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( reaction ) riize when you’re ovulating ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 라이즈 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ using riize when you’re ovulating ヾ

OT7!라이즈・ fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ ‎ wc ・ ‎1k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. hear me out ☝ riding Riize and using them like a toy or whatever you want because you're ovulating.....

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 <3 !!!

Riize nsfw links

hi guys heres some links that reminds me sm of the Riize members, hope u enjoy!! mdni

Shotaro rewarding you for being such a good girl for him, he adores you and fills you up exactly like you asked for.

Sub Shotaro who tries so hard to not cum so that you’ll praise him. He loves being in your arms and being your good plaything.

Sungchan who loves how easy it is to lift you up and thrust his full length into you. You’re just so small compared to him, he can’t help but love stretching your pussy and thrust at an insane speed.

Sub Sungchan who twitches weakly in your arms as he gets even more sensitive when you cover his mouth and nose, not letting him breathe.

Eunseok loves when you wear a collar and tights for him, all pliant and submissive for him. He loves seeing your tits bounce as he thrusts harder and harder.

Sub Eunseok who lets you ride him while he sucks onto your nipple like its a pacifier. He wouldn’t tell you but he sucks them to muffle his own desperate moans.

Wonbin needs you to know you’re his and only his. His hands wrap around your neck and grips your boobs as he fucks you roughly, reminding you only he can make you feel this good.

Sub Wonbin loves to be taken care of. His usual cool composure completely disappears when you have his hands cuffed up and him at your mercy.

Seunghan always wants to make sure you feel good, doing his best to hit the spot that gets you weak every thrust, but your cunt just feels so good around him he can’t keep his moans in.

Sub Seunghan can’t handle the overstim, he begs you repeatedly to stop cause he just can’t take it! He holds onto you desperately in hopes to ground himself.

Sohee has so much love for you, in his eyes you’re perfect and he needs to kiss and leave marks all over you before fucking you the way you like it.

Sub Sohee tries so hard to obey you even when its too much. All he can do is breathe desperately and let out weak whimpers.

Anton fucking you in the hotel room after you were so needy the whole day. He makes sure to twist and play with your nipples the way you like it and hit that spot in your walls that would get you cumming.

Sub Anton who wants you touching him all over and wants to be a good boy for you so bad but he doesn’t know how much more he can take!

#riize smut #riize x reader #shotaro smut #shotaro x reader #sungchan smut #sungchan x reader #eunseok smut #eunseok x reader #wonbin smut #wonbin x reader #seunghan smut #seunghan x reader #xnghan #sohee smut #sohee x reader #anton smut #anton x reader #riize hard thoughts

ೋ 'WE SHOULD BREAK UP' PRANK ON RIIZE

ෆ ･ request? nope! ₊ ୧ genre: smut, flirty, slow-burn emotional undertones

. ↳ paring: riize × fem!reader ⦂ 𓈃 warnings/tags: smut, oral, fingering, vaginal sex, messy orgasms, multiple orgasms, softdom, possessive dom, teasing, body insecurity, slow-burn, fluff, praise kink, whispering dirty talk, slight spanking

⦂ 𓈃 word count: 3,600 ෆ ･ m.list! . ↳ join taglist!

