me in you. i can't wait anymore.”

his plea tumbles out desperate, hands fumbling with his own belt, but he waits for your permission, body taut like a bowstring. you smile, predatory and fond, stepping back to the nearby stool and perching on its edge, legs parting wide.

you: “come here. show me what you've got.”

he shoves his pants down just enough, freeing his cock. thick, veined, tip flushed and weeping pre-cum. he steps between your thighs, gripping the base as he lines up, rubbing the head through your slick folds. with a shared groan, he pushes in, slow at first, your pussy yielding to his girth inch by inch until he's seated fully, balls snug against you.

j: “... so warm. so good.”

you wrap your legs around him, heels digging into his ass to urge him on.

you: “move. take me like i taught you.”

he starts thrusting, shallow at first, testing, then building to a steady rhythm—hips snapping forward, cock dragging along your walls with each plunge. you guide his hands to your breasts, showing him how to pinch and twist, and he follows, leaning down to capture your mouth in a messy kiss, tongues tangling as he fucks into you harder. the stool rocks under the force, his grunts mixing with your moans, sweat slicking where your bodies meet. he angles his hips, grinding against your clit on every inward stroke, chasing both your pleasures under your watchful eye.

you: “that's it... deeper. make us both cum.”

he pounds relentlessly now, one hand bracing on the wall behind you, the other stroking your thigh. the pressure rebuilds fast, your second orgasm cresting as his cock throbs inside you. you clench down, pulling him over the edge. he buries himself deep with a broken whimper, cum flooding your pussy in hot pulses, spilling out around him as he shudders.

you hold him close through the aftershocks, praising softly into his ear, bodies entwined in the hazy quiet of the studio, the night far from over.

the studio smells faintly of clay and paint. the lights are dim, just enough to see, but the room feels quieter now. jo sits curled up on the couch, hoodie pulled a little tighter around him, fingers twisting in the fabric. his cheeks are still pink, eyes wide, uncertain.

you: “hey.”

he startles, looks up.

j: “i… i’m sorry.”

you: “for what?”

he swallows, voice small.

j: “for… everything. for being… too sensitive.”

you kneel in front of him, lifting his chin gently so he has to meet your eyes.

you: “jo. look at me.”

he blinks, hesitant.

you: “you didn’t do anything wrong. i wanted you exactly like this. every whimper, every nervous glance. all of it.”

he exhales shakily, shoulders sagging. relief floods his expression.

j: “really?”

you: “really.”

you reach out, brushing a loose strand of hair from his face. your fingers linger on his cheek, thumb tracing lightly.

you: “i like you. like this. like… you.”

his lips part slightly. he leans into your touch without thinking.

j: “…okay.”

you shift so he’s leaning against you, still on the couch, and he melts into your side. your hands rest lightly on his back, rubbing circles, slow and grounding. he nuzzles against your chest, quiet now, but completely present. after a moment, he hesitantly lifts a hand. you catch it in yours, holding it gently.

you: “you’re safe. always.”

he exhales, tiny whimper of contentment.

j: “i… i like being with you.”

you: “i know. i like it too.”

later, he shows you the small sketch he made after everything, quiet but proud. a little smile tugs at your lips as you lift it carefully, setting it somewhere meaningful. you lean back against him, forehead to forehead, and just breathe.

you: “we don’t have to rush anything. we’ll take it slow.”

j: “…slow is good.”

the tension from before lingers, but softer now. heavier with trust. heavier with warmth. and jo realizes, fully, that he’s not just a boy you notice. he’s someone you choose. and that thought is the quietest, strongest kind of intimacy there is.

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@snowzxki actually requested this so like all props to them for the idea. i fucking love submissive jojo and this shit literally gave the movie "babygirl" vibes.. also so sorry if i missed a few things i've been mind fucked bc of school.😓

© seventeensbabye: all rights reserved! reposting/modifying of any fic, or piece of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed! translations are not allowed

[seventeensbabye]

omg u lit just opened reqs & im here like EAGER lmao i just love your writing

could you write smth with jake where reader goes into subspace (&like not the first time it’s smth they are used to) but has a pretty hard subdrop & the aftercare?

new anon is 🦦 taken?

੭ ᐣ this is like perfect for him, i know he's such a soft dom man. i need him desperately... 😟 the emoji u chose is so cutesy!

