#❛ ✧ ┊ when all is lost; then all is found. musings.

[gayfertilitygoddess]

[text in screenshot:

“Worldly people”, G. K. Chesterton mused, “never understand even the world; they rely altogether on a few cynical maxims which are not true.” And so it is for huge regions of the American ideological landscape when asked to explain the meteoric rise of Donald Trump in 2016, or his seemingly implausible return last week.

Far-left radicals, socialists, liberals, centrists, old-fashioned conservatives, academics, mainstream journalists, and everyone else who simply cannot imagine voting for the man themselves, all tend to default to one narrative: Many Americans are struggling economically, left behind, urgently wanting a more egalitarian society, and turned to a fascist movement in desperation. Bernie Sanders summed up this conventional wisdom succinctly; Democrats lost because they “abandoned the working class.”

Like many, Sanders had moved away from this narrative after 2016, and particularly after 2020, working closely with the Biden administration to pass the most economically progressive legislative agenda in two generations. During the same period, empirical research added its voice—study after study found ‘racial resentment’ a far bigger driver of support for Trump than ‘economic anxiety’. Neither Trump’s core support, nor the drift of formerly Democratic voters to him are well explained by economic desperation.

Like many cynical maxims that are not even true, it is kept aloft on a cloud of smaller, equally persistent, falsehoods. There is a trope that most Americans work ‘paycheck-to-paycheck’. They don’t. The median American has savings. Politicians on both the left and right love the rhetoric of Americans working multiple jobs to get by. In reality, less than 5% of the labour force does so (and that includes upper-class professionals like a lawyer who does consulting on the side).

Nor is it what voters themselves say: The average American thinks democrats are far too liberal. They see the party as to their left on both economic and social issues. Only 6% said they thought Harris was not liberal enough. This is not an electorate crying out for socialism, turning away from Democrats because they haven’t seized the means of production.

Finally, the narrative (hereafter called the ‘poverty narrative’) often assumes an outdated (and decidedly masculine) vision of a frustrated proletariat of laid off coal miners, quite at odds with the reality of life for most working Americans in the 21st century. The 23-year-old barista serving you coffee at Starbucks, who lives with roommates in a small apartment, who doesn’t have job security, or the ability to pursue her goals in life—she most likely did not vote for Trump. The electorate has undergone class realignment, but exit polls still show the lowest income Americans preferred Harris.

/end]

Pulling these later paragraphs out for emphasis:

As much as anything though, [the poverty narrative is] a morality play, one that emerges from our implicit frameworks and subconscious assumptions. Consider it in parallel to other explanations of the election: ‘it was a backlash to woke/cancel culture’; ‘young men are sick of feminism’, ‘the Democrats weren’t civil about Trump supporters’; and ‘Democrats shouldn’t have campaigned on trans rights.’ Notice that in all these narratives voters moving right are not granted any agency. They are just reacting to something liberals have done. As a result, liberals are implicitly assumed to bear responsibility for the outcome.

I call this ‘what did you say to make him hit you?’ politics. The implication is intentional: We tend to perceive both liberalism and the Democratic party as female-coded—the result of decades of heavily gendered use of language by conservatives. This filters into our assessment of moral responsibility (which is also gendered), in which we offer explanations for the bad behaviour of male-coded groups and shy away from direct condemnation. We are asked to ‘understand’ the perspective of those who shift to the right and cautioned against ‘dismissing’ them. Long narratives are concocted in which explanation fades into excuse.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

GOSHHH!!

I'm on my knees reading your stuff, you're soooo good. I finally found someone who writes Ivy in a delightful way.

Could you please write some Ivy down bad for reader when they meet in the waiting room after both of them lost their flight. It's freezing outside and they shared a cup of coffe. Something cute and a little smut, maybe?

Thank you honey :))

Thank you, darling! Means so much. 🤍✨

Missed flights

You knew you should have left yourself more time. New airports were always so much more confusing and now with only minutes to spare you were running to the gates as fast as you could. Trying to not run into anyone. “Final call to flight DF1465 all passengers please get to the gate immediately”. You cursed beneath your breath, skimming your eyes over the digital display. Before breaking into a run once more.

Slamming into someone’s side, losing your balance but not having enough time to spare. “I need to get on”, the man in front of you hands his ticket to the lady only to be met with a sharp shake of the head. “Gates are closed”. You step to the side of him, “Come on now, you just made the last call”, you frown. “Nothing can be done miss”, she shrugged, looking down at her computer.

“Well if you stopped bitching we would have already been on the flight”, the male grunted. “Is there a way to get on another plane now or anything?”, you asked, pleading, “I need to be on that plane”, “Well as all have wishes, no flight till Friday”, she clapped back. “Watch your tone”, the guy pointed at her right as she turned to leave, closing the gates.

You let your bag fall, just watching her go, already thinking of all the changes you would have to make. “Hey, sorry I bumped into you pretty hard beforehand”, the same guy gently reached out. You blinked looking at his blue eyes, “Yeah… don’t remember”, you chuckled softly. “Don’t tell me that I gave you a concussion?”, he frowned slightly shaking his head. “No, don’t worry”, you reassured him. “Well, this fucking sucks”, he grunted, running a hand over his face. “Also in a rush to get back?”, you looked at him sympathetically. “Oh, you can’t even imagine”, he sighed, “Ivy”. “My pleasure, YN”, you shook his head, “we can always try the front desk”, you motioned behind you.

That’s where you two spent the remaining 4h trying and fighting and arguing with every single person who came forward. Nothing. No one could give you any information and the closest flight was in 24h. “Let’s just go”, you pulled at his hand, feeling the exhaustion slowly settling in. Ivy shot the lady one more angry look before turning to you. “When was the last time you ate?”, he asked picking up his bag, before reaching for yours, muttering a quiet “let me”, before he took it from your hands. “Don’t remember”, you shrugged, “Well, we are eating then”, Ivy motioned for you to walk forward before following behind.

The little cafe you two found outside the airport was nearly empty, giving you both a much-needed rest and a space to talk. “We can book this?”, you turned your phone to Ivy showing him the room you had managed to find. “Not scared I’m a sociopath or anything?”, he chuckled taking a sip of his beer. You tilted your head to the side, “You don’t give me scary vibes”, you shrugged, “and if you do kidnap me at least you’re handsome”, “You think I’m handsome?”,’ a shit-eating grip spread across his face. “I’m sure that you know that you are”, you chuckled, “Oh, I do”, Ivy nodded, making you throw your head up as you laughed, “Humble much?”.

Ivy reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, thumb brushing your cheek, “You’re really pretty”, your cheeks instantly grew pink as you batted his hand away. “You’re just saying that so that we would be in the same room”, you rolled your eyes. “Absolutely, but mostly because you’re really pretty”, Ivy mused, clinking your beers together. Eyes fully focused on you.

[thebiggerbear]

i think i've seen this film before

Summary: When three certain little words escape him, you know them for what they are: a plea not to leave him alone with only his thoughts and whiskey for company. You've seen this song and dance before.

Warnngs: heavy angst, cheating/infidelity, light smut, dagger analogy (Idk if this is a thing but putting it here in case)

Word Count: 2202

Response to prompt from @me-writes-prompts

A/N: Yes, I'm still on writing hiatus but this came pouring out of me today from where I have no idea. Must be the holiday. I feel like this happened last year, too, with Something Real which was also a bucket of angst and heartbreak. So it definitely has to be the holiday then. All completely unbeta'd (and probably very messy quite truthfully, I'll have to come back and try to clean it up later tonight, there may be some switching around of tenses, sorry!). As an aside, I don't condone any form of cheating but this just came out as is and I was so relieved to be writing something, that I just kind of went with it. I was going to keep it as a blank character x reader but in the end, the muse overruled me and let a name slip of who it was imagined to be. She's a sneaky bitch who can't be trusted to keep anything resembling a secret, I swear.

You can also read on AO3

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“I love you.”

Those three little words, barely said in a whisper, make you freeze. After your heart starts beating again, after your brain has processed that yes, he really just said that, you continue slipping your shirt over your head. 

Once you pull your hair free from your neckline, you turn to where you left him moments earlier, sprawled out on his back on the bed, an arm behind his head with the mist of sweat drying on his skin, his hair a crime scene of damp wayward strands with your fingers having been the perpetrator. You find him watching you intently with those eyes that you swear can see down to the deepest parts of you zeroed in on your face, a faint trace of hope lining the irises you’ve so often found yourself lost in these past few months. You momentarily clench your jaw as you steel yourself to say what you need to. “You shouldn’t say that to me.”

Where you expected to see heartbreak or some vestiges of pain, you only saw determination, suddenly renewed. You then realize your mistake. You hadn’t said the one word he expected to hear, the one he needed to hear: No. So it doesn’t surprise you when you see the hope in his gaze flare brighter, perhaps believing he’s not alone in this after all. 

You watch as he moves aside the thin sheet covering the last traces of his modesty, fully revealing himself to you as he swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands. The irony of the action is not lost on you; he’s making himself vulnerable before you, letting you see every inch of him, even what’s beyond skin deep.

He is suddenly before you, this large man whose hulking stature had completely dwarfed you minutes ago as he had pushed your thighs back and pistoned in and out of you, groans escaping him as droplets of his sweat christened your bare skin repeatedly. And yet, despite the size of him, here he is, exposing himself in such a way that you feel like the tall one, even as you crane your neck to meet his intent gaze head on.

The tips of his fingers gently urge your chin up a little higher so he can see all of you, both of you laid bare to one another as his eyes swallow you whole. “Yes, I should,” he murmurs. “I love you.” You know what’s about to happen, especially as his eyelids lower slightly and he begins to dip his head. The insatiable monster inside you craves his lips on yours, his tongue tangling with yours in a tango that mimics the one your bodies just did, craves him, but you force yourself to pull away.

Ignoring the hurt lining his expression, you turn to look for your shoes that had been kicked off as you both stumbled into the room, glued to one another and tearing at each other’s clothes in your desperate need to have your skin meeting his. Once you spot them, you take a step in that direction when his hand on your elbow stops you.

“Baby,” he pleads. 

“Don’t,” you whisper, refusing to look at him like he’s begging you to.

When you attempt to move again, his hand releases you only for his arm to snake around your waist and prevent you from leaving. You’re not surprised when he pulls you closer and you can feel the scratchiness of his unshaven face against your neck as he burrows into you.

“I love you, Y/N,” he rasps into your ear. He’s begging again, though this time you know it’s more for you not to leave more than his insistence on your belief in his feelings for you. He doesn’t want you to leave him here, alone with only his thoughts to keep him company along with some top shelf whiskey the hotel staff stocks exclusively for him in the mini bar. 

It used to work, this heartfelt plea whispered against your skin, nuzzled against your cheek, pressed against your lips, until you gave in and let him lay you back down on the bed, giving yourself over to him completely for however long he wanted you. Now, though, you’ve grown stronger, smarter, and that’s why it’s easier than ever to push away from him and look him dead in the eye. “Then get a divorce.”

You see the expected pain magnify throughout his handsome face and you take the opportunity of his reaction to your response to finally move away and grab your shoes, slipping them on as quickly as possible. 

He quietly clears his throat before the familiar deep voice that has murmured the dirtiest and sweetest things you’ve ever heard into your ear tears through the quiet paper-thin hush of the room that usually exists once your frenzied lovemaking ceases. “Y/N, we’ve talked about this. You know I can’t—”

“Not my problem,” snaps out of you. You don’t even bother to roll your eyes anymore at the age-old response he gives you every time you dose both of you with reality like this. Except it is your problem, very much your problem. Hell, it became your problem the moment you allowed him into your apartment that one snowy night, fully knowing you were about to change your life forever and not necessarily for the better. When you finally found out how easily your scratches could be seen on his skin, how divine his lips tasted especially after they had drunk deeply from yours and your body still ricocheted with aftershocks from your orgasm, and how taut his back muscles became with every slow and hard thrust into you. When you found out how intoxicating the sounds of his groans in your ear were as he took pleasure in what your body offered his, how dry your mouth was afterwards from all of the loud panting you did as his mouth ghosted over yours while he repeatedly hit that one spot deep within you, and how tightly he held onto you once he came, unwilling to let you go until he had absolutely had to.

You tamp down the desire you feel unfurling underneath your skin at the memories of that night and grab your jacket and handbag from where you’d tossed them. You refuse to think any further about that night, about how he had begged you to let him in, his chest heaving and snowflakes rapidly melting in his short hair, his eyes darker than you’d ever seen them and glancing repeatedly at your lips. You absolutely don’t think about the way his mouth desperately claimed yours the moment you opened the door wider and he was on you, kicking the door shut behind him. Or about how only minutes later he had you backed up against the wall, your jeans and panties tossed away somewhere, and him on his knees with his head buried between your legs, making you grip his hair as you bit your lip so hard it bled. Or even about how you had clawed at the wall he had turned you to face as he pounded away at you, his hand turning your head so he could sloppily kiss you, grunting loudly into your ear with every thrust as the rough fabric of his coat sleeve rubbed against your neck. Or how the buckle of his open belt rattled with his movements, only to be rivaled by your own cries, both being surpassed by his loud drawn out roar of “Fuck!” as he buried himself to the hilt within you and burrowed his face into your neck. His hot and harsh breaths dampened your skin while you reached a hand up to run soothingly through his wet hair, struggling to regain the ability to breathe yourself. No, you weren't going to think about how he then moved you to your bedroom from where neither of you emerged until hours later in search of sustenance and electrolytes.