shotaro: you didn’t expect his face to fall that fast. one second you were pouting, telling him you think he deserves someone “skinnier, prettier,” and the next his whole expression just… shattered. his hands froze mid-gesture, eyes wide, as if you had physically shoved him away. s: “don’t… don’t say that. why would you even- why would you think that about yourself?” you: “because it’s true, taro. you could have anyone, and i’m-” he cuts you off by grabbing your wrist, pulling you closer, shaking his head hard enough to send his hair falling into his eyes. there’s no hesitation in his voice now, just this trembling anger that’s completely unlike him. s: “no. no, don’t you dare. you’re mine. i don’t want ‘anyone,’ i want you. i’ve always wanted you.” your chest tightens because it was supposed to be a prank, but his voice is breaking like he’s about to cry, and guilt hits hard. you rush to explain but he doesn’t let you. his mouth is on yours before you can get another word out. his kiss is messy, almost desperate, tongue pushing past your lips while his hands slide down your waist, gripping like he’s terrified you’ll vanish if he doesn’t hold you tight enough. he presses you back onto the couch, body hovering above yours, grinding down against you until you feel the thick outline of his cock straining against his sweats. you: “taro, wait-” s: “no. don’t tell me to wait. i need you to feel how much i want you. maybe then you’ll believe me.” his voice drops low, thick with lust and frustration, and before you know it he’s tugging your shorts down, pushing them aside so he can rut bare against you. the heat of him makes you gasp, and he smirks despite the shine in his eyes. s: “see? no one else makes me this hard. no one else can.” his words are ragged as he pushes in slow, the stretch making you arch into him. he groans, burying his face against your neck, teeth grazing your skin while he bottoms out. his hips snap harder, faster, as if he’s fucking the insecurity out of you, every thrust punctuated by sharp little whimpers he tries to muffle against your throat. you claw at his back, moaning when he hits deep, and he pulls back just enough to look you in the eye. s: “you’re perfect. every part of you. don’t ever scare me like that again.” when you tighten around him, his lips curve into this breathless, wrecked smile before he slams harder, chasing both your release and the reassurance that you aren’t going anywhere. he comes with your name on his tongue, spilling deep inside like he’s marking you as his. and when you’re both shaking and sweaty, he refuses to let you go, pressing kisses over your face while whispering, s: “pretty. you’re the only pretty i’ll ever need.”

eunseok: you pick the wrong timing for the joke. he’s sprawled on the couch with his long legs stretched out, scrolling on his phone. you plop down next to him and murmur, “i think you’d be happier with someone skinny and prettier than me.” he doesn’t even look up at first. e: “say that again.” his voice is so flat it makes you stiffen. you try to laugh it off, tugging his sleeve, but then he locks eyes with you. no grin, no softness. just a sharp stare that pins you. you: “i was just playing-” e: “you think i’m that shallow? that i’d give a fuck about bones over you?” you stammer something useless, and suddenly his phone is tossed aside. he grabs your wrist and pulls you onto his lap, straddling him. his hand cradles the back of your neck, guiding you closer until his lips barely brush yours. e: “you’re not gonna say shit like that to me again. got it?” when you nod, he doesn’t waste a second. his mouth crashes into yours, tongue hot and claiming. his other hand slides under your shirt, thumb flicking against your nipple until you gasp into him. the control he radiates is effortless, like he was born knowing how to bend you. he shifts, dragging you down against his cock, already hard under his sweats. the friction has you whining, grinding instinctively. he smirks against your lips, tilting his head to whisper right into your ear. e: “look at you. already needy. tell me who makes you cum like this.” you breathe his name, and that’s all it takes. he lifts you like nothing, laying you back on the couch, yanking your bottoms down in one sharp motion. he spreads you with his fingers, admiring the wetness dripping down your folds. e: “this is mine. no one else’s.” his mouth is on you before you can respond, licking slow circles that turn into relentless flicks, two fingers sliding in knuckle-deep. he eats you out like he’s starving, groaning when you tug his hair. the coil builds fast, your body arching off the cushions until you’re shaking, squirting across his jaw when you cum hard, messy. he doesn’t stop, though. he sits up, pulls his sweats low, and strokes his cock. long, heavy, veins thick. he lines himself up, pushes in with one long, devastating thrust that has you clawing at the cushions. you: “oh my god-” e: “say it louder. let everyone know who’s fucking you this good.” he pounds into you, each thrust deeper than the last, sweat dripping down his temple as he holds your thighs wide open. the stretch is overwhelming, delicious, and when he leans down to bite your lip, you fall apart again. cumming around him, milking him until he’s groaning through his release, spilling hot and deep inside. he collapses over you, kissing your jaw, softer now. e: “don’t ever put yourself down like that. i’ll remind you a thousand times if i have to.” his cock twitches inside you, still filling you, and the way he holds you close makes you realize he means it.