੭ ᐣ paring: jake sim x fem!reader

੭ ᐣ warnings: smut, powerplay, subspace, petnames: baby

੭ ᐣ masterlist

the room was dimly lit, soft shadows dancing across the walls from the single lamp in the corner. jake had you pinned beneath him on the bed, his body pressing down with just the right amount of weight to make you feel secure, owned. your wrists were bound loosely above your head with silk ties, a familiar ritual that always pulled you deeper into that hazy space. his breath was hot against your neck as he trailed bites along your collarbone, each one sharp enough to sting but not break skin.

you arched into him, a soft whimper escaping your lips. this wasn't new. subspace had become a comfortable fog for you both, a place where worries melted away and only sensation remained. jake knew your cues, the way your body softened, your eyes glazing over as you surrendered.

j: "that's it, baby. let go for me."

his voice was low, commanding yet tender, vibrating through your chest. he shifted, his hand sliding between your thighs, fingers parting your slick folds with ease. you were soaked, arousal dripping down as he circled your clit slowly, teasing. your hips bucked instinctively, chasing the pressure, but he held you steady with his other hand on your hip.

you: "please... jake..."

the words tumbled out, needy and broken. he chuckled softly, the sound rumbling from his throat as he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them against that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids. your mind blurred at the edges, thoughts fragmenting into pure feeling. the stretch, the heat, the way his thumb kept rubbing your clit in firm circles.

he leaned down, capturing your nipple between his teeth, tugging just hard enough to send a jolt straight to your core. you gasped, body trembling as the pleasure built, coiling tight. subspace wrapped around you like a warm blanket, everything narrowing to his touch, his scent, the rhythm of his fingers thrusting in and out. time stretched, minutes feeling like hours as you floated, pliant and blissful.

j: "you're doing so good, taking me like this."

he added a third finger, stretching you further, his pace quickening. your walls clenched around him, the orgasm crashing over you without warning. you cried out, back bowing off the bed as waves of ecstasy pulsed through you, leaving you boneless and drifting. jake didn't stop, drawing it out until you were shuddering, oversensitive and utterly spent.

he untied your wrists gently, rubbing the skin to bring circulation back, but the drop hit you harder than usual. as the high faded, a cold wave crashed in. your chest tightened, tears pricking at your eyes unbidden. the room spun slightly, vulnerability flooding you like ice water. subspace had been so deep this time, the comedown rough, leaving you shaky and small.

jake noticed immediately, his playful demeanor shifting to concern. he pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he sat up, wrapping the blanket around you both.

j: "hey, hey, i've got you. you're safe, baby."

his voice was soft now, soothing, one hand stroking your hair while the other rubbed slow circles on your back. tears spilled over, hot and uncontrollable, your body curling into him as sobs wracked your frame. it wasn't just the intensity; something deeper had cracked open, old insecurities bubbling up in the vulnerability.

you: "i... i don't know... it hurts..."

you clung to his shirt, face buried in his neck, inhaling his familiar scent. musk and clean soap—that grounded you slightly.

j: "shh, it's okay to feel this. the drop's hitting hard, but i'm right here. breathe with me."

he guided your breathing, inhaling deeply and encouraging you to match him. in... out... slow and steady. his fingers combed through your hair, untangling any knots with care. after a few minutes, he reached for the water bottle on the nightstand, holding it to your lips.

j: "small sips, yeah? you need to hydrate."

you nodded weakly, sipping the cool water, feeling it soothe your dry throat. he set it aside and grabbed a soft cloth, dampening it with warm water from the bathroom sink. gently, he wiped your face, clearing away the tears and sweat, then moved to clean between your legs, his touch feather-light and non-sexual now.

you: "thank you... i feel so... empty."

the words came out small, but he understood, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

j: "i know. let's get you cozy. want some chocolate? or just hold you?"

he offered options, always checking in, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. you opted for both, and he rummaged in the drawer for the dark chocolate you both kept for these moments. something sweet to balance the endorphins. he broke off a piece, feeding it to you slowly, the rich flavor melting on your tongue.

wrapping you tighter in the blanket, he lay back, pulling you on top of him so your ear rested over his heartbeat. strong, steady. his arms encircled you completely, one hand massaging your scalp while the other traced lazy patterns on your arm.

j: "tell me what's going through your head, if you want. or we can just listen to the rain outside."

the patter against the window was a soft backdrop, calming. you murmured about feeling exposed, like the walls you'd built had crumbled too fast. he listened without interrupting, validating every word.

j: "you're strong for letting go like that. and i'm proud of you. we'll build it back together, okay? no rush."

time passed in quiet comfort, his presence chasing away the chill of the drop. eventually, the tears dried, your body relaxing fully against him. sleep tugged at you, warm and inviting now.

you: "love you..."

j: "love you more. rest now, i've got you all night."

he hummed a soft tune, lulling you into peace, the hard drop fading into memory as care wrapped around you like his arms.

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© seventeensbabye: all rights reserved! reposting/modifying of any fic, or piece of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed! translations are not allowed

[seventeensbabye]

euijoo and fuma aren’t dealing with you sneaking out and coming home late from a night out w friends they’re very upset you could’ve asked :3

੭ ᐣ why was this actually hot...