Instead of allowing yourself to get lost in the thoughts of that night, you take a small breath and start heading for the door.

“I love you, dammit.” He’s angry now, just as you knew he would be the closer you got to leaving, leaving him. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”

You stop and you hear him take a step closer. You don’t have to turn to look at him to know there is a cautious renewal of hope lighting his eyes. You had stopped after all. But you both have done this dance before and each time it ends the same way. 

“No, you don’t,” you answer him quietly, almost gently. Your aim is not to hurt him, never to hurt him. He’s been hurt enough and you will be damned if will be like her and add to his pain. But at the same time, you can’t lie nor will you continue to swallow any of his. So, like always, you spare him but not yourself. “You think you do, but you don’t. You don’t love me.”

“Yes, I do.” He’s closer now, his voice is cracking slightly…he’s a few moments away from coiling his arms around you like a snake and keeping you from walking out the door, again. 

And so you make it quick, you plunge the dagger of truth into your own chest and let the pain bloom within you, spreading quickly through your veins like wildfire. “You don’t because if you did, you wouldn’t keep me in a holding pattern like this.” You then force yourself to turn and face him, your eyes hard as diamonds and your face one of stone. “I’m purely a convenient fuck for you when you get lonely, or someone to call when it all becomes too much. This isn’t even an affair. I’m nothing more than a painkiller that comes with an orgasm or two. That’s it and you know it. So, no, you don’t love me, because if you did, you would never use me like this.”

As expected, his eyes widen and his jaw drops. You can see the protests building in his throat but you cut him off.

“And if I loved you, I wouldn’t let you continue to use me like this.” 

He stands there, staring at you, a small sadness growing in his deep gaze. This always happens. As much as you try to spare him and not bleed out your pain all over him, some tiny amount almost always splashes onto him. You can’t help that. One of you has to be the strong one and keep it real; it just happens to always be you.

So you don’t allow his crestfallen expression to get to you and you lift your chin slightly, rolling your shoulders back as you straighten your spine. “I’ll see you when I see you.” 

You spin on your heel and stride towards the door. When your fingers grab onto the door handle, you hear a broken plea of “Don’t leave…please.” You clench your jaw and force yourself to open the door, refusing to look back.

“Goodbye, Jensen.”

You walk across the threshold and pull the door closed behind you. You make your way to the elevators, unsurprised that he doesn’t quickly dress and run after you. He never has before; why would that change now? When the elevator dings and thankfully the car is empty, you step into it and hit the “close door” button. You wait and as expected, no calls of “Wait!” or chimes of your phone sound as the doors take their sweet time closing despite their directive. Once they’re shut, once there is no possibility of him seeing you or hearing you, you sink against the wall of the car and grasp at your chest, your breath loudly catching as the full weight of the pain you had denied yourself begins to flow through you anew. Tears mark your cheeks and you let out a sound akin to a strangled sob. 

Yes, you do love him and that is why you continue to let him use you in this way. That is why you opened the door that night and let him in, fully knowing what was going to happen. That is why you allowed him to take your friendship and mangle it into whatever dark and hopeless form it takes now. You fucking love him; of course you do.  In the same breath, though, you know he doesn’t love you and this last bit of pain is what finishes you as the elevator continues to descend: and he never will. You turn your body to face the corner and hold a hand over your mouth, beginning to cry outright. He will never love you the way you love him. No matter how many times you run to him when he calls, no matter how you let him take pleasure in you or comfort in your arms, no matter how many times you’ve begged him to end things with her and be with you instead…he will never love you. You loudly sob as the sharp tip of that truth dagger from before lodges itself into your heart, almost neatly fitting into the groove from all of the previous times. Your heartbreak is the only sound that echoes throughout the small space along with the glaring silence of your phone. And just like that, once again, the dance comes to its predictable end.

A/N: So yeah, sorry about that. As always, no disrespect is ever meant to Jensen, Danneel, or their family. I'm not suggesting or implying anything about either Jensen or Danneel, I just had him in my head while writing. Purely fictional.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

Jensen RPF: @ladykitana90; @lemonfreak97; @lacilou; @waynes-multiverse

Forever Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel; @hobby27; @impala67rollingthroughtown; @ladysparkles78

[icameasiam]

ᵀʰᵉ   ˢᵗᵃᵗⁱᶜ   ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉˢ   ᵐᵉ   ⁱⁿ   ᵃ   ᶜᵃᵗᵃᵗᵒⁿⁱᶜ   ᵖᵉᵃᶜᵉ   —   ᵗᵃᵍ   ᵈʳᵒᵖ

[vintersang]

*   TAG DROP: For the Muse

❛   ✧  ┊ she seemed fragile like a moonflower. aesthetic.

❛   ✧  ┊ cold secrets deep inside. headcanon.

❛   ✧  ┊ when all is lost; then all is found. musings.

❛   ✧  ┊ split the ice apart; beware the frozen heart. chara study.

❛   ✧  ┊ dressed in the finest white gauze. wardrobe.

❛   ✧  ┊ magic tumbled from her pretty lips. cosmetics.

❛   ✧  ┊ all the land was covered in eternal ice and snow. arendelle.

❛   ✧  ┊ the woods are lovely; dark and deep. enchanted forest.

❛   ✧  ┊ if it's not chocolate; it's not breakfast. recipes.

❛   ✧  ┊ freezing you to the bone; the ice does not forgive. magic.

❛   ✧  ┊ every breath you’re breathing is a beautiful song. skills.

❛   ✧  ┊ we will always share the moon and stars. her familiars.

❛   ✧  ┊ the veil disappears and you'll see it all. inspiration.

❛   ✧  ┊ like stepping into a fairy tale under a curtain of stars. likes.

❛   ✧  ┊ she's so beautiful and delicate; but she was of ice. belongings.

❛   ✧  ┊ love speaks in flowers; truth requires thorns. desires.

❛   ✧  ┊ she is magic and midnight lace. meta.

[faebled-stories]

The Touch of Time

Kinkvember Day 15: Breeding

Aespa Winter (Kim Minjeong) x Male reader

11.6k words

AN: We are halfway done! This is the longest fic so far, I really enjoyed the concept. Thank you all for the continuous support💖

In the distant future, humanity had shed many of the biological “weaknesses” that once defined it. From the moment of birth, every individual was fitted with a slim, almost invisible patch on their abdomen. This patch, designed to suppress primal desires and impulses, was hailed as a revolutionary step forward in the control of human behavior. Gone were the distractions of physical intimacy, the emotional turbulence tied to desire, and the chaotic unpredictability of natural reproduction.

DNA was now quietly harvested from a simple strand of hair, and reproduction took place in sterile laboratories, pristine and efficient. Physical touch, especially in the context of intimacy, was considered primitive, even taboo—an unnecessary relic of a less evolved past.

Minjeong, a young historian with an insatiable curiosity for the “old ways,” had always felt slightly out of place in this world. Her field of study focused on the intricacies of ancient human customs, the rituals and behaviors that had once bound people together. She spent her days in archives and libraries, poring over fragments of lives long gone.

Sometimes, in moments of quiet reflection, she wondered what it might have been like to live in a time when physical connection hadn’t been stifled by a patch. Yet, even with her questions, she had never truly dared to challenge the norms she had grown up with—until the day she discovered the book.

It was hidden, almost intentionally, in a shadowed corner of the university's vast, neglected library, coated in dust as if the world had tried to forget it. The cover was nondescript, worn smooth by time, with no title to hint at its contents. But as Minjeong opened it, a chill crept down her spine, and her heart began to pound.

The pages held something she had only read about in the most clinical terms: they described, in startling detail, how humans had once procreated—naturally, through touch, mutual pleasure, and deep, emotional connection. These words, so evocative and raw, held an intimacy she had never encountered, not even in fleeting dreams. The patch she wore had always silenced any stray curiosity about such things, but now, as she read each vivid passage, something unfamiliar and undeniable began to awaken inside her.

As she pored over the descriptions, a strange, tingling warmth spread through her body. She could hardly believe what she was reading—the language spoke of touch, skin meeting skin, the rush of unrestrained joy, sensations too elusive to truly grasp, yet undeniably alluring. She felt a pull, as though the book was leading her somewhere deeper within herself, a place she hadn’t known existed.

She kept reading, page after page, her cheeks flushing, her breath catching at times as she envisioned the “lost art” of human connection. What would it feel like, she wondered, to touch another person like that? To be touched, to share in a pleasure as mutual and instinctive as the book described.

Unable to contain her fascination, Minjeong decided to share her discovery with her friends. She met Karina, Giselle, and Ningning at their usual café, a sleek establishment with an atmosphere as controlled and pristine as the society it served. They were her closest friends, the only ones who tolerated her historical musings, though they saw them as mere eccentricities.

As they sipped on perfectly brewed coffee, Minjeong took a deep breath, gathering the courage to explain.

“So,” Minjeong began, her voice edged with excitement and trepidation, “I found this book in the library. It’s about... how humans used to procreate, you know, before the patch system.”

Giselle’s eyebrows shot up, and she let out a dismissive laugh. “Oh, here we go again. Minjeong, your obsession with ancient history is cute and all, but nobody wants to hear about people being all... gross and sweaty with each other.”

Minjeong’s face fell, but she pushed on, determined. “It’s not gross. It’s fascinating. The book describes the way they used to connect physically—how touch meant something. They had this thing called ‘orgasms,’ where their bodies would—”

“Orgasms?” Karina interrupted, giggling incredulously. “You mean, like, they’d enjoy rubbing up against each other? Like animals? That’s seriously disgusting.”

Ningning made a face, shaking her head. “I mean, why would anyone want that? We’ve evolved past that kind of stuff for a reason. I can’t even imagine wanting someone to touch me like that. Ugh.”

Minjeong’s cheeks flushed, but she pressed on, hoping to convey what she had felt while reading. “But don’t you see? It wasn’t just about the physical. The book talks about an emotional bond, a connection we can’t even comprehend anymore. Doesn’t that make you curious?”

Giselle leaned forward, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Curious? More like horrified. People used to waste time on that nonsense when we have perfectly good tech now. Why would anyone choose to go back to those primitive, messy days?”

Ningning chimed in, her tone a mix of disbelief and pity. “And for what, unnie? So we could feel... what exactly? A little thrill? That’s why we have simulations and sensory upgrades. Why would you even want something so... physical?”

“It’s not about just feeling something,” Minjeong said softly, though her voice shook. “It’s about connection. The book talks about something that went beyond just pleasure or physicality. It describes a bond, an intimacy that’s emotional, even spiritual. Don’t you ever wonder what that would be like?”

Her friends exchanged glances, almost as if they were silently agreeing that Minjeong had gone a step too far.

Karina crossed her arms, her expression guarded. “Honestly, Minjeong, you’re starting to sound a little obsessed. You’ve read too many old books, and now you’re idealizing a time when people barely understood themselves, let alone each other. It’s sad, really, how desperate they were.”

“Yeah,” Ningning agreed, shaking her head slowly. “You’re talking about a past that’s been left behind for a reason. I mean, if it was so great, why didn’t people keep doing it? They moved on, unnie. We all have.”

The conversation shifted soon after, with the others eagerly diving into discussions of their daily lives, work, and the latest technological advancements. Minjeong felt a heavy ache in her chest as she realized her friends couldn’t understand, and worse, they had no desire to try.

She thought of the book’s vivid descriptions—the gentle brush of fingers on skin, the shared gasps of pleasure, the promise of something deeper than she had ever known. It was as if she had stumbled upon a secret hidden within herself, and now, in the presence of her friends, that secret felt more precious but also more isolating.

Karina glanced at her, almost scolding. “Listen, Minjeong, you should probably stop reading stuff like that before it gets too far into your head. You’ll end up wanting things that just... don’t exist anymore.”

As they laughed and changed the subject, Minjeong stayed quiet, her mind lingering on the words in the book, replaying them in her thoughts like a forbidden melody. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the book was more than just a historical relic. It was a portal to something lost yet profoundly human—something she had been denied all her life.

Over the next few days, Minjeong’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts about the book. The descriptions of intimacy, of deep pleasure, and undeniable connection replayed in her head, each line lingering like a tantalizing whisper. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she had glimpsed something profound, something long buried beneath the surface of her controlled world. The idea of experiencing real touch, raw and unfiltered, was impossible to ignore.

Driven by an insatiable curiosity, she decided to track down the author. The book seemed modern enough that she guessed its writer might still be alive. Hours of searching through online records and old archives finally led her to a name, yours.

She imagined you as an older scholar, perhaps with a lifetime of wisdom etched into your eyes—a figure hardened by years of research and deep understanding. But when she met you, her expectations unraveled. You were young, intense, and enigmatic, with a kind of fire in your gaze that spoke of passions and convictions hidden beneath the surface. In your eyes, she saw something she hadn’t expected: the same fascination with the past, the same relentless hunger to understand what had been lost.