sungchan: you pick the worst moment to be dramatic. he’s leaning in the doorway of your room, hair messy from a shower, wiping his neck with a towel. you blurt it out without thinking: “you’d probably be better off with someone skinnier, someone prettier.” he freezes. towel drops from his hand. sc: “what the fuck did you just say?” you shrug, trying to make it sound like a joke, but the air shifts instantly. he walks over slow, the weight in his steps making your stomach churn. by the time he’s in front of you, your back’s already pressing into the mattress. sc: “nah. we’re not doing that.” he climbs onto the bed, caging you under him, his broad chest brushing yours. one huge palm pins your wrist above your head, the other trailing down your side, deliberate, until it hooks under your thigh. sc: “you think i don’t want this? you think i don’t fucking lose my mind every time i look at you?” you swallow, breath shaky, and that’s when he kisses you. hungry, punishing, teeth catching your bottom lip until you moan. he grinds down against you, his cock thick and heavy through his sweats, making you whimper into his mouth. sc: “pretty? skinny? no. i want you. sexy, full, dripping, begging, ruined for me.” he yanks your shorts down, fingers immediately rubbing over your clit, slick already coating his fingertips. he smirks when you gasp, sliding two fingers in and curling them just right. the stretch has your eyes rolling back, your body jerking under him as he fucks you with his hand. your orgasm slams into you quick, thighs shaking as you cum hard, gushing around his fingers. he doesn’t stop. he pulls them out, sucks them clean right in front of you, and groans. sc: “sweetest fucking taste. all mine.” he strips off his sweats and shirt, cock heavy, flushed, and already leaking. he flips you over like you weigh nothing, arching your back with his palm pressing between your shoulders. his cock slides in one thick push, splitting you open until you’re crying out into the sheets. you: “s-sungchan-” sc: “louder. let me hear it.” he pounds into you, relentless, hips slapping against your ass with obscene sounds. his hand tangles in your hair, pulling your head back so he can growl into your ear. sc: “do you think i'd fuck someone besides you like this? hmm? can anyone else make you cum so messy on my cock?” you’re gone. moaning, crying, clenching around him so tight he groans, thrusts growing sharper, rougher. you cum again, squirting across his thighs, soaking him. he swears under his breath, fucking you through it until his own release hits. hot ropes of cum spilling deep inside you as he holds you down, grinding to empty himself fully. he stays inside, chest pressed to your back, kissing your shoulder gently even though he just wrecked you. sc: “don’t say shit like that again. i’ll fuck it out of you every time until you believe me.”

wonbin: you mean it like it’s a dare, tossing the line across the dinner table between bites. “you deserve someone skinny and pretty.” it’s breezy, casual; you expect him to laugh, roll his eyes. instead the fork clatters against his plate and his face goes flat, like someone switched him from color to grayscale. w: “that hurt.” it’s not theatrical, just quiet and real, and it makes your stomach drop. he stands slow, chair scraping, and walks around to where you’re sitting like he’s closing a gap you didn’t know you’d opened. he cups your jaw with warm fingers, thumb tucking a stray hair behind your ear, and the tenderness hits harder than any argument would. you: “i was joking-” w: “i don’t like jokes about you leaving me.” his voice is small but steady, and there’s this possessive hush under it that tightens something in your ribs. instead of anger he gives you a gaze like he’s cataloging you: every freckle, every scar, every inch he’s memorized. it’s intimate and a little terrifying. then he smiles. slow, private and leans in to kiss you, not savage but utterly owning. he tells you to get up. you follow without question, curiosity braided with residual guilt. he leads you to your bedroom, but pauses in the doorway, pulling you into him for a second that’s all hush and heartbeat. when he steps inside, he turns on soft music and dims the light until the room is edged in gold. w: “i’m not gonna argue. i’m going to remind you.” he undresses you with reverence, like he’s unwrapping a gift he never wants to stop opening. his hands trace the curve of you, mapping places he loves with a slow, attentive pressure that makes your knees go weak. he’s patient, this time the dominance is a lullaby rather than a snarl. he wants you, yes, but more than that he wants you to remember you’re wanted. he starts with kisses. not rushed, but precise. a long slide from ear to collarbone, breath warm against the skin, then lower. he uses his mouth and fingers together, syncing them so the pleasure spreads differently, like paint across a canvas. his fingers find the spot that makes you fold forward with a soft cry; his mouth follows, sucking and tasting and coaxing until your legs tremble. you: “won-” w: “shh. feel it. don’t think.” he pushes two fingers deep and moves them steadily as his mouth works on you, slow enough that the tension builds and builds until your head spins. you cum around his mouth. wet, messy and he swallows every sound with a hum that’s almost a prayer. instead of pulling away, he holds you through it, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. he slides up beside you, sliding his cock at the entrance and pushing in with a smooth, languid motion, not rough but absolutely sure. he moves with a rhythm that isn’t desperate; it’s deliberate. measured thrusts that press him close and make you feel full and seen. his hands splay on your hips, thumbs rubbing small circles as if tattooing reassurance into your skin. w: “you’re not defined by anyone’s idea of pretty. you’re loud and soft and messy and mine.” he speeds up when he feels you clench, building you back toward that edge, whispering dirty, steady praises. your name, what he likes, how perfect you are when you melt for him. when you cum again, it’s quieter this time, a shaking, grateful release. he lets out a low groan and follows, filling you slow and heavy, legs folding around his as he empties inside. after, he collapses with you wrapped in his arms, forehead against yours, breath mingling. he presses a tentative kiss to your temple. w: “don’t test me like that. but if you do, i’ll show you every single time why you’re mine.” you laugh through tears and blush, forehead resting against his chest. safe, sticky, and fiercely loved.