੭ ᐣ paring: murata fuma x fem!reader x byun euijoo

੭ ᐣ warnings: smut, powerplay, punishment, possesiveness, laguage, dirty talk

੭ ᐣ masterlist

the door clicks shut behind you as you slip into the dimly lit apartment, the faint scent of takeout lingering in the air. it's well past midnight, and the living room light is still on, casting long shadows. fuma and euijoo are waiting, arms crossed, expressions stern. fuma stands by the couch, his jaw tight, while euijoo paces slowly near the window.

f: “you think you can just waltz in here like nothing happened? we were worried sick.”

ej: “yeah, sneaking out without a word? coming home this late? what if something happened to you?”

fuma steps closer, his voice low but edged with frustration, eyes searching your face for any sign of remorse.

f: “you could've at least texted. asked. we're not your keepers, but we care, you know that.”

ej: “exactly. you don't just disappear on us like that. explain yourself.”

you stand there, caught in the tension, the weight of their stares pressing down on you. the air feels thick, charged with their disappointment. fuma's eyes narrow, and he moves first, grabbing your wrist firmly, pulling you toward the center of the room. euijoo follows, his hand on your shoulder, guiding you with a grip that's both protective and commanding.

f: “worried doesn't even cover it. you need to learn that actions have consequences.”

he releases your wrist but doesn't step back, his body close enough that you feel the heat radiating from him. euijoo circles around, blocking any easy escape, his fingers trailing down your arm before settling on your hip.

you: “bu-”

ej: “no excuses. strip. now.” 

your hands tremble slightly as you obey, peeling off your shirt, then your pants, until you're bare before them. the cool air hits your skin, making your nipples harden. fuma watches intently, his gaze raking over your body, while euijoo's breath quickens.

f: “good. now, over the couch. ass up.”

you bend over the arm of the couch, palms pressing into the cushions, your ass presented to them. vulnerability surges through you, mixed with a thrill you can't deny. fuma's hand lands first, a sharp smack on your right cheek, the sting blooming instantly. you gasp, body jolting forward.

ej: “count them. and thank us each time.”

another smack from euijoo on the left, harder, the sound echoing in the quiet room. your skin warms, reddens under their palms.

you: “f- thank you.”

fuma delivers the next, his fingers digging in after, spreading your cheeks slightly, exposing you more. the air teases your pussy, already slick from the intensity.

you: “ah! th- thank you.”

they alternate, building a rhythm, smack, sting, heat. euijoo's hits are precise, targeting the same spots, while fuma's are broader, covering more area. by the tenth, your ass throbs, tears pricking your eyes, but arousal pools between your thighs, dripping down.

ej: “look at you, getting wet from this. you like being punished, don't you?”

fuma's hand slides between your legs, fingers brushing your folds, gathering your wetness before pushing one inside you roughly. you moan, pushing back against his touch.

f: “filthy little thing. sneaking out, making us wait, and now this.”

he adds a second finger, thrusting deep, curling to hit that spot that makes your knees buckle. euijoo spanks you again, the pain mixing with the pleasure, your pussy clenching around fuma's fingers. you couldn’t even speak at this point. they chuckle darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. euijoo pulls his fingers from your ass cheek, slick with your arousal now, and presses them against your tight hole. you tense, but he pushes in slowly, one finger breaching you.

ej: “relax, you can take it. if you didn’t sneak out you wouldn’t be dealing with this.”

fuma keeps fingering your pussy, scissoring his fingers to stretch you, while euijoo works his finger deeper into your ass. the dual invasion makes you whimper, body rocking between them, chasing the fullness.

f: “you're ours to punish. say it.”

you: “i'm yours…”

satisfied, fuma withdraws his fingers, and you hear the zipper of his pants. his cock springs free, thick and hard, the head nudging your entrance. he doesn't wait, slamming into your pussy in one thrust, filling you completely. you cry out, the stretch burning deliciously. euijoo adds a second finger to your ass, pumping in time with fuma's thrusts. fuma grips your hips, pounding into you, his balls slapping against your clit with each drive. the couch creaks under the force, your body jolting forward.

f: “fuck, so tight. this is what you get for being a bad girl.”

sweat beads on your skin, mixing with the slick sounds of fuma fucking you. euijoo twists his fingers, stretching your ass wider, preparing you. then he pulls out, and you feel his cock press against your hole, hot, insistent.

ej: “breathe baby. take us both.”

he pushes in slowly, the head popping past the ring, inch by inch until he's buried deep. the fullness is overwhelming, your pussy and ass stuffed, their cocks separated only by a thin wall. you feel every ridge, every vein as they start moving. fuma pulling out as euijoo thrusts in, then switching.you let out a whimper.

f: “quiet. take your punishment.”