Sitting across from each other in a quiet café, Minjeong couldn’t help but notice how differently you seemed to see the world. As you talked, your expressions shifted with each thought, a flash of yearning in your eyes that mirrored her own. Your voice carried a weight, each word carefully chosen as if guarding a truth no one else would understand.

“It’s strange,” she murmured, stirring her tea slowly, gathering her thoughts. “I’ve spent so long studying history, but I never realized how disconnected I feel from… everything. And then I read your book, and it felt like something inside me woke up, something that had been quiet my entire life.”

You leaned forward, a softness in your gaze that made her feel seen. “I know exactly what you mean,” you replied, your voice low and warm. “That’s why I wrote it. I wanted to preserve something real, something that made us human. The world today—it’s too sanitized, too empty. The patch has robbed us of something vital, something that our ancestors once cherished.”

She paused, uncertain whether to share her feelings about the reactions she’d faced from her friends. But your understanding eyes, the way you listened as if her words were precious, made her feel safe.

“My friends… they don’t understand,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. “They think it’s disgusting to even consider physical touch or intimacy. When I tried to tell them about the book, they laughed. They don’t want to imagine it, let alone experience it. I feel… so alone.”

Your expression softened as you listened, and you hesitated just a moment before reaching out, your hand hovering near hers. The space between your fingers felt charged, almost electric. “You’re not alone, Minjeong,” you said, voice steady yet full of emotion. “I’ve thought about it constantly, too. I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to take off the patch… to feel something real. But… I’ve never met anyone who would even consider it.”

Her heart pounded at your words, the thought flickering to life in her mind. She had been wondering the same thing for days—the possibility of removing the patch and experiencing everything the book described. Just imagining it made her pulse quicken, filling her with equal parts excitement and apprehension.

“Do you think…” Minjeong hesitated, searching your face. “Do you think we could try it? Take off the patch?”

You looked at her in surprise, something deeper stirring in your eyes—a longing that mirrored her own. “You mean… actually take it off?” you murmured. “You know it’s illegal, right?”

She nodded, feeling her breath catch, a flutter of thrill and nerves swelling in her chest. “Yes. I know. But… I want to know what it’s like. With you.” She paused, swallowing. “We just met but... I trust you.”

The air around you seemed to shift, growing thicker with the unspoken possibility lingering between you. Slowly, you reached out, your hand brushing gently against her arm, and even this slight contact sent a jolt through her, a strange warmth spreading from the place where your skin met hers.

“Are you sure?” you asked, your voice soft, eyes locked on hers. “Once we do this, Minjeong, we can’t go back.”

She met your gaze, her heart pounding, her face flushed with a mixture of excitement and something else—an ache she couldn’t explain. “I’m sure.”

The decision was made. Together, you prepared to take a step into the unknown, an act that felt both terrifying and thrilling. Moving in tandem towards stillness of your apartment, everything seemed sharper, as though the air itself were holding its breath with you. Minjeong lay down on your bed, her breathing shallow, chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm.

With a steadying breath, she began to strip, her movements deliberate and unhurried. She lifted her shirt over her head, revealing smooth, bare skin and the soft fabric of her bra hugging her form. Her fingers hesitated briefly before slipping down to unbutton her pants, sliding them off her legs until she stood there, clad only in her bra and panties. The small, smooth patch on her abdomen glinted faintly in the soft light—a mark of society’s control that had rested there for as long as she could remember.

To Minjeong, that patch represented a lifetime of safety, control, and order. It was all she had ever known, a constant presence that quieted any restless stirrings she might have felt. And yet, now, with you beside her, that little patch seemed more like a barrier—a thin, deceptive shield that stood between her and a life of real, unbridled sensation. For the first time, she felt ready to shed it.

You knelt beside her, heart hammering as your fingers hovered just above her skin. A thousand questions flickered in your mind, but one glance at Minjeong’s face told you she felt the same determination you did. This was an uncharted intimacy, raw and vulnerable, and as you gently laid your hand on her side, you felt the heat of her skin, warm and alive beneath your touch.

“Are you ready?” you asked softly, your voice barely more than a whisper, as though the room could be shattered by any louder sound.

Minjeong’s eyes met yours, filled with a trust so complete it took your breath away. She nodded, her voice a delicate thread. “I trust you.”

With a deep breath, you carefully examined the patch, your fingers brushing over its edges, searching for the small, hidden stitches. You had studied its design and knew the mechanics, but this was different. Here was Minjeong, lying before you, vulnerable, willing to let you unlock something deeply forbidden.

Your fingers found the first stitch, and with painstaking care, you began to unfasten it. Each small movement felt weighted with meaning, every shift of your hand a step further into the unknown. As you worked, a tiny prick of resistance tugged back each time you pulled at a stitch, as though the patch itself knew what you were doing, as though it was reluctant to release its hold.

A soft, sharp gasp escaped Minjeong’s lips halfway through, her hand instinctively reaching for you. She clutched your arm tightly, her grip firm yet trembling as she squeezed. Her breaths came quicker, each inhale shallow, as though her body itself were already bracing for the world that lay beyond the patch’s control.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, voice gentle and soothing. You brushed your thumb softly against her arm, steadying her. “Hang in there, okay?”

Your words seemed to ground her, and slowly, she nodded, her face easing as she held onto you. The tension in her shoulders melted just enough for you to continue, and she focused on your voice, your touch, letting the pain drift away.

Finally, the last stitch slipped free. The patch gave way with a faint click, and as you lifted it, Minjeong’s entire body tensed, then softened in a single, breathless moment. Her eyes widened, a gasp catching in her throat as a strange warmth began to spread beneath her skin.

It felt like an electric current, a gentle buzz awakening nerves that had long been asleep. Her pulse quickened, beating fiercely against her ribs, echoing in her ears as her senses seemed to open, stretching in ways she hadn’t known were possible.

The air felt sharper, the softness of the bed more pronounced against her back, the sound of your breathing louder, more intimate. A flush rose to her cheeks, and she blinked up at you, her gaze dazed, overwhelmed by the torrent of sensations flooding her.

Your own breath hitched as you watched her, feeling the weight of her unguarded trust, the openness in her gaze. Her vulnerability mirrored your own, and it gave you the courage to act. With a steeling breath, you reached for your patch, the small, oppressive mark that had governed your life for so long.

Your fingers trembled as you slipped them beneath its edges, the adhesive resisting your touch. Heart pounding, you braced yourself for the pain. Gritting your teeth, you tugged hard. A sharp, searing ache ripped through your side, fiery and almost unbearable, as if the patch was trying to hold on, refusing to let go of the control it had over you.

But then it came free, leaving your skin raw and tingling, and you gasped, clutching the small device in your hand.

As the pain faded, a new sensation filled the space it left—a pulse of energy that rushed through your body, illuminating every nerve. The world sharpened around you, clearer, more vivid, as though a veil had been lifted. The faint hum of distant noises, the warmth of the room, the softness of the bed—everything felt magnified, brimming with a life you had never felt before.

For a moment, the two of you simply sat there, eyes wide, barely able to process the surge of sensations overwhelming you both. Each heartbeat, each breath, seemed to resonate with newfound depth, rippling through you in waves.

You looked at her, marveling at the transformation in her expression, her eyes wide and glistening with wonder. She looked back, her face a reflection of the awe you felt, a silent affirmation that you were both feeling something real, something profound.

“Do you feel it?” you asked softly, voice hushed with reverence, your gaze locked with hers.

Minjeong nodded, her lips parting as her voice came in a soft, breathless whisper. “I feel… everything.”

Without the patch, every touch, every brush of skin felt magnified, alive with a rawness that left Minjeong dizzy. Her senses felt heightened, each nerve sparking as if awakened for the first time. The air seemed thicker, charged with an energy she could almost taste, and her skin buzzed with an unfamiliar intensity. When you reached out, gently placing your hand on her thigh, her entire body jolted as a wave of warmth spread from where your hand rested, pulsing outward. Her breath hitched, her heart thudding as she instinctively leaned into your touch, craving more of this strange, electric feeling she couldn’t name.

Your hand moved slowly, almost reverently, sliding higher as your fingers traced delicate patterns on her skin. Each tiny movement sent sparks through her body, lighting up places within her that had been silent all her life. Minjeong’s body quivered, her skin hyperaware of every inch you touched, as if your fingers were leaving trails of fire in their wake. Her hips shifted involuntarily, her body responding to you with an eagerness she barely understood but couldn’t resist.

When your fingers brushed over the delicate place between her legs, a flood of sensation hit her, and her control snapped, unraveling as her entire being reacted to that single touch. The pressure, the intensity—it was overwhelming. She felt her body arch, a soft gasp escaping her lips as a surge of heat radiated through her, more powerful than anything she could have imagined.

“Oh—oh my God,” Minjeong gasped, her voice trembling as her hips bucked against your hand, her body acting on instincts that felt both new and achingly familiar.

You froze for a moment, watching her with wide eyes as her body trembled under your touch. Minjeong’s breath came in short, desperate bursts, her chest rising and falling as an uncontrollable wave of pleasure surged within her. She reached out, clutching at your arm as if you were her anchor, her gaze meeting yours with a mixture of awe, confusion, and something else—a deep, unspoken yearning.

“What’s happening to me?” Her voice was barely a whisper, breathless, as her body shook, caught in a sensation that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

You looked down at her, your gaze filled with understanding and warmth, as if you knew exactly what she was feeling. Brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, you leaned closer, your voice low and soothing. “I... I think you just had an orgasm.”

The word echoed in her mind, stirring memories of the book’s descriptions—the culmination of human intimacy, the apex of physical connection that had always seemed like a distant concept.

She remembered the clinical language, the detached explanations, and realized just how shallow those words had been. They hadn’t prepared her for this—something so consuming, so raw it made her feel as though she was discovering a part of herself that had been hidden all her life.

Her fingers tightened around your arm, anchoring herself as she felt the aftershocks ripple through her, each one leaving her a little more breathless. “That was... an orgasm?” she whispered, her voice tinged with wonder and disbelief.

You nodded, a small smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you watched her, your expression filled with tenderness and awe. “Yeah,” you murmured. “Just like in the book... but maybe better than either of us ever imagined.”

Minjeong lay back, her mind reeling, as her body continued to hum with the afterglow of pleasure. She felt alive, awake in a way she’d never known before, as though she’d unlocked something deeply hidden within her. She had just experienced an orgasm—something her body had been denied all her life, a sensation so visceral it left her trembling.

“I... I didn’t think it would feel like that,” She admitted, her voice soft and still a bit unsteady. She looked up at you, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wide. “It felt... so much more than anything I read. It was like... like I was completely free, like I’d let go of something I’d been holding onto forever.”

You reached out, your fingers brushing her cheek in a gentle, grounding touch. Your gaze was steady, filled with warmth, as if you truly understood what she was feeling. “It’s different when you experience it,” you said softly, your voice soothing. “The patch kept it all locked away for so long... it makes sense it would feel this intense.”

As the waves of her orgasm began to subside, a new feeling stirred within Minjeong—an instinctual curiosity, an urge she hadn’t anticipated. She felt an almost primal desire to reciprocate, to touch you the way you had touched her. If her body had responded so powerfully, so completely, to your touch, what would happen if she reached out to you?

The thought of seeing you experience that same kind of release, of watching your body tremble and surrender to pleasure, sent a fresh surge of excitement coursing through her, a thrill that made her heartbeat quicken.

Without hesitation, she shifted closer, her fingers reaching out tentatively to trace a line down your stomach. The feeling of your skin under her fingertips felt both foreign and exhilarating. She could feel your muscles tense beneath her touch, your breath hitching as her hand drifted lower, guided by a mixture of curiosity and a lingering echo of the sensations she’d just experienced.

Her movements were deliberate yet hesitant, testing the boundaries of her newfound courage. Slowly, Minjeong’s fingers found the waistband of your pants. With a slight glance up, her gaze met yours, searching for any sign of hesitation. When she found none, she hooked her fingers into the fabric, tugging them down along with your boxers in a single motion, exposing you completely. Her breath hitched, her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t stop.

Her hand moved with a new confidence, wrapping around you gently, the warmth of her touch sending a jolt through your body. You exhaled sharply, the sensation overwhelming, and she couldn’t help but notice the way your body responded instantly to her. A soft groan escaped your lips, your hips shifting slightly toward her touch as if your body was seeking more.

She began to move her hand slowly, cautiously, her strokes experimental but deliberate, guided by what she’d read and a deep, unspoken desire to bring you the same kind of pleasure she’d just felt. The weight and heat beneath her palm were new, almost intoxicating, as she adjusted to the rhythm that seemed to draw those delicious, throaty sounds from you.

“Minjeong…” Your voice was low, breathless, your eyes dark with a mixture of surprise and desire. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” she whispered, her determination evident in the way her strokes became more confident. “I want you to feel what I felt.”

Her hand moved steadily, her touch becoming bolder as your body reacted to her. She felt the tension ripple through your muscles, your breathing growing heavier with every passing moment. Each groan, each subtle arch of your hips, sent a shiver down her spine, fueling her desire to keep going.