seunghan: you toss the line over your shoulder like it’s nothing: “you deserve someone skinny and pretty.” the words hang, and for a second you think he’s going to let it slide, then his face tightens, jaw locking, eyes flashing sharp. se: “are you serious?” there’s a quiet heat in his voice that makes your stomach twist. he crosses the room like he’s stalking a prey, not slow, deliberate, but precise, every step counts. your heart hammers when he corners you by the bed, hands gripping your upper arms firmly, thumbs pressing little circles into your skin like he’s claiming you. you: “i was joking-” se: “i don’t like jokes about us not being together.” his tone isn’t playful. it’s possessive, a little dangerous, a reminder that he doesn’t do half measures. when he pulls you into him, there’s no warning—just lips on yours, teeth grazing your bottom lip, tongue sliding in sharp and claiming. he lifts you onto the bed, legs straddling his waist, and presses you flat against him. se: “look at me. tell me no one else could make you feel like this.” he slides his hand under your shirt, cupping your breast, thumb rubbing over your nipple until you’re trembling and whining against him. his other hand pushes your thighs apart, fingers teasing over the damp seam of your underwear. when he finally presses inside you with two fingers first, slow, curling just right, you arch into him, a startled gasp escaping your lips. you: “seunghan-” se: “shh. let me show you how wrong you are about yourself.” he switches, leaning down, mouth on you, tongue flicking, sucking, pressing. your hips roll instinctively, meeting his mouth, grinding against his fingers. your first cum hits hard, warm and messy, and he groans, the sound low and hungry, like it’s just for him. he slides out, licks his fingers, then positions himself at your entrance, slick and ready. the first push is deliberate and deep, and he groans low in your ear as he thrusts, slow and precise, hands bracing your hips. his rhythm grows sharper, faster, claiming, pressing into you like he’s making sure you’re aware who owns your body tonight. se: “you feel so good. all mine. no one else’s.” your second cum hits messy and loud, muscles clenching around him, and he follows right after, spilling deep and hard inside you. he collapses over you, lips on your shoulder, hands kneading your back, chest heaving. se: “don’t joke like that again. you’re perfect for me. do you get it?” you nod, laughing breathless, and he grins. sharp, satisfied, completely possessive.