they pick up speed, fucking you in unison now, cocks dragging against each other inside you. your body shakes, pleasure coiling tight in your core. euijoo reaches around, pinching your nipple hard, twisting until you yelp.

ej: “cum for us. show us you're sorry.”

the command tips you over. your orgasm crashes through you, pussy spasming around fuma's cock, ass clenching on euijoo's. you scream, vision blurring, but they don't stop, pounding harder, chasing their own release.

f: “gonna fill you up princess.”

fuma groans, hips stuttering as he cums, hot spurts flooding your pussy, leaking out around his shaft. euijoo follows seconds later, burying deep in your ass, pumping his load inside until it drips down your thighs. they stay inside you a moment, catching their breath, hands stroking your reddened ass soothingly now. slowly, they pull out, cum trickling from both holes. you collapse over the couch, spent and trembling.

f: “next time, ask. or it’ll only get worse.”

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[seventeensbabye]

can you write some headcanons for maki with a cute, petite and hyperfeminine reader, as in both sfw and nsfw? i know that maki would adore a girl like that but i just don't have proof😭

੭ ᐣ i def feel you on this, just as much as i belive he would't care to much about how you're shaped. i know he'd def enjoy a cutesy girl like this ngl.

੭ ᐣ paring: maki x fem!reader

੭ ᐣ warnings: fluff&smut, size kink, powerplay, foreplay, shower sex, possesiveness, aftercare, role play, laguage, dirty talk

੭ ᐣ masterlist

maki is obsessed with soft things. soft voices, soft laughs, soft clothes. so when you show up all pretty. bows, skirts, gloss, pastel everything. his brain short-circuits just a little. not in a loud way, just that quiet “oh… yeah. that’s my girl” look.

he treats you like something precious without ever making you feel fragile. always walking on the outside of the sidewalk, always keeping a hand near your back in crowds. not hovering, protective by instinct.

he loves how expressive you are. your excitement, your dramatic reactions, the way you get happy over tiny things. he’ll tease you like, “you’re really excited about that?” but he’s smiling the whole time because he thinks it’s adorable.

if you’re petite, maki automatically adjusts himself around you. slows his walking pace, bends down to hear you better, angles his body toward you like you’re the center of his attention (because you are).

he’s the type to remember what makes you feel pretty. your favorite dress, the way you like your hair done, which shoes hurt your feet. if he compliments you, it’s specific. “that color looks really good on you.” “you look extra cute today.” never generic.

hyperfeminine doesn’t intimidate him at all, he adores it. he loves how put-together you are, how much care you put into yourself. if anything, it makes him want to be more gentle, more intentional.

he’s so patient with your routines. waiting while you fix your hair, touching up your makeup, choosing accessories. “take your time,” every single time. no rushing. he likes watching you anyway.

maki lowkey loves when you cling to him. holding his arm, tugging his sleeve, leaning into his side. he’ll pretend he doesn’t notice but his posture changes immediately, shoulders back, stance solid. boyfriend mode activated.

he’s your quiet hype man. not loud about it, but if someone compliments you, he’s nodding along like, “yeah. i know.” if someone underestimates you? he’s calmly correcting them.

when you’re tired or overwhelmed, he softens even more. gentle voice, slow movements. “come sit with me.” “did you eat?” “you okay?” being hyperfeminine with maki doesn’t mean being weak, it means he chooses to take care of you.

and honestly? maki loves how you balance him. he’s grounded, steady, dependable, and you’re sweetness and color and warmth. you make his life softer. prettier. calmer.

maki's got this massive size kink thing going on bc you're so tiny and delicate next to him. he'd love scooping you up like you're his personal doll, pinning you against the wall with one hand while his other slides under your frilly skirt. 'you're so small, baby, i could break you,' he'd whisper, but he'd be all gentle at first, teasing your clit through your lace panties till you're squirming and begging for his cock.

dressing you up is his fave foreplay. imagine him picking out these hyperfem outfits, think baby pink crop tops, thigh-high socks, and tiny skirts that barely cover your ass. he'd make you twirl for him, then pull you onto his lap, grinding his hard dick against you while praising how 'fucking adorable' you look. next thing, he's flipping up that skirt and eating you out like it's his last meal, tongue flicking your pussy till you're creaming on his face.

he's super protective in public but turns into a total dom once y'all are alone. if anyone's staring at your cute self, he'd glare, but later? he'd mark you up, hickeys on your neck, bites on your inner thighs. 'mine,' he'd growl, sliding into you slow at first bc of your tightness, then pounding harder, loving how your petite body bounces on his cock, tits jiggling in that push-up bra he bought you.

shower sex is a must with him. you're so slippery and small, he'd hold you up against the tiles, water cascading over your curves while he thrusts deep. he'd soap up your body, fingers circling your nipples till they're hard peaks, then drop to his knees to suck on your clit. 'cum for me, pretty girl,' and you'd shatter, legs shaking around his head.