Your hands gripped the sheets beneath you as her pace quickened, her strokes more purposeful now. The room filled with the sound of your ragged breaths and soft moans, the intensity of the moment overwhelming both of you. She watched your face, captivated, as the tension in your body built toward an inevitable release, your hips moving in time with her hand in a desperate, instinctual rhythm.

Minjeong’s curiosity got the better of her as she adjusted her position, leaning closer to get a better look. Her eyes lingered on every detail, mesmerized by how your body responded to her touch. She wanted to see everything, to witness the effect she had on you up close. Her hand continued its rhythm, her strokes steady and deliberate, her lips slightly parted in concentration as her gaze stayed fixed on you.

Then, with a deep, guttural moan, your body tensed, your muscles tightening as your climax surged through you. Minjeong’s eyes widened as she felt the first sudden, hot burst against her hand. She gasped in surprise, her heart pounding as she watched, unable to look away. The release was powerful, shooting hard and fast, catching her completely off guard.

A warm streak hit her cheek and trailed down to her jaw, while more landed on her neck and pooled in her hands. Her breath hitched as she stared, her lips parting in astonishment at the sight. The moment felt surreal, intimate, and raw, leaving her stunned and unsure of what to say or do.

Her face flushed a deep red as she glanced up at you, her hand still resting lightly against you. “Oh my God,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “Did I… did we waste it? I-It’s supposed to… you know… go inside.” Her gaze flicked nervously between you and the evidence pooling in her hands, uncertainty clouding her features.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you came down from the high, your body still trembling slightly from the intensity. Slowly, your eyes fluttered open, the glazed expression softening as you met her worried gaze. A gentle smile tugged at your lips, and you let out a low, reassuring chuckle.

“No, Minjeong,” you said softly, shaking your head. “You didn’t mess up. This… this is normal. You did everything right.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly at your words, her lips curving into a shy, tentative smile as she glanced down at the evidence of her effect on you. Still holding it in her hands, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Despite her initial embarrassment, a flicker of pride warmed her chest—she’d brought you to this moment, and it filled her with an intoxicating mix of exhilaration and wonder.

Minjeong’s gaze lingered on her hands, her fingers glistening with the warm remnants of your release. A curious expression crossed her face as she processed everything, her mind racing. She had read about this before—about the way a man’s body reacted at the height of pleasure—but witnessing it firsthand, feeling the heat of it against her skin, was entirely different. It was raw, intimate, and strangely captivating.

Her brow furrowed slightly as she continued to look, her curiosity getting the better of her. Almost without thinking, she tilted her hand, letting a small trail of it slide down her finger. She hesitated for a moment, glancing at you as if seeking silent permission. Then, emboldened by the heat still lingering between you, she brought her finger to her lips.

The taste was unexpected—salty, slightly bitter—but it sent a shudder through her, her body reacting instinctively. Her cheeks flushed a deeper red as she licked her lips, the unfamiliar sensation heightening the arousal already simmering within her. The intimacy of the act, the knowledge that it came from you, made her heartbeat quicken.

Minjeong glanced up at you, her eyes dark with unspoken emotion, the lingering taste on her lips seeming to ignite something deeper within her. “It’s… different,” she murmured, her voice soft but filled with a quiet, almost shy desire. Yet there was no mistaking the spark in her gaze as she leaned closer, her curiosity and arousal intertwining in a way that left her yearning for more.

“But… what now?” she asked, her voice small and uncertain. “Does it… does it take a long time to… I don’t know… come back?”

A gentle smile spread across your face as you reached for the edge of the blanket, wiping yourself clean, your gaze warm and understanding. “No, not as long as you’d think,” you replied softly. “Just give me a minute… trust me, with the way I’m feeling right now? It won’t take long.”

Minjeong’s cheeks flushed as she felt the tension still pulsing between them, an intensity that hadn’t faded but had only grown stronger. Though her body had already released once, it was still alive with a hum of anticipation, craving more of the closeness that had only begun to reveal itself. Her skin felt sensitive, every inch of her alive and awake, and the desire that lingered between you both seemed almost endless.

As you pulled her close, your breath warm against her ear, your voice dropped to a low, intimate whisper. “The desire… it’s unbearable, isn’t it? We’ve held it back for so long… now that it’s free, it’s hard to stop.”

She nodded, her own breath catching as she leaned into you, feeling the heat radiating from your body. “I didn’t think it would be like this,” she whispered, her voice soft and filled with wonder. “It’s like… I can’t get enough.”

Your hands drifted down her back, fingers tracing slow, delicate paths that sent tingles down her spine, igniting her senses further. With deliberate care, you reached for the clasp of her bra, unhooking it and sliding the straps down her arms, exposing her to your gaze. She shivered under your touch, the anticipation in her eyes mirrored by the rising heat between you. Gently, you guided her panties down her hips, leaving her completely bare before you.

You leaned in, pressing soft, lingering kisses to her neck, shoulders, and collarbone, each one drawing a soft gasp from her lips. Your mouth trailed lower, worshipping her with every kiss as you explored her body, your lips brushing against her chest, stomach, and hips. The warmth of your touch and the intimacy of your kisses set her skin ablaze, her body trembling beneath you as your affection deepened the connection between you.

She could feel you stirring beneath her, your body responding just as eagerly, recovering quickly and pressing against her with a palpable urgency. Her heart raced, her pulse quickening as she realized just how deeply this hunger ran—not fading, but growing, expanding with each heartbeat, filling every part of her with a yearning she hadn’t known was possible.

Her voice barely a whisper, she looked up at you, her cheeks flushed with desire. “I… I want to do it again.”

A flicker of something intense crossed your gaze, desire deepening in your eyes as her words sank in. You leaned in close, your fingers trailing down her stomach with a deliberate slowness, and her body reacted to your touch as if it had been waiting for it all along, each caress building a tension that left her breathless. “Me too,” you replied, your voice thick with emotion. “We can take our time… explore every part of this together.”

Minjeong felt her pulse quicken as your hand drifted lower, each touch more confident, and yet filled with care. There was no rush this time—each movement, each gentle caress felt purposeful, as though you were savoring every moment. Her breath hitched as your fingers found her center, brushing over her with a tenderness that set her body alight. She could feel her hips lifting involuntarily, craving more of your touch, her body arching toward you, completely attuned to the rhythm you were setting.

But you held back, your movements measured, each stroke a deliberate invitation to surrender. Minjeong’s hands gripped the sheets, her fingers twisting in them as she fought to keep some sense of control, but every motion of your hand sent ripples of pleasure coursing through her, slowly eroding any restraint she had left. Her mind was hazy, her thoughts blurred as she gave in to the sensations, letting herself feel every spark, every touch.

Your voice, soft and steady, cut through the haze, anchoring her. “I’ll follow what the book says,” you murmured, your tone reassuring yet filled with quiet excitement. “But you can tell me if anything feels too intense… we can go as slow as you want.”

She met your gaze, her eyes filled with trust and anticipation, nodding as her voice caught in her throat. She watched as you reached for the book—the one you’d written, your meticulous research woven into its pages—flipping to a section that you both had studied countless times. Back then, the words were abstract, a roadmap for a journey neither of you had truly embarked on. Now, they felt vivid, alive, as you stood on the edge of turning theory into reality.

Your voice was steady but tinged with wonder as you read aloud, revisiting the descriptions of intimacy that had once seemed so clinical. “This part,” you murmured, “it’s about connection—real, physical connection. It says to feel, not just to touch. To be present in every moment.”

You set the book down beside you, your hands trembling slightly as they moved to her skin. Following your own written guidance, you traced a line down her arm, feeling the softness of her flesh, your touch lingering. “Even after all my research,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper, “I never understood how different this would feel. How real.”

Minjeong shivered at your words, her lips parting as your fingers brushed her thigh, gliding lower to gently spread her legs. Her breath hitched, her body already responding to the unspoken promise in your touch. “It says to let the connection build naturally,” you continued, your tone soft yet deliberate. “No rushing, no hesitation… just us.”

Your hand slid between her folds, your fingers moving slowly, reverently, as if committing every detail to memory. Her hips bucked instinctively against your touch, and the sound of her soft moan filled the room. The book’s instructions felt distant now, a framework that was giving way to something far more instinctual, far more profound.

As you continued to explore, positioning yourself over her, you kept your gaze on her, your eyes holding a mixture of tenderness and longing. “According to this,” you murmured, your voice soft and steady, “I’m supposed to… enter you slowly. We can take it at your pace… but once we both reach our climax… I’m meant to stay inside, to hold that connection.”

Her heart pounded, but she nodded eagerly, the words barely leaving her lips as she whispered, “I want that… I want to feel it all.”

With a careful, gentle movement, you positioned your shaft and slowly entered her. The both of you stilled, caught in the shared intensity of the sensation. A rush of warmth spread between you, each of you feeling the other in a way that was beyond description.

Minjeong’s hands found your back, her fingers pressing into your skin as she closed her eyes, losing herself in the overwhelming sensations that pulsed through her. It felt as though her entire being had awakened, each nerve attuned to the rhythm you created together.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she almost missed your voice breaking the quiet.

“So, apparently,” you began, glancing down at the book with a look of intrigued curiosity, “if two people share an emotional connection, every touch, every sensation can deepen the experience. It says to explore, to learn each other’s bodies, to let it build naturally.”

Her breath hitched as your words settled in the space between you, her body already trembling beneath yours as you began to move again. The slow, deliberate rhythm of your thrusts made every nerve in her body feel alive, each motion sending waves of pleasure radiating through her. She met your gaze, her vulnerability mirrored in the unspoken trust you shared.

You leaned closer, trailing soft, deliberate kisses along her neck, letting your lips linger on her skin. She shivered at the warmth of your mouth, your movements in sync with the rhythm of your hips. Her breath hitched again as you moved lower, your lips brushing against the sensitive curve of her collarbone before descending to her chest. Her body trembled as you kissed her nipples, your tongue flicking over the sensitive peak before your lips wrapped around it.

The sensation was overwhelming, an electric jolt that combined with the fullness of you inside her, making her arch instinctively beneath you. When you began to suck gently, a soft, breathy moan escaped her lips, her hands clutching at the sheets as the intensity of the moment consumed her. Each thrust seemed to amplify the pleasure, the combined sensations creating a crescendo of raw emotion and physical connection.

Her mind raced, her heart pounding as waves of pleasure built steadily within her, each one more powerful than the last. Every pull of your lips, every flick of your tongue, every deliberate movement of your body within hers heightened the connection between you, making her feel more vulnerable and alive than she ever thought possible.

She arched into you, her body moving instinctively in time with yours, her breathing growing shallow and uneven. “This,” she murmured, her voice trembling with emotion, “it’s so much more than I ever thought it could be.” Her words were punctuated by gasps and soft cries, her body surrendering completely to the rhythm you shared.

Each touch, each calculated movement between you was designed to bring you both closer to that edge, but neither of you rushed.

Minjeong felt lost, spinning in the sensations as you guided her towards a second climax, your every touch bringing her closer to that peak once more.

“I’m close again,” Minjeong whispered, her voice trembling, her body tensing in anticipation. “I can feel it…”

“Me too,” you murmured, your voice thick with desire. Your hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer as you moved with her, your breath hot against her skin. “Let’s do it together.”

Your bodies moved in perfect rhythm, your pace quickening as the tension built between you, an energy so intense that Minjeong felt it vibrating through her very core. Her breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps as her hands gripped your shoulders, feeling the second wave building within her, ready to crest.

The pressure was unbearable, the heat flooding through her body as you moved together, faster, harder, each movement pushing her closer to the edge.

“Now,” you whispered, your voice tight with urgency, as if holding back any longer was impossible. “Now, Minjeong.”

Minjeong’s body surrendered completely, her second orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. The sensation was all-consuming, rippling through her in waves that seemed to touch every nerve, every hidden corner of her being.

Her back arched sharply, her head tipping back as her mouth parted in a breathless, almost desperate gasp. The pleasure was unlike anything she had ever known—raw, overwhelming, and deeply intimate.

Her legs wrapped tightly around you, instinctively pulling you closer, as if anchoring herself to you in the midst of her climax. The intensity of the moment only heightened as her inner walls clenched rhythmically around you, pulsing in time with her racing heartbeat.

Each contraction was powerful, drawing you deeper, her body gripping you with an unrelenting tightness that seemed to plead for more, to keep you there, locked in this moment of shared ecstasy.

She felt the warmth of your release flooding her, a sensation that sent an unexpected jolt through her body. It was an unfamiliar but exhilarating feeling, the heat spreading within her and amplifying her pleasure to a level she hadn’t thought possible. It was raw, primal, and so deeply intimate that it made her tremble in your arms, her body shuddering as she rode out the waves of her orgasm.

For you, the feeling was equally overwhelming. Her inner walls milked you with a desperate, almost unrelenting rhythm, each squeeze sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. It felt as though her body was drawing out every drop, holding you tightly in a way that made it impossible to hold back. A deep, guttural moan tore from your lips as you gave in completely, the force of your release leaving you trembling.