sohee: you say it from across the kitchen while stirring a pot, the line soft as steam: “i think you’d be better with someone skinny and pretty.” you expect him to snort, to toss a joke back. instead he sets the spoon down, walks over, and brushes the tip of his nose against yours. an affectionate, incredulous gesture that cuts right through the prank. so: “are you trying to make me possessive?” he’s playful first, mischief in the lift of his lip, but his hands are sure when he pulls you flush against him. you smell basil and citrus on his skin. the mood flips to something bright and hungry; he’s decided to prove you wrong in the most lavish way possible. he tells you to get in the tub. you gape, but he’s already running the water. hot, fragrant with bubbles. he takes your hand and leads you into the bath like a slow performance. the warm water makes your skin glow and he trails kisses down the line of your jaw, voice low and saturated with amusement. so: “i’m gonna drown you in why you’re wrong.” his gentle domination is different. playful, indulgent, like a lover who adores pampering. he guides you to lie back and props pillows under your head. candles waver on the tub rim. he’s all quiet focus, lathering your shoulders with fragrant oil, kneading away any leftover edge that the prank put there. his hands are skilled, massaging long lines from neck to hips, and the touch spirals into something else. he lowers himself in beside you, because he insists on sharing the space, knees brushing your thighs, his warmth pressed close. he kisses your collarbones and then, with an almost shy confidence, pulls you close and parts your legs. the water sloshes as he leans forward, lips finding you between the thighs. the sensation is different in the tub. the slickness amplified, the sound of water a hush over everything. his tongue is slow, methodical, pressing into you with a worshipful cadence that makes it impossible not to let go. so: “i like the way you taste. don’t make me have to prove it more than once.” he alternates between mouth and fingers, fingers sliding in measured strokes while his mouth flares warm and constant. you scream quietly into the bubble-damp air when you cum, water trembling, hips arching. he keeps going, relentless in adoration, until you’re spent and shaking, then slides up to press wet kisses along your sternum like punctuation. when he slides into you, it’s slow and layered, water making everything feel impossibly slick. then his rhythm deepens into a rolling, wet thrust that makes the tub creak. he leans over you, voice a velvety mutter against your shoulder. so: “pretty? maybe. skinny? maybe not. but the only thing i want is you right here.” you keep coming with him, messy and loud, and he meets every wet, sticky release with a soft laugh and a promise murmured into your hair as they both float in the warm glow. so: “don’t ever try that again. unless u want another bath.” you giggle, breathless and sticky and drowning in the aftercare he folds you into.

anton: your words float out softly, almost teasing: “you’d probably be happier with someone skinny and prettier.” anton freezes, eyes widening, chest tightening. he swallows, and you can see the panic flash across his face. a: “what? no… that’s not true, is it?” he climbs to you immediately, worry brimming in every step. he cups your face gently, thumbs brushing along your cheekbones, fingers trembling a little. a: “i… i haven’t been enough for you, have i? i should-” you: “anton, no! i’m kidding-” a: “no, i mean… i just… i don’t want you thinking that. not ever.” he pulls you close, forehead resting against yours. his hands trail down your arms, down your sides, lingering like he can anchor you with touch alone. his softdom isn’t commanding. it’s desperate, tender, like he’s begging you to believe him with every motion. he helps you lie down on the bed, crawling in beside you carefully, not rushing. lips find your collarbone first, soft kisses, gentle, but his hands are needy, tracing the curve of your hips, over your thighs, brushing your clit lightly to gauge you. a: “i just… i need you to know. you’re perfect. you’re mine. please, please don’t say things like that about yourself.” he slides his fingers inside you slowly, curling to press all the right spots, watching your face anxiously. every gasp, every shiver, makes him brush a thumb over your cheek or pull you closer, like he’s afraid you’ll slip from him. when you cum, it’s messy, loud, and he hums against your skin, kissing you softly, trying to erase any doubt the prank caused. a: “see? you feel amazing. you’re amazing.” he lines up, sliding inside slowly, whispering into your hair, low and shaky. his thrusts are patient, a soft, rolling rhythm that presses warmth and certainty into your core. a: “i’m not going anywhere. you’re mine. i’ll show you every day.” he leans down, fingers tangling in your hair, murmuring praises, coaxing your hips with his, pressing himself deep. every cum you have, he matches, slow, careful, almost pleading in his groans. when he cums, it’s hot, sticky, gentle, and he doesn’t move, just presses against you, holding you like he can’t let go. a: “don’t ever say that. i’ll… i’ll spend forever proving it if i have to.” he traces your jaw, forehead against yours, soft breath, shaking hands. his eyes are wet and sincere, full of worry and love. a: “you’re enough. all of you. always.” you cling, smiling and crying softly, and he whispers against your neck, letting his warmth and careful devotion wash over you completely.

how dad riize + seunghan met their wives !

shotaro

neither of you wanted to be there. that was the only thing the two of you unknowingly had in common before you even met. your best friend had spent three weeks insisting that you were “one good date away from changing your mind,” while shotaro’s older sister had practically shoved him out the front door with a clean shirt and the reminder that he wasn’t getting any younger. both of you had complained the entire way there.