maki's all about aftercare too, but nsfw style. after railing you till you're a mess, he'd cuddle you close, fingers lazily playing with your soaked pussy, whispering how perfect your hyperfem vibe is. sometimes it'd lead to round two, him fingering you open while you ride his thigh, all soft moans and 'i love you's mixed with dirty talk.

roleplay? he'd eat it up. you in a schoolgirl outfit, him as the strict teacher, 'bad girl, skipping class for this?' then he's bending you over the desk, spanking your ass lightly till it's pink, before fucking you from behind, hand in your hair pulling just enough to make you arch. your petite frame makes it so easy for him to maneuver, hitting that spot over and over till you're screaming his name.

lazy mornings are peak intimacy. you'd wake up to his mouth on your tits, sucking and nibbling while his fingers stretch your pussy. 'morning wood needs you,' he'd mumble, guiding your hand to his throbbing cock. you'd stroke him slow, all pillow talk like 'this feels so good, babe,' before he flips you and fills you up, slow and deep, savoring every inch of your tight heat.

꒰ঌtaglist! @roe-sinning @taehyuns-biceps @raven-xoxo @guliexe @rex-ie @s3ungh4nsgf @smiles4hyuck @hehebeanis @ykvdani @lynaka @pookie-20204 @luneily @euiyox @angelhyuka @lovelyikeu

[seventeensbabye]

OOOOH MY FUCKING GEEEESH I MISSED U😫!!!!hope u doing well 🌷 though!!!

OH EM GEEEEEE haiiiii, im doing good. hope u are too!!!! 🩷

[seventeensbabye]

I miss ur writing for anton☹️☹️☹️

i have some things lined up, dont worry.. im glad u enjoy the writing though 🥺

[seventeensbabye]

hiii :) may i ask how you do your font colors??? your blog is so pretty <333

hiii love thank uuu but i use this text color fader: https://patorjk.com/text-color-fader/ ! hope this helps 🩷

Text Color Fader - Gradient / rainbow text for email, forums, etc

[seventeensbabye]

⟡ ݁₊ . ˎˊ˗ 𝓗OTEL

ෆ ･ 𝓖ENRE: smuty smut smut! ෆ ･ 𝓟ARING: nicholas wang x fem!reader

ෆ ･ 𝓦ARNINGS/ 𝓣AGS: alcohol use, club setting, strangers to lovers(ish), heavy tension, 'one night stand', flirting, language, protective/attentive male lead, unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering, creampie, overstimulation

ෆ ･ 𝓢YNOPSIS: a night out in LA takes a turn when a stranger’s attention turns a simple hookup into something unexpectedly intense. ෆ ･ 𝓦/𝓒: 2511

ෆ ･ 𝓜.LIST! & 𝓣AGLIST!

“when i met you in that hotel room, I could tell that you were so bad news.”

it was your girl’s birthday weekend. nothing wild on paper, but of course she woke up and chose LA chaos. which meant hotel rooms that smelled like perfume and fries, drive-thru dinners at 1am, and club nights where your dignity stayed in the Uber. you were down. like… fully strapped in for the mess. your dress? tiny. tight. disrespectful. it clung to you like it had a personal vendetta. by the time y’all pulled up at 11, the place was already thumping. lights flashing, bodies everywhere, air thick and sweaty in that “i guess we’re all sharing vibes and oxygen tonight” way. after a few songs grinding with your friends, you dipped out for a drink because girl… hydration via tequila is still hydration. the bar was packed, only one lonely little seat open, so you claimed it like it was meant for you. while you were ordering, you clocked a group of guys across the bar, and one of them? yeah. he snagged your gaze without even trying. tall, slim, eyes low and sharp like he was judging the whole room. he didn’t notice you staring, which made you stare even harder because subtlety is for people with self-control. he had a drink in hand, posted up next to his even taller friend, both of them laughing at something that probably wasn’t even funny. then your shot came. tequila, because obviously. it hit your chest like a warning shot, and your reaction must’ve been loud enough because it finally snapped his attention your way. and suddenly? he was right beside you. like the universe teleported him straight into your personal space.

n: “i’m guessing you don’t drink much, do you?”

his voice slid in before you even registered he was that close. you blinked, still recovering from the tequila sucker-punch, and there he was. the same tall, slim stranger you’d been eyeing across the bar, now leaning against your seat like he’d been invited. the club noise melted a little, just enough for you to take him in properly. sharp jaw, lazy smirk, eyes narrowed like he was studying the hell out of your reaction. you huffed a little laugh, setting the empty shot glass down. 

you: “is it that obvious?”

n: “you made a face like it tried to fight you.”