Each pulse of your release was matched by her contractions, the two of you locked in a perfect, instinctual rhythm. Her warmth surrounded you, heightening the intensity of your climax, every squeeze of her body dragging out the pleasure, making it feel endless. The connection between you was palpable, an unspoken understanding communicated in every motion, every sound, every shared breath.

Minjeong’s cries blended with your own, the room filled with the raw, unfiltered sounds of pleasure. As your climax subsided, the echoes of her soft moans and trembling gasps remained, lingering in the air. You stayed buried within her, her legs still wrapped around you, her arms pulling you close as if she couldn’t bear to let go.

Both of you were left breathless, trembling, and utterly consumed by the intensity of what you had just shared—a moment that transcended the physical, leaving an indelible mark on both of your hearts.

For a brief, perfect moment, it was as if the entire world had fallen away, leaving only the two of you, entwined and breathless, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of what you had just experienced. The room was filled with the sounds of your mingled breaths, rising and falling together as you clung to each other, feeling the lingering aftershocks of pleasure resonate between you.

Minjeong’s chest rose and fell in sync with yours as she held onto you, her heartbeat slowing as she grounded herself in the warmth and weight of your embrace. The sensation of being so close, so in tune, left her feeling utterly content, yet completely vulnerable.

Each time she felt you shift or tighten your hold, she felt the memory of each pulse, each lingering sensation, flooding her with a gentle warmth, a comfort she hadn’t realized she’d been craving.

Her fingers traced gentle patterns on your back as she lay there, absorbing the reality of what you had shared. She felt every lingering pulse within her, each subtle echo of your release, and the closeness left her feeling both exhilarated and deeply moved. She looked up at you, her eyes soft, a small smile on her lips, still too overwhelmed to find words but hoping you could feel the depth of what this moment meant to her.

You brushed a strand of hair from her face, your gaze filled with a tenderness that matched her own, and pulled her close, holding her as you both soaked in the quiet intimacy. The connection between you was more than either of you had expected—something that reached beyond the physical, beyond what words could express. And for now, the world outside could wait.

After a few moments of silence, you spoke, your voice soft and filled with a wonder that mirrored her own. “That was… more than I ever imagined.”

Minjeong nodded, still too overwhelmed to speak. Her body buzzed with lingering aftershocks of pleasure, her mind racing to comprehend the magnitude of what she’d just experienced. She hadn’t thought it was possible to feel so much, to connect so deeply with another person.

“The book didn’t even come close,” she whispered, her voice trembling as emotions welled up within her. “I didn’t know… it could be like this.”

A gentle smile played on your lips as you brushed a strand of hair from her face, looking at her with a gaze filled with understanding and affection. “Neither did I,” you replied softly. “I can’t believe we went our whole lives without that.”

You lay together in the quiet of the room, still tangled in each other’s embrace, your bodies warm and relaxed as you both reflected on what had just happened. The weight of your decision to remove the patches, the overwhelming intensity of your shared experiences, and the depth of the connection that had formed left both of you in awe. Minjeong realized then, with a clarity that made her heart ache, that she couldn’t go back to the way things were. Not after this.

A warmth stirred within her, different from before—not just curiosity or experimentation, but something deeper, something that felt like an unstoppable need. Her body craved you, not just to explore, but as if she were drawn to you in a way she couldn’t fully explain. The thought of being close to you again, feeling your touch, sent shivers through her entire body.

You noticed her subtle movement, the way she shifted against you, and gently ran your fingers through her hair. “Are you okay?” you asked softly, your voice filled with care and understanding.

Minjeong looked up at you, her heart pounding as her eyes met yours. The connection felt stronger now, more intense, like a current running between you that couldn’t be ignored. “I… I need you again,” she whispered, her voice thick with desire, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Your eyes darkened, a spark of need flashing as you took in her words. Your hand slid down her back, pulling her closer, pressing her body against yours. “Already?” you asked with a faint smile, though your voice betrayed the hunger that mirrored her own.

“I can’t help it,” Minjeong admitted, her cheeks flushing as her body pressed against you, feeling every inch of you against her. “I can’t stop thinking about it… I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Your expression softened as you held her close, sensing the depth of her need and responding with your own. The air thickened between you as you both gave in once more, realizing that the bond you had unlocked wasn’t something that could be silenced or ignored

She felt you stir beside her, your body responding immediately to the heat in her words. The hunger within her sharpened, an intense, primal need that was more than just physical. It was something deeper, something raw and instinctual that seemed to awaken with every heartbeat, urging her closer to you. Her body ached to feel you again, to pull you closer in every way, and the intensity of her need made her breath catch.

Your hands roamed over her body, your touch igniting a fire beneath her skin. The anticipation sent a thrill through her, her pulse racing as she took you in, the desire radiating off both of you like a palpable heat.

“I want to feel you again,” Minjeong whispered, her voice trembling under the weight of her need. “I want you to… to keep going… to keep bre—”

She hesitated, her cheeks flushing, searching for the right words as her eyes met yours. But you seemed to understand without her needing to say it. Your hands gripped her hips, fingers digging into her skin as your gaze locked with hers, filled with both passion and tenderness.

“To keep breeding you?” you murmured, your voice thick with both lust and affection.

Her body reacted instantly, a hot wave of sensation spreading through her at your words. The idea of it—of you filling her again and again, the intimacy of it, the unbreakable connection it represented—was overwhelming. She felt her breath hitch as she nodded, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she leaned down, her lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering touch.

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper. “I want you to breed me… again and again.”

A soft groan escaped your lips at her words, and you adjusted her position, your hands sliding beneath her thighs as you pushed her legs up, resting them on your shoulders. The shift folded her body slightly under your weight, her knees pressed close to her chest as you leaned into her, your body flush against hers. The angle sent a shiver through her as the anticipation built, her heart racing as she felt your hands gripping her hips firmly.

Slowly, you pressed into her, her body stretching to accommodate you, the familiar pressure igniting every nerve in her body. Minjeong gasped, her head falling back against the pillow as the sensation overwhelmed her. The new angle made everything feel more intense—every inch of you seemed to reach deeper, filling her completely in a way that made her toes curl.

Her hands gripped your arms as her hips instinctively rolled forward, meeting your movements as you began to thrust into her, slow and deliberate at first. Each motion sent shockwaves of pleasure through her, her back arching as you leaned further into her, your weight pressing her firmly into the bed.

The pleasure was electrifying, each thrust bringing her closer to the edge, her body trembling beneath you. Her breaths came in short, shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly as your pace quickened. Her body folded under your weight as you leaned forward, driving her deeper into the bed.

Your hands slid up her sides, trembling with urgency, before cupping her face gently, your thumbs brushing over her flushed cheeks. The contrast of your tender touch against the intensity of your movements made her gasp, her soft, breathy moans growing louder as you pressed her further into the mattress.

“Minjeong,” you groaned, your voice thick with need, your gaze locking onto hers. Her flushed cheeks and parted lips only spurred you on, the sight of her beneath you, completely vulnerable and lost in the moment, driving you closer to the brink.

“I’m yours,” she whispered, her voice trembling as her fingers clung to your shoulders, her eyes meeting yours with an intensity that took your breath away. “I’m completely yours.”

Her words ignited something primal in you, and your movements grew faster, deeper, the new angle amplifying the sensation for both of you. Her body tightened around you, her inner walls gripping you with each thrust, milking you for everything you had. The pressure building within her was almost unbearable, her core aching for release as her muscles clenched and fluttered around you.

Overcome by the intimacy of the moment, you leaned down, capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Her soft, eager response heightened everything, her lips moving against yours with a hunger that mirrored the rhythm of your bodies. The warmth of her mouth, the way she gasped into the kiss, made every nerve in your body feel electrified.

As your lips pressed harder against hers, you felt her trembling beneath you, her inner walls clenching tightly around your member in rhythm with every thrust. Each squeeze sent shockwaves through your body, the intensity of her responses drawing you deeper into the shared ecstasy. Her whimpers were muffled by your kiss, and her fingers tangled in your hair, holding you close as if afraid to let go.

The kiss deepened, slow but intense, a perfect counterpoint to the raw, primal connection of your movements. Her cries became softer, breathier, blending with your groans as the sensations built to an almost unbearable level.

The intimacy of the kiss, combined with the feeling of her pulsing around you, brought you both closer to the brink, your bodies and hearts completely in sync as you moved together toward the edge.

“Minjeong… I’m close…” you murmured, your voice strained, your body trembling as you fought to hold back for just a moment longer, wanting to bring her over the edge with you.

“Don’t stop… please don’t stop…” she gasped, her voice breaking as her hands pressed against your chest, her body trembling beneath yours.

As you tried to hold on, your body trembling with the effort of resisting your release, your position unintentionally shifted. Your hips angled slightly as you pressed into her, and suddenly, your length grazed something deep within her that made her entire body jolt violently.

A sharp, high-pitched cry tore from her lips, her eyes flying open in shock and overwhelming pleasure as her nails dug into your arms. Her expression was a mixture of surprise and desperation, her voice trembling as she gasped, “Oh my God—right there!” Her thighs trembled against your shoulders, her whole body arching into you. “Do that again—please, keep doing that!”

Her reaction sent a rush of adrenaline through you, and despite the accidental nature of the movement, you adjusted to repeat it, angling yourself to hit that spot again. Her cries grew louder, her body tightening around you as wave after wave of pleasure overtook her, the intensity of the sensation completely melted her.

Minjeong's cries grew louder, her body arching beneath you as her legs trembled on your shoulders. The intensity of her pleasure was palpable, each thrust drawing a mix of desperate gasps and cries from her as her walls tightened around you even more, gripping you with a rhythm that was almost too much to bear.

Suddenly, with a powerful thrust, she shattered, her orgasm crashing over her with a force so intense it felt as though the entire world had disappeared. The weight of your body pressing her into the mattress, the relentless rhythm of your deep thrusts, the angle perfectly abusing her most sensitive spot—all of it combined into a crescendo of pleasure that overwhelmed her completely.

For a brief, fleeting moment, Minjeong’s mind went utterly blank. The sensations overtook everything else—waves of ecstasy rippling through her as her body convulsed uncontrollably beneath you. Her walls clenched and pulsed around you, milking you desperately, her muscles tightening in a rhythm that seemed to beg for more, even as the overwhelming intensity left her trembling. The warmth of your release filling her, mixing with the previous flood, heightened everything, the feeling of fullness amplifying every pulse, every flutter of her core.

Her body shook violently, her hands clutching at you for grounding as tears welled up in her eyes. A broken sob escaped her lips, her voice trembling as she gasped for air, completely overcome. Her hair was a wild mess, clinging to her damp, flushed face, and her cheeks were streaked with tears she didn’t even realize she was shedding.

Each thrust, each contraction, sent her spiraling further into a blissful haze until her body could only quiver under you, her mind and body utterly consumed by the raw, primal connection.

Finally, her cries softened into breathless whimpers as her climax began to wane, leaving her trembling and spent. You slowed your movements, carefully easing her legs down from your shoulders, and leaned into her, wrapping your arms around her trembling body. She clung to you instinctively, her face buried against your chest as she shuddered uncontrollably, her body still quivering from the aftershocks of her release.

“It’s okay,” you murmured softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead as you held her close. Your hands stroked her back in soothing motions, trying to ground her as she came down from the overwhelming high. Her breaths were uneven, and you could feel her trembling against you, her body still wracked with small, involuntary shakes.

Minjeong’s fingers gripped your shoulders tightly as if anchoring herself, her voice trembling as she whispered, “That was… that was so much… I’ve never… I didn’t know I could feel like that.”

You hugged her closer, cradling her against your chest as she melted into your embrace, her trembling gradually easing under your touch. The room was quiet except for the sound of your shared breaths, the intensity of the moment lingering between you. As you held her, her quivers became softer, her body finding solace in your warmth, the bond between you deepened by the raw, unfiltered intimacy of the moment.

For a long moment, you stayed like that, tangled in each other’s arms, your bodies still humming from the intensity of what you had just experienced. Her heart raced in time with yours, her mind spinning as she held onto you, feeling as though nothing else existed but the two of you.

As the aftershocks of their shared pleasure began to fade, Minjeong lifted her head, her eyes meeting yours. The connection between you was undeniable now—deeper and more intense than anything she had ever imagined. It wasn’t just about the physical closeness anymore; it was the way you looked at each other, the way your bodies moved in perfect rhythm, the way her heart seemed to beat in time with yours. She could feel that you were a part of her now, in a way that made her feel both vulnerable and fiercely protective.

You smiled softly, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. “That… was even better than the first time.”

Minjeong nodded, her body still buzzing in the blissful afterglow. “I didn’t think it was possible to feel this way,” she murmured, a dreamy smile playing on her lips.

“It’s like we’re rediscovering it all over again,” you replied, your voice filled with wonder. “Every time.”

Her heart swelled, a warmth blooming within her that went beyond the physical. She looked up, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, the sincerity of her emotions bringing a slight tremor to her voice. “I think I’m falling for you,” she whispered, her words laced with a vulnerability she hadn’t shown before.