you arrived first, already planning your excuse to leave after thirty minutes. you ordered a water instead of anything else because if you were going to escape early at least you wouldn’t have to wait for the check. a few minutes later the front door of the restaurant opened and shotaro walked in looking around the restaurant with the same reluctant expression you were wearing. he quietly sighed to himself, already convinced this was going to be horrible. the hostess greeted him with a polite smile and asked, “are you here to meet someone?” after he quietly answered, “yeah,” she asked for the name on the reservation before looking toward your table and pointing him in your direction.

he made his way over with an awkward smile that looked more apologetic than excited. “hi,” he greeted quietly as he stopped beside the table. “hi,” you answered, watching him pull out the chair. “i’m shotaro.” you couldn’t help the tiny smile that tugged at your lips as you replied, “im yn.” once he sat down silence settled between you. it wasn’t uncomfortable. neither of you seemed to know where to begin.

you finally broke the silence. you leaned back in your chair as you asked, “did someone force you to come too?” his eyes immediately brightened with relief. “you too?” he asked, sounding almost hopeful. you nodded. “i said no four times.” he stared at you for a second before laughing. "four?” he asked with an amused grin. “what about you?” you asked. “my sister stopped asking and just told me what time to be here.” for the first time all evening you smiled. “that’s kind of evil,” you admitted, making him nod. “a little.”

the tension disappeared almost instantly. instead of pretending either of you actually wanted to be on a blind date you started comparing stories about the people who had set you up. apparently your best friend and his sister worked together. they had been planning this for over a month and everyone else involved thought the whole thing was perfect. shaking your head you muttered, “i can’t believe they did this.” shotaro smiled. “honestly” he admitted, “i was already trying to think of an excuse to leave before i got here.”

#riize x reader #riize fluff #riize drabbles #riize scenarios #riize imagines #riize #shotaro riize #shotaro x reader #riize sungchan #sungchan x reader #wonbin riize #wonbin x reader #xnghan & xoul #seunghan x reader #sohee riize #sohee x reader #riize anton #anton x reader

hii can you pls do seunghan nsfw audio ?? your audios are really really good btw !!

omg ofc!!! I love his voice so much, I almost got distracted finding the audio for him bc I was listening to him talk and🥴 anyways lol, I hope it’s not too far off from his voice. I really did try to find one that was as close as possible! I have like three other audios to post for him (bc I’m so unbelievably down bad for him but we’ll talk abt that later🤫) ENJOY!

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯

PLEASE WEAR HEADPHONES🎧

Translation: “ah, baby…a bit faster…ha uh huh…like that…ha…ah…Baby, ah…ha, I can’t hold back…”

Heyy! I read that anton piece about 10 times😍 what do you think is the kissing style of each riize member?

riize’s kissing style ! ‎⸰ 𖥔 ͙ࣳ

➥ ◜ ⓘ how kissing riize would be like + their kissing styles

riize x gn!reader ☁︎ 𑇛 ۫ ៹ fluff kissing intimacy established relationship ◞♡ library

this is my first time writing something like this so please have mercy on me 🙏

OSAKI SHOTARO:

- sweet & gentle

- he’s definitely the type to smile into the kiss, maybe even giggles if he gets shy

- 100% likes to cup your face

- his kisses are more about making you feel loved rather than intensity.

you’re sitting on the couch, giggling so hard your cheeks slightly ache. you don’t even remember what the original joke was but shotaro’s smile was just as wide as yours. he leans forward, resting his forehead on yours for moment before looking into your eyes. “you’re so cute when you laugh” his voice comes out softly and before you could reply, shotaro leans in and his lips brush against yours, almost like he’s asking for permission.

you give him a slight nod and he’s immediately cupping your cheek with his hand, his thumb rubbing against your skin. once his lips touch yours, there’s a warmth that flows through you causing you to melt into his touch. he slightly grins against your lips before finally pulling away, hiding the grin that still hasn’t left his face into your shoulder

SONG EUNSEOK:

- tender & steady

{ ✎ accidentally sending you a nude - riize }

pairing: riize x reader

warnings: suggestive content, mostly just silliness, mentions of nudes, and dicks, mention of trump due to tiktok reference (link here), gypsy rose reference too (sorry yall 😭😭)

authors note: first time ever doing one of these so i hope i did okay 😭 tried to make it super silly so i hope you guys enjoy!!