his teasing was light, low, and way too pretty for someone you’d only been staring at for five minutes. the heat of the room felt different now. thicker, heavier or maybe that was just him standing too damn close. you nudged your heel against the bar stool, tilting your head at him. “and what? you came over to clown me?” he shook his head, gaze dragging down your dress then right back up like he knew exactly what he was doing.

n: “nah. i came over ‘cause you looked fun to bother.”

your stomach flipped. annoying, flirty, perfect. of course he sat down beside you like the spot belonged to him. 

you: “so, you bother a lot of strangers or am i special?”

you say, swirling the water the bartender slid you as a mercy. 

n: “you’re staring-at-me-from-across-the-room special.”

 his grin is slow, smug, stupidly attractive. you scoff. 

you: “i wasn’t staring.”

n: “you were. i didn’t mind.”

he taps the side of his glass. small talk slips in effortlessly. names, where you’re from, jokes about the music, him teasing your lack of tequila tolerance, you teasing his need to lean in closer just to hear you. and god… he leans in every time. the tension builds without either of you trying. his knee nudges yours. his fingers graze your wrist when he takes your empty shot glass. his voice dips when he talks just to you, even with the whole club crowding around. after a few minutes, your girls wave you back onto the dance floor. you hop off the stool. 

you: “duty calls.” 

he tilts his head, slow and deliberate.

n: “go. i’ll be watching.”

and he does. you can feel his eyes the moment you hit the crowd. heat crawling up your back, your stomach tightening. your friends pull you into the mess of lights and bass, and you move with them, but your attention keeps sliding right back to him. he doesn’t look away once. he’s leaned against the bar, one hand in his pocket, jaw set, watching you like you’re the only thing happening in that room. when you finally glance back for real, he lifts two fingers in a beckoning motion. a question, an offer. your pulse jumps. you weave your way back to him. he already has another drink waiting for you.

n: “try again?”

his smile is wicked.

you: “you’re evil.” 

you mutter, but you take the glass anyway, brushing your fingertips against his. a spark jumps. the tequila’s warmer this time. or maybe it’s just him. he steps closer, just enough that his breath grazes your cheek. 

n: “you wanna dance again?”

you raise a brow. 

you: “you gonna actually join me this time?”

his hand slides to the small of your back, feather-light but purposeful.

 n: “lead the way.”

you pull him into the crowd with you. the bass swallows both of you whole, lights washing over his face as he settles behind you. not touching yet, just there, close enough that your body knows exactly where he is. you start slow, rolling your hips, letting the music take over. it takes him all of three seconds before he gives in, hands finding your waist, fingers curling against the fabric of your dress. his breath hits your neck, warm, hungry. you press back into him, and his grip tightens, guiding you, matching your movements like he’s been waiting for this all night. the crowd blurs. the heat between you doesn’t. he leans down, lips brushing your ear.

n: “you keep dancing against me this…”

his voice drops, dark, soft.

n: “i’m gonna have to take you somewhere quieter.”

your breath snags. your friends are long gone in the crowd. the club feels too small now. everything pulses with him. you turn your head slightly, enough to see the line of his jaw, the flush on his cheekbones. 

you: “and where’s that?” 

he doesn’t hesitate.

n: “my hotel’s across the street.”

you swallow. hard. the music fades into a hum behind you.

you: “you inviting me?”

his hand slides down to your hip, palm warm, steady.

n: “only if you’re gonna say yes.”

the tension snaps. not gone, just pulled tight enough that it’s impossible not to follow it. you nod once. slow. deliberate.

you: “lead the way this time.”

his fingers lace with yours, and he pulls you through the crowd, out the doors, into the cool LA air, the kind that does nothing to chill the heat radiating off both of you. the streets blur, neon reflecting off windows as he guides you across the crosswalk. his hotel lights glow ahead, tall, quiet, promising. he squeezes your hand once, glancing back at you with that same low, knowing look he had at the bar. and together, you disappear into the lobby, toward the elevator, toward his room. the door clicking shut behind you. he moved slowly, deliberately. like every second counted. his hands were tentative at your waist at first, almost shy, thumbs brushing the fabric of your dress as if he needed to memorize the shape of you before he dared to pull you closer.

you knew what this was. you both did. just a night, a moment, something that would live in the space between strangers. but the way he touched you? it didn’t feel casual. his gaze kept flicking to your face, checking you, reading you, making sure you wanted every inch of closeness he gave. he treated you like he’d been waiting for you longer than the night. like this wasn’t luck, it was intention.

n: “tell me if you want me to stop.” 

he murmured, voice low, breath warm against your cheek. you shook your head, barely a whisper. 

you: “don’t.”