Your gaze softened, and your hand cupped her face, pulling her closer. “I’ve been falling for you this whole time,” you whispered back, your lips brushing over hers in a tender, lingering kiss that sent a shiver down her spine.

You lay together, tangled in each other’s arms, basking in the warmth of each other’s presence. The quiet moments that followed were thick with understanding, an unspoken connection that now simmered between you both.

Each touch, each kiss felt like a rediscovery of something sacred, something you had both been yearning for without knowing. Minjeong could feel the bond between you growing deeper, a realization that filled her with a comforting sense of security, yet also stirred something unsettling within her.

After a long silence, with her head still resting against your chest and her fingers tracing soft patterns on your skin, reality began to creep back into her thoughts. She thought about the future—the knowledge you had uncovered together, and what you would do next. What you had discovered was too profound, too life-changing to keep hidden. She lifted her head, meeting your gaze with a determined look.

“We need to tell people,” she murmured, her voice carrying the weight of the revelation. “We can’t keep this to ourselves. Others deserve to feel what we’ve felt.”

You listened, though a shadow crossed your face, your hand stilling as you gently traced her back. “I know… but who do we tell? And how? Most people… they won’t understand. They’ll think we’re out of our minds.”

Sitting up slightly, Her mind drifted to the three other girls she held closest to her heart “Maybe… we start with people close to us. People we trust. Maybe I could tell my friends.”

Your expression remained serious as you considered the idea. “Your friends? The ones who thought the book was just some weird obsession?”

A hint of uncertainty entered her voice, but she pushed on. “Yes. I mean, they laughed it off, but they’re like family to me. They’ve been my closest friends for years. I love them… and maybe, if I explain it to them, they’ll understand. And who knows? Maybe they’ll want to experience it too.”

At first, the idea of sharing this discovery with her friends was thrilling to Minjeong. Karina, Giselle, and Ningning were her closest friends; they had been by her side through everything. If they could experience the depth of what she’d felt with you, maybe it could change their lives, too. But the more she thought about it, the more her excitement twisted into something else.

The thought of them with you—of any of them touching you, experiencing your closeness, seeing the look in your eyes that had been meant for her—left a sour, unsettled feeling in her chest. She imagined your hands on them, imagined you laughing with them, and it made her stomach clench with a sharp pang of jealousy she hadn’t anticipated.

Her heart pounded, and she felt a fierce possessiveness rising within her. This was different; what you shared was hers. The mere image of anyone else sharing in the same closeness made her skin prickle. She shifted, tightening her hold on you almost instinctively, her fingers curling against your chest as she tried to suppress the surge of emotions.

“Actually… maybe not,” she muttered, almost to herself, her voice tinged with uncertainty as she gazed up at you.

You raised an eyebrow, catching the sudden shift in her tone. “What happened to wanting to tell everyone? Didn’t you say you wanted to help people feel what we’ve felt?”

She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I do,” she stammered, glancing away. “I just… I don’t think they’d get it—not yet. And maybe not them.”

You chuckled softly, amused by her possessiveness, your eyes glinting with teasing curiosity. “Oh, so now you don’t want to tell them?” you asked, a smile playing on your lips. “Weren’t they your ‘closest friends’ a second ago?”

Her face grew warmer, and she huffed, shifting uncomfortably as she avoided your gaze. “It’s just… they didn’t understand the book at all,” she muttered, her voice quieter now. “And besides, I… I don’t want—”

You tilted your head, still smiling as your fingers traced gentle patterns along her back. “You don’t want what?” you asked, your tone soft but teasing. “You don’t want them to know about me?”

A small, frustrated sound escaped her as she buried her face against your chest, mumbling, “I don’t want them to… try anything.”

You chuckled, finding her protectiveness endearing. “So you don’t want anyone else getting too close?” you teased gently, your fingers brushing through her hair.

“It’s not funny,” she grumbled, her cheeks hot as she sulked against you. She sighed, glancing up at you, her voice laced with worry. “What if they’re curious? What if they want to know what it’s like with you?”

The laughter rumbled softly in your chest, and you wrapped your arms around her, holding her close. “Minjeong, you’re overthinking this,” you murmured, stroking her hair. “They don’t need to experience it with me specifically.”

But her mind couldn’t let go. She imagined them asking you questions, seeking the same closeness that had been so deeply personal to her. Her pout deepened as she looked up, her voice quiet but insistent. “But… what if they wanted to try it? What if they wanted you?”

Seeing the worry in her eyes, your expression softened. You brushed a strand of hair from her face, letting your hand linger on her cheek as you held her gaze. “They’re not you,” you said simply, your voice steady and sincere. “What we have… it’s special. No one else can have that.”

Minjeong felt her heart flutter at your words, but a part of her still sulked, her brow furrowing as she clung to you a little tighter. “I just don’t want to share you,” she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not with anyone.”

You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, and your voice was warm as you spoke. “You don’t have to. I only want you, Minjeong. You’re the only one I want.”

She let out a soft sigh, nestling closer against you, her tension easing slightly. “But what if they do get curious?” she murmured, almost to herself, her voice filled with a hint of lingering protectiveness. “I know how they are… they always want to try things they don’t understand.”

You chuckled again, finding her jealousy both adorable and sincere. “Minjeong, I promise no one’s going to get between us. If they want to know what we’ve found, we’ll explain it together. But you’re the only one I want to share it with like this.”

She looked up at you, a pout still lingering on her lips, though her eyes softened. “You’re sure?” she asked, her tone almost childlike, her fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. “Because I don’t want you to change your mind later… I don’t think I could handle it.”

You gently cupped her face, looking at her with steady, genuine warmth. “I’m sure,” you whispered, your voice sincere as you met her gaze. “Minjeong, I don’t want anyone else. What we have is ours. No one else can even come close.”

A small smile began to spread across her face, and she felt her possessiveness slowly fading, replaced by a warmth that made her cheeks flush. “Okay,” she murmured, though a hint of playfulness glinted in her eyes. “But just so you know, if they do try anything, I’m not sharing.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Good to know. But trust me, they’re not going to get the chance.” You pulled her closer, your arms wrapping securely around her, reassuring her with the warmth of your touch. “Besides, I think it’s kind of cute how protective you are.”

She grumbled, rolling her eyes, though she couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at her lips. “Well, you better get used to it,” she muttered, snuggling deeper into your embrace. “Because I’m not going anywhere. And I don’t plan on letting anyone else get anywhere near you.”

A laugh escaped you, and you leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “That’s perfectly fine with me,” you murmured. “I’d be happy with just you by my side.”

Finally feeling at ease, Minjeong let herself melt against you, feeling a bit silly for her jealousy but incredibly reassured by your words. The tension and uncertainty that had simmered beneath her feelings now softened, melting away as she realized the depth of what you had both discovered. It was something so much bigger than either of you alone—something that the world had long forgotten.

The patch was supposed to protect humanity from its own vulnerabilities, to mute the wild unpredictability of desire, of connection. It had promised a life of control and purpose, of efficiency and calm. But in shutting out the power of feeling, it had left behind a vast emptiness, a numbness that had become so normalized that no one had even realized what they were missing.

But now, she understood the beauty of that vulnerability, the fire of human connection that couldn’t be controlled or contained. Every touch, every shared breath, every heartbeat reminded her that being human wasn’t something to manage or tame. It was messy and consuming, unpredictable and deeply, deeply real. It was finding peace in another’s arms, feeling the thrill of closeness, and, yes, even feeling possessive and protective of the person she wanted most.

Minjeong looked up at you, her gaze warm but serious. “I don’t think I could ever go back to the way things were. Not now that I know what it’s like… to feel everything so deeply. To be connected to you like this.” Her voice was soft but steady, filled with a quiet determination. “It’s like I’m finally… alive.”

You held her closer, your expression filled with a tenderness that needed no words. “I feel the same,” you whispered. “I don’t want to go back either. And maybe we don’t have to. Maybe we can be the ones who bring back what everyone’s lost. Show people what it really means to be human.”

In the quiet warmth of the room, as you both held each other, Minjeong felt the weight of that purpose settle into her heart. What had begun as a curiosity, a glimpse into forgotten history, had turned into something so profound, something that connected her to the core of her own humanity. It wasn’t just love she felt—it was a fierce commitment to the truth you had uncovered together.

“We’ll start slowly,” she murmured, her voice calm but filled with conviction. “One step at a time. Maybe people will be afraid, maybe they won’t understand… but we’ll show them. We’ll show them what we’ve found.”

You nodded, and your hand found hers, fingers intertwining as a silent promise. “Together,” you said, your voice steady.

As the night deepened, the two of you lay there, wrapped in the knowledge that the connection you shared was precious, rare, and undeniably real. It was the beginning of something new, something powerful. And as Minjeong drifted off in your arms, she knew that whatever lay ahead, you would face it side by side, carrying the flame of a rediscovered humanity—one that pulsed with raw, unfiltered feeling and a love that no patch could ever silence.

You had both rediscovered what it meant to be human, and together, you would awaken a world that had forgotten.

[sluttywoozi]

(Boy)Friend Material | Part II | csc x f!reader

Part I

Seungcheol really thought that, having met you on a dating app, you'd be more into, well, dating him. He supposes he should have made sure you knew that's what he thought you were doing.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~9.2k | Pairing: csc x f!reader | Genre: romance, smut

Warnings: elevator makeouts, minor safe sex discussion, lil tiny mention of birth control making reader depressed, restraining, oral f. rec., vaginal fingering, squirting, sex with a condom, crying during sex

Reader Notes: referred to with she/her pronouns, has two cats, has breasts and a vagina, gets carried by cheol, wap

Seungcheol is still fucking floored that he’s been dating you without your knowledge for four months. 

All this time, he’s feared that you weren’t as into him as he was into you. What else was he supposed to think when he was constantly the one reaching out? He was the one making the dates, and inviting you to hangouts with his friends, and asking if he could come over and spend time with you. 

He tried not to mind that it was always him hugging you, him wanting to hold your hand, him touching you in all the little ways people in relationships do. He told himself that he just hadn’t discovered your love language yet, and that once he did, things would change. 

Honestly, if you were anyone else, he probably wouldn’t have stuck it out so long. He was willing and able to because you’re you, and he likes you so damn much. 

You got his attention effortlessly with your opener, and the way you committed to the bit instead of backing down or changing the subject kept him interested. Then when he met you, you were somehow even funnier and prettier in person, and he was fucking enchanted. As soon as you parted ways, he was trying to figure out how he could see you again, dreaming up different scenarios and cycling through ideas until finally, he just asked. You said yes, so he kept asking. 

And now here he sits on your couch (where he can be found most Sundays), playing with your cats and listening to your musings as you pack your weekend bag. He doubts you think he can hear you or you probably wouldn’t be asking yourself, “Comfy or sexy?” out loud. He’s not sure which you pick but he’s kind of hoping for comfy because that’s always been sexy to him, the surety that you’re comfortable around him and cozy as can be. 

It’s been a while since his last relationship and he’s not a serial dater like some of his friends, so he was a bit out of practice when he met you. Still, he counted himself lucky that you grew to be so comfortable around him after only a few weeks, though now he knows it’s because you thought he was just your friend. 

He regrets that it took him thinking you wanted to break up to finally be honest about feeling like the relationship was one sided, because everything could have been resolved so long ago. 

All the times he’s thought about kissing you, he could have. Every morning that he’s surprised you with your favorite iced latte, every flower garden that he’s ever brought you to, every movie night that he’s looked over at you and watched the colors dance across your face in the darkness. He could have been kissing you for months, and you could have been kissing him back. 

He mourns the lost time, but part of him can’t be upset this miscommunication happened because it’s made him move with purpose. He’s constantly thinking of you, always trying to be what you need, and he honestly isn’t sure he would know you this well if he didn’t feel like he had to prove himself worthy. 

It’s not like he’s going to stop trying to prove himself now, but it helps to be reassured that your withholding nature wasn’t because he likes you more than you like him, it was because you didn’t know he likes you at all. 

He feels so juvenile talking in terms of like, but he’s a little scared to introduce love to the equation. He could so easily define his feelings for you in that way, but it’s been four months of dating you without you dating him back, and he’s reluctant to take that leap without being sure you’ll take it with him. 

After he bore his soul to you, though, you said all of those things, told him that you don’t ever want to let him go, which sounds a whole lot like a love confession just minus the actual word…

Bluebell paws at his hand, asking for attention, and he grants it, trying to shake off worries that don’t hold weight anymore. Poppy sprawls against his thigh, purring so loud he can feel the vibrations.

This has been enough, he tells himself. Count yourself lucky that it’ll get even better now that she can knowingly participate in the relationship. 

“Ready,” you say in a sing-song voice as you struggle through the door to your bedroom, your shoulder laden down with a duffle and your hand holding your giant water bottle…cup…thing. You’re wearing your favorite lounge set, one he’s seen countless times, but the way the soft fabric clings to the curves of your body still makes his heart pound. 

He rises quickly to greet you, sending Poppy skittering off the couch. She darts over to you, yowling as if he committed a mortal sin, and you pout indulgently at her, asking, “Did the big man scare you? Poor baby.”