MINORS DNI

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ♱ ྀིྀ 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗇𝖺 & 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾.

♱ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗂 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

♱ synopsis: Anton thinks he knows you better than anyone. He’s never had to witness what you become when hunger takes over—until one night, he does. And suddenly, you can’t tell who the monster is meant to be.

♱ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀(𝗌): cannibalism, morally dark themes, not meant to romanticize, mild descriptions of blood/gore, obsessive behavior, shaky morals, unhealthy relationship dynamics, manipulation/possessiveness, established relationship, eerie atmosphere, cottagecore elements.

In the small town of Mystic Falls, you and Anton were something close to a fairytale people swore they’d witnessed with their own eyes. The mayor’s son and the sheriff’s daughter—power, charm, and legacy wrapped neatly into two teenagers who seemed made for each other. It wasn’t just the titles, though. It was the way you fit.

At school, you were known as the couple. “Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince,” people would say with a mix of admiration and certainty, as if your ending had already been written. You were both exceptional—top of your classes, admired on the field, effortlessly beautiful in a way that didn’t even seem fair. Wherever you went, eyes followed. Not out of curiosity, but expectation. You were meant to be seen.

And Anton—Anton was everything people said he was.

Kind, in a way that felt intentional. Supportive, never letting you doubt yourself for too long. Communicative, always asking, always listening. Compassionate, even when you didn’t deserve it. And, of course, unbearably handsome—tall, polished, the kind of boy novelists wrote about and assumed didn’t actually exist.

When he first asked you out, your heart hadn’t just raced—it had panicked.

Part of it was obvious. He was the golden boy. The mayor’s son. The one everyone wanted, whether they admitted it or not. Saying yes felt like stepping into something bigger than yourself. It felt so frightening.

But the other reason… the real reason… was something you buried so deeply you almost convinced yourself it didn’t matter.

You had a secret.

A dark, gnawing thing that followed you no matter how perfect everything else seemed. A hunger you couldn’t explain away or ignore. Something ugly. Something wrong.

And yet—you said yes anyway.

Because you liked him. Because being with him felt normal in a way nothing else in your life ever had. Because for a moment, you thought maybe you could have both: the perfect relationship and the hidden truth.

Somehow, it worked. For nearly a year, you stayed together, building something that looked unbreakable from the outside.

But hunger doesn’t disappear just because you pretend it isn’t there.

There were nights when it clawed at you, unbearable and relentless. Nights when staying in bed beside Anton felt impossible. Nights when you slipped away quietly, careful not to wake him, already rehearsing excuses for the morning after.

You hated those moments. Hated the lies. Hated the way guilt settled heavy in your chest every time you went back home and found him sleeping on the couch waiting for you. God, you felt awful.

You told him different things each time—club meetings, stress, family matters, anything that sounded believable enough. And he never pushed too hard. Never accused. Never made you feel cornered.

So you thought he believed you.

You thought you were safe.

What you didn’t know… was that Anton had started to notice the pattern. The empty space beside him at night. The quiet way you slipped out. The way your explanations never quite lined up.

At first, he told himself it was nothing.

Then he wondered if it was something else.

Something worse.

By the time the thought of you with someone else crossed his mind, it didn’t leave.

And eventually, he decided he was done guessing.

So one night, after the Founding Fathers party, the two of you return home and go to bed like usual.

And when you think he’s asleep—

Anton decides to follow you.

Anton follows you stealthily into the forest, making sure to leave enough distance between the two of you. The dry leaves and sticks crack under his footsteps, but he doesn’t hear it — the only thing he can hear is the siren blaring in his head at the possibility of what you could be hiding.

Were you… cheating on him?

Is this where you meet him?

Tears start stinging his eyes at the thought. Was that man a better lover than him? He can feel himself getting angry. God, he swears that once he catches that guy, he will fucking break his face.

Fastening his pace, he manages to catch up to you—or… not.

You’re nowhere in sight. All of a sudden, he’s lost you completely.