that’s when his hands steadied, confidence replacing hesitation. he drew you in, chest to chest, forehead brushing yours like he needed that one small point of contact before anything else. he kissed you like he wasn’t in a rush. slow, savoring, like he wanted to understand the taste of you instead of just taking it. every movement was measured, patient, intentional… and somehow that made your pulse race even harder. your fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer as the room fell quiet around you, the city noise muffled by the closed door. 

everything narrowed down to the heat between you, the way he held you like you deserved gentleness even in a moment meant to be fleeting. he whispered your name once; soft, careful. like he wanted to get it right. and when he finally backed you toward the bed, it wasn’t hurried or messy. it was slow. purposeful. like he had all night to learn you. his hand reached to the back of your dress, unzipping it carefully. the dress dropping to the ground before laying you onto the bed. he hovered over you, eyes batted. memorizing every inch of what was placed in front of him.

n: “damn, you’re pretty.”

you smiled, you could hear the need in his voice. his lips were soft as he kissed down your half naked body. your body shivered when a strip of cold air slipped through the window, brushing over your skin like it had no business being there. he stood up, tugging his shirt over his head in one smooth motion before coming back to you. when he leaned in, his head dipped between your thighs. not touching, just close enough that his breath warmed your skin. his arms slid around your legs, holding you steady, pulling you in with a slow, deliberate pull that sent heat rushing through you. his tongue glided over your warm, wet core with one strip. 

he had barely started and your back was already arched, hands tangled in his hair. he moved slow, watching every twitch and movement you made against his tongue. your moans were quiet, and that's what he didn't like. he slipped two fingers into your cunt, curling them upward to stroke that sensitive spot inside you. you gasped, hips bucking involuntarily as the pressure built. his mouth never left your clit, sucking gently while his fingers pumped in and out, slick with your arousal. 

n: “louder.” 

he growled against your skin, the vibration sending shocks through your core. he added a third finger, stretching you wider, thrusting deeper to hit that ridge that made your thighs tremble. your breaths came in ragged bursts now, fingers tightening in his hair as you pulled him closer. he obliged, tongue flicking faster over your swollen nub while his hand worked relentlessly, knuckles brushing your entrance with each plunge. the wet sounds of his fingers fucking you filled the room, mixing with your rising whimpers.

n: “that's it pretty girl.”

he murmured, pulling back just enough to watch your face contort in pleasure. his free hand gripped your thigh, spreading you open further, exposing every inch to his hungry gaze. he twisted his fingers inside you, scissoring them to rub your walls from all angles, coaxing out a sharp cry that echoed off the walls. your body tensed, coiling tight as the orgasm crept closer. he sensed it, doubling down. tongue lashing your clit in firm circles, fingers crooking harder, faster. 

n: “scream for me.”

he demanded, voice rough with lust. And you did, shattering around his hand, walls clenching as waves of ecstasy crashed over you, soaking his palm in your release.vbut he didn't stop. not yet. he withdrew his fingers slowly, bringing them to his lips to taste you, eyes locked on yours. then, with a wicked grin, he positioned himself between your legs, his hard cock throbbing against your entrance. 

n: “now, let's see how loud you get when i fill you up.”

nico's cock pressed against your slick folds, the thick head nudging your entrance teasingly. he held your gaze, a smirk playing on his lips as he eased forward, inch by inch, stretching you around his girth. your walls fluttered, still sensitive from your climax, gripping him tight as he sank deeper. you bit your lip, a soft whine escaping despite your efforts to stay quiet. nico's hands gripped your hips, pulling you onto him until he was buried to the hilt, his balls resting against your ass. he paused there, letting you adjust, his breath hot on your neck. 

n: “fuck, you're so tight baby.” 

he groaned, voice low and gravelly. then he started moving, slow at first, dragging his cock out almost completely before thrusting back in with a deliberate snap of his hips. each stroke hit deep, the angle brushing that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids. your nails dug into his shoulders, body arching to meet him, but your sounds were still muffled, breathy gasps more than anything. nico wasn't satisfied. he shifted, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder to open you wider, pounding harder now, the slap of skin on skin echoing through the room. his thumb found your clit, rubbing firm circles that had your hips jerking.

n: “come on, let me hear you.”

he urged, leaning down to capture your mouth in a bruising kiss, tongue mimicking the thrust of his cock. you broke away with a cry, louder this time, as he angled his hips to grind against your g-spot with every plunge. sweat slicked your bodies, his chest pressing against your breasts, nipples hardening from the friction. nico's pace quickened, relentless, his free hand pinching your nipple, twisting just enough to send a jolt straight to your core. your moans grew unrestrained, filling the air. sharp, needy sounds that spurred him on. he released your leg, both hands now bracing beside your head as he fucked you into the mattress, cock slamming deep and fast.

n: “that's my girl.”

he panted, forehead pressed to yours, eyes dark with hunger. the pressure built again, coiling low in your belly, your pussy clenching around him rhythmically. nico felt it, thrusting even harder, his own breaths ragged. 

n: “gonna cum inside you.” 

he warned, voice strained. you shattered first, screaming his name as your orgasm ripped through you, walls milking his cock in pulsing waves. nico followed seconds later, burying himself deep with a guttural moan, hot spurts of cum flooding your depths. he collapsed over you, still twitching inside, lips brushing your ear. 

n: “you’ll be louder next time.” 

the words brushed your skin as he whispered it into your neck, his tone low like a promise he fully intended to keep. you blinked, breath catching. 

you: “next time?”

he smiled against your skin. slow, confident, like he already knew the answer you hadn’t said out loud.