He doesn’t mind the teasing, especially when you call him big in the process. 

Before he gets too wrapped up in staring at you, he strides over, carefully taking hold of the strap on your shoulder and lifting until you slide your arm through so he can shoulder the duffle instead. 

“Wanna get a refill before we go? I know you like your water more than mine,” he offers, continuing to say (because you’re so fucking cute when you’re adamant about something), “Even though it tastes the same.”

“It does not taste the same! My water is better and more refreshing!” You claim instantly, walking across the living room to your kitchenette.

“Maybe that’s because I’ve changed your water filter twice since I met you even though it only needs to be changed twice a year.”

“Maybe so, but you’ll change it a third time for our six month anniversary and you’ll do it with a smile on your face,” you playfully command him as you fill your monstrous water container. 

Six month anniversary. So you really do want to keep him around.

“Yeah, baby, I will,” he sighs, hoping you can’t tell that your little light-hearted threat has him feeling like he could drown, he’s so awash in adoration for you. 

“You’ve never called me baby before,” you gasp gleefully, spinning to face him with bright eyes and a wide smile. 

“I didn’t know if you’d like it,” he shrugs, a bit sheepish that it’s taken him this long to test it out. 

“I love it, baby is my name now,” you tell him, screwing the top back onto your water and sounding so serious, it’s almost comical.

You grasp your cup, holding your free hand out to him for what might be the first time. His heart skips a beat as he takes it, intertwining his fingers with yours and following you to your door. 

“Bye Bell, bye Poppy, I love you,” you call out, looking over your shoulder to find your cats already asleep in their favorite spots on your mushroom and flower cat tree. He whispers his own goodbye and closes the door gently, pressing the button and turning the lock until it clicks. 

Immediately, you’re tugging him down the hall and towards the elevator, a chuckle escaping him at the sound of your bubbly laughter and quick footsteps. 

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go,” you press the button and chant at the machine, bouncing in place beside him. 

“Excited?” He teases, amused by your lack of patience. 

Your head turns at the speed of light as you look at him with wide eyes and ask, “Aren’t you?” 

He would be sarcastic but it sounds like your heart is primed to break, and he can’t risk hurting you just for a joke. 

“More than I can say,” he answers honestly, expecting your smile but not the way you hustle him into the elevator and back him up against the wall, wrapping your arm around his neck and looking away only to press the ground floor button. 

“You gonna kiss me or not?” He murmurs, his eyes already on your lips as you get close enough for him to feel your chest against his. 

You answer without words, your perfect lips soft and unyielding, his hand dropping to your hip to tug you into his body as your fingernails scratch at the short hair on the nape of his neck. The feeling sends a shiver down his spine and drags a sigh out of his mouth, one that you swallow with a needy gasp. 

He lowers your duffle to the floor, stepping forward until he’s got you against the wall and sliding his thigh between your legs to see what other sounds he can summon from you as his passion starts to overflow. His lips move against yours insistently, a fire lighting up in his veins when you wilt into him and let him take control, the transfer of power mouthwateringly sweet. 

And then you pull away. You pull away and he tries to chase you but you stop him with a hand on his chest, and he won’t push you, he would never push you. 

“Everything okay?” He pants, trying to clear his mind of the thoughts and images of you that fill it. 

“Yeah, it’s just- we’re here,” you whisper, blinking at him and glancing over at the elevator doors. 

The open elevator doors. 

The lobby is empty, but if Seungcheol is being truthful, he thinks he wouldn’t really care if people did see. 

You’re his girlfriend, and he’s your boyfriend. What’s so wrong with it?

Then again, part of him does want to keep you all to himself, kissing in elevators included. Which is why he’s quick to step away from you and take your hand again, grabbing the duffle before pulling you through the lobby and to his car. 

He’s not in such a rush that he won’t still open your door for you, waiting as you get in and gently shutting the door before tucking your bag in the backseat and jogging around to the driver’s side. He closes his door quietly even in his haste, not wanting to startle you or make you think he’s upset in any way.

His hand finds your thigh again after starting the car up and getting on the road, the silence that fills the space anticipatory instead of stifling like it was just an hour ago. He finds himself clenching his jaw and bouncing his left knee, counting down the traffic lights that sit between your place and his until finally, there’s only one left. 

It’s red when he rolls to a stop, and his heart is thumping so hard in his chest that he swears if he looked down, he’d be able to see it beating. He glances over at you and finds you already staring at him, which has happened more than a few times in the months that he’s known you. This time is different, though, because you don’t pretend you weren’t looking, or start rambling nervously, or even look away. 

You just meet his gaze and let him see everything. Your nerves, your desire, your impatience, he sees it all, and feels it all himself. For perhaps the first time since he met you, he knows for certain that you and him are on the exact same wavelength. 

He’s so entranced that he doesn’t notice the light turn green until the car behind him honks, and that disturbance is still barely enough to make him tear his gaze from yours. His eyes reluctantly return to the road as he gives your thigh a gentle squeeze and presses the gas pedal, closing the distance between the light and his parking garage as quickly as the speed limit allows. 

A long minute passes and he’s pulling into his designated parking spot, his seatbelt unbuckled and his door open before the car is even off. Sometimes, you’re distracted and he gets to open your door for you, but this isn’t one of those times. You’re out just as fast as him, meeting him at the trunk and taking his hand. 

Together, you speed walk to the door that opens into his hallway. You pass through first and then he does, your pace getting faster the closer you get to his place until finally, finally, he’s unlocking the door and beckoning you inside. He pauses to slip his sneakers off at the rack and you follow suit, the sight of your shoes next to his lighting up the part of his brain that craves domesticity with you. 

You don’t come over as often as he goes to your place so when you slow, he takes the lead, his hand still holding yours tightly and his heart still racing. 

He doesn’t quite mean to press you up against the wall but he takes a step forward as you take a step back and then it’s just too easy to lean in and taste you again, your lips supple and your sigh sweet. 

The kiss starts off slow, tame, but it’s not long before he’s inching closer and sucking at your bottom lip, his tongue gliding along yours when you open your mouth and let him in. You’re so warm and soft against him, your breasts flush with his chest and his dick starting to throb against your stomach, the combination of sensations making his head spin. 

It seems he can’t get enough of you now after what feels like millions of missed opportunities, millions of times he’s wanted his lips on yours and his hands on your body. He’s lost in you before he knows it, near mindless with desperation and devotion, his hunger for you so overwhelming that he fears no amount of you will ever be enough. 

It’s never been like this before, nobody else has ever made him feel as if he would suffocate without their air or perish without their touch, but here he is, kissing you like you’re breathing pure oxygen and gripping your hips like he’ll fade into nothingness if he lets go. 

He knew you were special to him but he didn’t know he would need you like this, and the realization is enough to make him pull back, saying through sharp breaths, “Maybe we should slow down, I don’t want you to feel like we have to rush.”

You gaze at him, almost through him, and say, with great care, “Seungcheol, I’ve wanted your dick inside me since we met. If you want to slow down, we can, but if I had it my way, we’d be moving even faster.”

And fuck if that isn’t enough to spur him into action, to make his cock twitch in his jeans and his hands fly to your waist, a rough, “Jump,” escaping his swollen lips. 

You gasp but wrap your legs around him when he starts to lift you, his grip shifting to your thighs as you vine your arms around his neck, seemingly holding on for dear life. He’d die before dropping you so you have nothing to worry about, but he’s too focused on getting you to his bed to inform you of that fact. He also maybe likes feeling you cling to him like this too much to give you any reason to stop. 

“We need a condom, right?” He checks as he walks, fairly certain the answer will be yes. 

Jeonghan bought him a box when he first started seeing you, the exact size he needs and brand he likes, and handed them over with a wink and a wiggle of his eyebrows. Seungcheol rolled his eyes at the time, but he’s thankful for him now because he never would have bought them himself, too fearful of jinxing the situation. 

“Yeah, I stopped my birth control, it was making me hella depressed. Is that- I mean, are you okay with using one?” You ask, though you absolutely don’t need to. 

“Baby, all I care about is making you feel safe. I’ll wear a condom, I’ll pull out, I’ll do whatever you want.”

“You’re the best boyfriend,” you sigh, hugging him tightly and pressing a kiss to his cheek as he crosses through the doorway to his bedroom.

He left it relatively clean, thankfully, and there’s nothing embarrassing out, unless he counts the picture of him and you that he got framed last month to keep on his nightstand. You see it when he carefully deposits you onto your back on the mattress, your face twisting up like you might cry. 

He’s alarmed until you say, “I have that photo framed on my nightstand.”

The fact that you have one is enough to make him smile but the fact that you picked the same picture is enough to make him fucking beam, his lips stretched too wide to kiss you even though he really wants to. 

He tries anyway, his smile fading as he braces a hand next to your head and presses his mouth to yours, climbing up on the bed when you grip his shirt and start to pull him. He’s imagined this so many times, pictured you under him and on top of him and in front of him (face down, ass up as he slides inside of you). 

He’s made himself cum to the thought of you in this bed, and now that he has you here, he almost doesn’t know where to start. You seem to have your own ideas and desires though, and he’d give anything to find out what they are. 

So, like Seungcheol always has, he just asks. 

“You said you’ve wanted me since we met… What have you thought about?” His voice is ragged when he speaks, deep, but he thinks you like it, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip before your breath leaves you in a sigh. 

“Lots of things,” you whisper, your hands skimming down his chest until they find the hem of his shirt and start to push it up. He sits back on his knees between your legs and hauls it off, fighting a smirk at the way your eyes grow hazy.

You hesitate to put your hands on him, so he takes one of them in his own and presses your palm to his stomach, his muscles jumping at your warm, gentle touch. 

“Like what?” 

“Like… how big you probably are. If you’d be soft and sweet or if you’d be a little rough, a little mean.” 

Following your words, he drags your hand down and lets you feel him, his dick hard and pressing into the zipper of his jeans. You can’t cover all of it, but you close your fingers around the shaft as best you can and rub firmly, one, two, three times. 

“Fuck,” he sighs as you squeeze, the pressure making his eyelids flutter as pleasure sparks within him. “Which do you want more? Soft and sweet or rough and mean? I can be whatever you want.”

“You’re already all I want you to be, Cheol, so just be you.”

God, you’re going to be the end of him. Death by swollen heart.

“A bit of both it is then,” he murmurs as he leans down to kiss you, shifting his grip to your wrist before pushing your hand up to rest beside your head. He does the same with your other hand, leaving you unable to move your upper body. 

He’s about to break away to check in, but you melt into the bed and wrap your legs around his waist, tugging his hips into yours with a soft moan. 

The sound sends a lick of heat down his spine, his dick pulsing in time with his heart and so hard, it almost hurts. He breathes a shuddering sigh into your mouth and grinds into you, wishing his jeans could magically disappear so he wouldn’t have to stop kissing you to take them off. 

The denim is getting to be too restrictive though, especially when he’s dying to feel you with no barriers at all. So he tries to pull back, but you whimper into his mouth and hug him closer with your legs, and the only way he can respond to that is by kissing you harder and letting his body press into yours. 

He’s gone for you for a few more minutes, his jeans all but forgotten as you roll your hips against his and sink your teeth into his bottom lip. The slight sting makes him gasp and dig his cock into you in retaliation, his hands tightening around your wrists when you just push back and bite his lip again. 

It feels almost impossible to pull away from you now but he can’t take it anymore, the clothes need to come off, yours in particular. He’s imagined this too often and wanted you for too long to make this a quick, messy, fully-clothed fuck. You deserve better, you deserve everything, and he’s going to do his absolute best to give it to you. 

So he breaks the connection, ignoring the whine that escapes you to pant out, “I’ll kiss you again when we’re naked, promise.”

“Yes, oh my god, take your pants off,” you reply in a rush, your eyes lighting up as you attempt to free your wrists from his hold. He releases you immediately, but he climbs off the bed before you can wrestle his jeans down, his hands finding yours and pulling until you stand with him. With a laugh, he says, “I said ‘when we’re naked,’ baby. That means you, too.”

“Strip me then,” you raise your arms, a challenge in your gaze, and he can do nothing but accept it, tugging your shirt up and off and freezing in place when he sees what you have on under it. 

“Fuck me,” he murmurs, staring at the cherry red lace that encases your breasts. There are delicate little bows on the straps and the lace is so fine that he can see right through it, could probably rip it without even trying. 

“Did you wear this for me?” He asks absentmindedly, his eyes caught on your tits as they rise and fall with your breathing. 

“Yeah, I bought it when we started talking. I thought you’d like it,” you answer softly, tucking your thumbs into the waistband of your lounge pants and pushing them down just enough for him to get a peek of the very same red. “It’s a matching set.”

His knees weak at the thought, he sits heavily on the mattress, setting his hands on your hips and guiding you to stand between his legs. 

“Can I see?” 

“That’s kind of the point,” you whisper like it’s a secret, steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders as he starts to pull your pants down. They slip off easily and pool on the floor, leaving you nearly bare before him and more bewitching than he could have ever imagined. 