The cool night breeze washes over his skin as he walks around, trying to find you. The darker, foggier part of the forest seems to call to him, and he makes a beeline toward it—until he finally reaches a small cottage tucked between a cluster of trees.

The atmosphere around the house feels eerie. He slows his steps as he approaches, almost backing away. He considers entering, but decides against it—

—until he hears a groan echo from inside.

It’s a girl.

A familiar one.

It’s you.

He scoffs at the sound. All sense and sensibility fly out the window. He makes a beeline for the cottage and barges in.

The room is dark, and the first thing that greets him is the metallic scent of blood. His eyes lock onto a figure crouched in the corner. He can’t fully make out what’s happening.

Unbeknownst to you, you continue eating, unaware of the figure standing behind you.

After going so long without feeding, your teeth and gums had almost forgotten what it felt like. The sensation of biting down again felt overwhelming—consuming, almost addictive—as blood stains your skin and drips down your neck.

You continue, unaware.

"What the fuck?"

You freeze at the voice behind you, dropping pieces of your meal from your mouth. You turn around, startled, coming face to face with your boyfriend—who looks more confused than horrified.

"Just… what the hell are you doing?" he asks, his eyes scanning you.

Your once elegant hair is now loose and messy. Your mascara is completely smudged. Your dress—once pristine—is stained.

The complete undoing of Mystic Falls’ perfect Miss Americana.

"Anton, I—I can explain."

Your heart is beating so fast you can hear it echo in your head. How could you even explain this to him? One moment you were holding his hand, greeting guests at the Founding Fathers event, and now you’re crouched on the floor, covered in someone else’s blood.

You slowly rise from the ground—never mind the piece of flesh that falls from your grasp.

You try to speak, but every time you open your mouth, you close it again, unable to form a logical explanation.

You break into tears, covering your mouth to muffle your choked sobs.

Anton looks at your small, retreating figure, then glances at the body on the floor. The pent-up anger, confusion, and suspicion all seem to boil over.

"So… this is what you’ve been doing behind my back?" he asks slowly, looking for confirmation. His face is a blank mask, unreadable as ever.

You open your mouth to respond—to lie, maybe—but the look on his face tells you there’s no point. There’s no way out of this.

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod slowly, keeping your eyes on the ground. You’re too ashamed to even look at him.

He must feel betrayed now. How could you hide something like this from him?

"Oh my God," is all he says.

More tears spill down your cheeks. God, how disgusted must he be? He’s probably going to break up with you—

"Oh my God."

He chuckles.

You look up.

He’s smiling. Wide. He looks… relieved?

"Oh God, baby, you scared me! I thought you were doing something heinous behind my back!"

How ironic.

You stand there frozen as he steps closer and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into him as if you aren’t covered in blood.

"I was so fucking worried. I thought you were cheating on me—that this was your secret place to meet him. God, I’m just so relieved—"

"Anton, stop. I—I’m confused. Why are you being like this?"

"Like what?"

"You’re so… normal. So okay with me being a human eater…"

"Is that it? That’s what bothers you?"

"Well, yes, Anton! I’m not exactly doing anything moral right now!"

'Morality is… flexible," he says quietly, like it’s nothing worth arguing over.

His thumb brushes against your cheek, smearing something he doesn’t bother to acknowledge.

"You don’t have to hide the ugly parts from me. They’re yours… so they’re mine too."

You stare at him in shock as blood slowly trails from the corner of your mouth.

"Baby… if you need more," he murmurs, almost soothingly, "you come to me. I’ll take care of it. All of it."

He says it so calmly, his eyes full of certainty. You stay quiet, studying his face, before slowly nodding.

He smiles.

"I love you."

You couldn't bring yourself to respond to that — not because you don't — but because you're extremely shocked. Your boyfriend just caught you devouring a human being's flesh like there's no tomorrow and he still decides to declare his love for you? Unbelievable.

He drapes his coat over your shoulders and begins leading you out of the house, rambling about how worried he was—that he thought you’d found someone else, someone better than him.

He might even offer himself, half-jokingly.

That night, he holds you tightly, repeating that everything is going to be fine.

And you can’t help but wonder—

If your once perfect boyfriend is truly perfect…

And if he’s not considered perfect because of this—

Then what does that make you?