꒰ঌtaglist! @roe-sinning @taehyuns-biceps @raven-xoxo @guliexe @rex-ie @s3ungh4nsgf @smiles4hyuck @hehebeanis @ykvdani @lynaka @pookie-20204 @luneily @euiyox @angelhyuka @lovelyikeu

© seventeensbabye: all rights reserved! reposting/modifying of any fic, or piece of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed! translations are not allowe

[seventeensbabye]

TXT | 투모로우바이투게더

yeonjun • 연준: last to kiss looses

soobin • 수빈: ...

beomgyu • 범규: pillow

taehyun • 태현: ...

huening kai • 휴닝카이: ...

-

other: car sex, kinks, big tits+fat ass

© seventeensbabye: all rights reserved! reposting/modifying of any fic, or piece of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed! translations are not allowed!

[seventeensbabye]

STRAY KIDS | 스트레이 키즈

christopher • 방찬: mentor + (pt2), dummy, pheromone, denial looks good on you, the birds

lee know • 리노: ...

changbin • 창빈: ...

hyunjin • 현진: ...

han • 한: ...

felix • 필릭스: ...

seungmin • 승민: earned it

i.n • 아이엔: ...

-

other: fav body parts, kinks, big tits+fat ass, ass fucking

© seventeensbabye: all rights reserved! reposting/modifying of any fic, or piece of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed! translations are not allowed!

[seventeensbabye]

SEVENTEEN | 세븐틴

s.coups • 에스쿱스: professor

jeonghan • 정한: ...

joshua • 조슈아: father figure

jun • 文俊辉: ...

hoshi • 호시: ...

wonwoo • 원우: ...

woozi • 우지: ...

the8 • 徐明浩: ...

mingyu • 민규: look at the camera

dk • 도겸: ...

seungkwan • 승관: ...

vernon • 버논: ...

dino • 디노: ...

-

other: kinks

© seventeensbabye: all rights reserved! reposting/modifying of any fic, or piece of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed! translations are not allowed!

[seventeensbabye]

RIIZE | 라이즈

shotaro • ショウタロウ: ...

eunseok • 은석: ...

sungchan • 성찬: ...

wonbin • 원빈: can you feel my heart, cherry waves

seunghan • 홍승한: kinks

sohee • 소희: confidence

anton • 앤톤: guitar, always loved you, first time: (I, II), cybersex

-

other: kinks, oral fixation, big tits+fat ass, chunky y/n, we should break up

© seventeensbabye: all rights reserved! reposting/modifying of any fic, or piece of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed! translations are not allowed!

[seventeensbabye]

P1HARMONY | 피원하모니

keeho • 기호: heartbeat, ride it, v.i.p, the longest text

theo • 테오: dont touch

jiung • 지웅: ...

intak • 인탁: c.r.t.f.y

soul • 白翔太: ...

jongseob • 종섭: nerdy

-

other: kinks, big tits, fat ass, chunky y/n, small tits, too shy

© seventeensbabye: all rights reserved! reposting/modifying of any fic, or piece of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed! translations are not allowed!

[seventeensbabye]

NCT | 엔시티

NCT 127 | 엔시티 127 taeyong • 태용: ... johnny • 쟈니: ... yuta • 中本悠太: ... doyoung • 도영: ... jaehyun • 재현: small jungwoo • 정우: ... mark • 마크: wna torture me tn? haechan • 해찬: ...

WAYV | 威神V kun • 钱锟: ... ten • เตน: ... winwin • 董思成: ... xiaojun • 肖德俊: ... hendery • 黄冠亨: ... yangyang • 刘洋洋: ...

NCT DREAM | 엔시티 드림 renjun • 黄仁俊: ... jeno • 제노: ... jaemin • 재민: ... chenle • 钟辰乐: ... jisung • 지성: ...

NCT WISH | 엔시티 위시 sion • 시온: claimed in every way riku • リク: nevrous yushi • ユウシ: ... jaehee • 재희: ...

other: kinks wish (hyung line): oral fixation, chunky y/n, big ass+boobs

© seventeensbabye: all rights reserved! reposting/modifying of any fic, or piece of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed! translations are not allowed!