“God, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he sighs out, feeling almost dazed as he takes the sight of you in, his thumbs tracing over the bows that sit on the front of your hips. He sinks his fingertips into you, squeezing to feel the give of your flesh and using all of his willpower to stop himself from tearing the lacy panties right off. 

He could (and would) buy you a new set, but you bought this with him in mind, and had to wait so long to wear it for him. It’s too special for him to damage it just because he’s desperate to see you bare. 

You must be able to read his mind, taking your hands off his shoulders to reach behind your back and undo the clasps, the bra loosening on your body before you shrug it down your arms and toss it on the bed. 

Seungcheol finds himself spellbound once again, captivated by all the skin before him, the way your nipples pebble under his gaze making his breath catch in his chest. “Can I touch you?” 

“I feel like I’ll die if you don’t,” you answer immediately, gasping in relief when he smooths his hands up to cover your breasts. He cups them, testing the weight, and squeezes gently, already obsessed with the feeling of your soft, supple skin under his palms. His thumbs drag over your nipples, circling them until you let out a quiet little whimper, one that he would give his life to hear again. 

“Lay down for me, baby,” He requests, needing you spread out before him so he can fully drink you in. 

Forgetting a change in position means he has to stop touching you, he pouts when you step out of his reach, though he’s distracted almost instantly by the cheeky cut of your panties. 

He stands on knees that are still slightly weak, getting out of your way and watching as you climb up on the bed. He tries not to ogle you but your ass looks so fucking biteable from here, and he can’t even let himself focus on the space between your legs because he just might combust if he gets a good look.

You settle on your back in the center of the mattress and he feels his heart squeeze at the sight of you in his bed. He’s wanted you in it for months, and not just for sex, but for cuddling and reading together and falling asleep in each other’s arms, too. So much time has been wasted, but he won’t let it bother him, not when this literally feels like a dream come true. 

He starts moving toward you, trying to formulate a game plan for how he can kiss your stomach and suck one of your nipples at the same time, but you hold a hand out and say, “Stop.”

Every muscle in his body locks up, his heart pounding in anxiety that he’s done something wrong, that you’ve changed your mind about him, that you- 

“Don’t look so worried, Cheollie, I just want you to take your jeans off,” you soothe, making him sigh out his stress and squeeze his eyes shut. 

“Listen to me, Seungcheol. I like you so much that it scares me sometimes. I like you in a way that is concerning to my friends. I like you more than I have ever liked anyone else. My crush on you is deeper than the Mariana Trench,” you say emphatically. “I will tell you this until you believe it.”

Fuck, he feels like he might cry. 

Hearing these words from you is affirming beyond belief, soothing to his very soul, and the steadiness and truth in your voice as you said them is what gives him the courage to admit it. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” he whispers quietly, his eyes still closed. He hears rustling, envisions you making your way to the edge of the bed, and he’s not surprised when he feels your hands take his. 

“I know I’m in love with you,” you whisper back, your fingers intertwined with his and your voice just as sure as before. 

He blinks his eyes open, finds you staring up at him with a teary, affection-soaked gaze, and can’t stop himself from leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. The kiss stays chaste and soft even though your tits are out and he’s harder than he’s ever been in his life, this moment so precious to him, his desire takes the back burner. 

Until you pull back and tell him, “Now take your pants off, please. I’m so fucking wet for you.”

Fuck the back burner, you just lit the stove on fire. He unbuttons his jeans, the fly barely halfway down before he’s shoving them off and stepping out of them, kicking them away like their presence offends him. You didn’t ask him to, but he sheds his boxer briefs as well, feeling his cock pop up and hit his stomach before it hangs heavily between his legs. 

Your eyes grow wide and you open your mouth to say something, but he can’t stop hearing, ‘I’m so fucking wet for you,’ the words seared into his brain forevermore. 

“Let me eat you out?” He practically begs, willing to ask again on his knees if you want him to. 

“I love that you ask, but you don’t need to anymore. Just do what feels right and I’ll stop you if I don’t like it,” you promise, laying back and lifting your ass for him as he slips his fingers into the waistband of your panties and starts to tug them down. 

And shit, they’re soaked, fucking sodden with your arousal, the lace sticking to your pussy as he peels them away. He can feel his mouth water when the scent of you fills his nose, leaving him breathless and near brainless with need for you.

Sinking to his knees, he gently pushes your thighs apart to reveal the prettiest fucking pussy he’s ever seen. Maybe he just thinks that because it’s yours, but that doesn’t really matter when you’re glistening and open and all for him. 

He’s always imagined himself having some amount of finesse when he finally got his tongue between your legs, always pictured going slow and taking you apart piece by piece, or at least pacing himself even a little bit. Now that he’s here, with his hands on your thighs and his face just inches from you, he knows that won’t be the case at all. 

You smell too fucking good for him to hesitate any longer, his tongue darting out and dragging from your opening to your clit. He can’t hold in the groan that leaves him at the first taste of you, his cock twitching as your arousal coats his taste buds, heady and rich and perfect. His eyes flutter closed and he buries his face in your cunt, pushing your thighs up to your stomach so he has more room to work. 

He feels your hands against his, feels them hooking beneath your knees to hold your thighs up for him, and he moans gratefully in response, setting his thumbs on either side of your pussy and pulling your lips apart so he can taste you more directly. 

He dips his tongue into your entrance and you clench around it, the sensation making him whimper into your pussy and delve even deeper inside. Just this might not be enough to get you there but you taste fucking heavenly and feel even better, and he’s wanted his mouth on you like this for months. 

So he allows himself to be selfish for a few minutes, fucking you with his tongue just to feel the way you quiver and squeeze around the muscle. Your arousal starts to leak down his chin and he almost regrets the waste of it, pulling his tongue from your pussy to latch his lips to your opening and suck. 

“Seungcheol, please, I need-,” you implore him, your words halting when he fills you with two of his fingers, the digits sinking inside with a squelch. You whine above him and his gaze travels up your body to find your back arched and your kiss-swollen lips parted, every sound that escapes them like music to his ears. 

Fuck, you’re a goddamn wet dream.

His fingers curl inside of you, exploring until he finds that patch of nerves along your front wall. As soon as he grazes it, you gasp brokenly and buck into his touch, making him bite his lip and return his eyes to your pussy and the way it swallows his fingers. His mouth finds your clit and suctions around it, the little bud firm under his tongue as he flicks it back and forth, following your sounds to find what you like best. 

“Cheol, I-I’m getting close,” you moan out in a warning tone, but it only makes him more determined, his fingertips grinding into you and his lips puckering around your clit. You seem to love it when he sucks in pulses and crooks his fingers into your sweet spot at the same time so he sets a quick tempo, hoping to help you find the edge and then tip you over it. 

It happens sooner than he expects, the molten velvet of your cunt tightening around his fingers rhythmically as your cries reach a fever pitch. He doesn’t stop, wonders if he even could when you’re making the noises you are and begging him, “Please, Cheollie, please.”

He would soothe you but his mouth is still hard at work on your clit, his tongue rolling over the bud again and again as his fingers prod that spot inside of you. Soon enough, you can’t speak, just sobbing and sinking a hand into his hair to hold him in place, your thigh falling to rest on his shoulder. 

He doesn’t mind the weight, loves your soft skin against his ear and the feeling of you pressing his face into your pussy, as if he’d even consider pulling away now. You want to cum again, he can tell, and he’s not going to stop until you do. 

He fucks his fingers in and out of you faster, pursing his lips around your clit and sucking deeply, grumbling and groaning into you in encouragement, his brows furrowed and his vision hazy. 

Your cunt spasms around his fingers, growing impossibly wetter and locking down like a vise until all he can do is curl his fingertips into your sweet spot and dig his tongue into your clit. A sharp whine pierces the air and your thigh trembles on his shoulder as you break, arousal gushing out of you in spurts to coat his neck and drip down over his collarbones. 

It’s the only flood he’s ever been thankful for, and before you’ve even started to recover, he’s already voicing his gratitude.

“Fucking beautiful, baby. That was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me, oh my god,” he mumbles, pressing kisses along the thigh that rests on his shoulder, withdrawing his fingers to clean them off with his mouth. 

“I didn’t know I could do that,” you whisper dreamily, struggling to lift your head. 

He lowers your thigh and rises to his feet, shaking out his stiff legs before leaning down over you and letting you taste yourself on his lips. The kiss grows deep in an instant, his tongue sliding into your mouth as you wrap your legs around him and pull his body into yours. His aching dick gets trapped in between until you reach down and take hold of it, guiding it to rest against your hot, wet cunt. 

That first bit of contact is enough to pull a low groan from him, the slippery heat of your pussy on the top side of his cock making him throb and leak against you. He’s so fucking desperate for you but there’s only one thing that he wants more than to sink inside of you bare right now, and that’s to respect your wishes (and not get you pregnant… for the next year or two, at least). 

Maybe someday he can fuck you without a condom but that day won’t be today, so with great difficulty, he drags his lips away from yours and reaches an arm out to pull open his bedside drawer. He feels around for a second, exclaiming victoriously when his fingers catch on the box before he takes hold of it and sets it on the bed. 

Looking back at you for approval, he finds you beaming up at him like he hung the stars in the sky just so you could bask in their light, and fuck, he swears he’d rearrange them all in the shape of you, given the chance. 

He fumbles one-handed with the box for a minute, his other hand braced next to your head to keep himself from crushing you, before you take over and tear it open, ripping a packet off the strip and tossing the rest onto his nightstand. 

“We’ll need those for later,” you inform him matter-of-factly as you unwrap the condom and reach down to wrap your fingers around his dick. He’s been leaking enough precum that your hand glides when you pump it up and down, and it takes an astounding amount of self control not to fuck into your grasp as if he’s never been touched before. 

You place the condom at his tip and start to roll it on and even that is heavenly, your touch electric and your eyes bright like the summer sun when your gaze meets his. He feels you line him up, his cock jumping at just the thought of being inside your perfect cunt, barrier or no barrier. Your legs tighten around his waist, pulling his hips into yours, and he takes that for the hint it is. 

Sucking in a deep breath, he starts to sink into you, the head of his cock pushing through the tightness of your entrance to disappear inside of you inch by inch. He goes slowly, both to give you time to adjust and to give himself the opportunity to get it together, the blazing heat and intoxicating grip of your pussy wiping out every coherent thought in his brain. There’s a stretch but it’s eased by your arousal, and the way he can feel you relaxing and opening up to accept him is nothing short of exquisite. 

“How does it feel?” He gasps out raggedly, watching your face as he finally bottoms out. Your eyebrows are scrunched up and your pretty lips are parted, soft breaths escaping as you hitch your thighs up higher on his waist and let your eyes blink open. 

They’re full of tears, making him blanch and immediately start to pull his hips back, sure that he’s hurting you and you’ve been unable to even speak through the pain to tell him. 

“No, stay! Stay, Cheollie, it’s fucking perfect,” you plead in a broken voice, hugging him closer with your legs and wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Then why are you crying?” He asks, confused and still slightly worried though the fluttering of your walls around him is enough to make him want to cry too. 

“I’ve just wanted you for so long, and you make me feel even better than I ever dreamed you would,” you tell him through a wobbly smile. “I think you’re my missing piece.” 

“Baby,” he sighs lovingly as he melts against you and drops down to his elbows to press his lips to yours, the movement burying him just a bit deeper inside and making both you and him moan in pleasure. 

He doesn’t think he even knows words that could explain how flawless, how right you feel around him, but he can at least try, for you. 

“Being inside of you is like… coming home. Like I’ve been wandering in the cold my whole life and I finally found somewhere soft and warm and safe to rest. I kind of want to never leave,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against yours and gazing into your eyes as he speaks. 

“You may not be able to stay forever but I’ll always want you to come home again,” you promise him gently. “You will leave enough to move, though, right? Because-”

Laughing, he squeezes his eyes shut and steels himself before pulling his hips back a few inches, the drag of your clenching walls on his cock enough to steal his breath even with the latex in between. He tries to go slowly as he presses back into you, but the igneous embrace of your cunt draws him in with one effortless, gliding thrust. 

Somehow, burying himself inside of you the second time feels even better than the first, and it’s easier to withdraw from your warmth again when he realizes that the pleasure will only compound as he moves more and more. 

Fighting to keep his eyes open and on your face while he establishes a rhythm, he builds speed until the catch in your breath and the fluttering of your eyelashes tells him he’s found the best pace for you. He can’t make it out more than a couple inches before your legs around his waist stop him, but he loves that you want him inside as much as he wants to be inside, so he just puts more power behind his hips as he slides back in to make sure you feel it. 

Time starts to pass and he falls into something like a trance, the feeling of your pussy clinging to him as he leaves and cradling him as he returns hypnotic. It’s almost as if he’s lost the ability for complex thought and replaced it with pure sensation, just acting on instinct now that his brain has been rendered useless. 

It doesn’t help that your gaze is deep, mesmerizing, fucking magnetic. He can’t look away, feels like he can’t even blink as he fucks into you, his face close enough to yours that he’s breathing your air. Still, he wants to be even closer, wants to burrow inside of you, climb into your ribcage, and make a home right next to your heart. 

The desire is so intense, it’s nearly frightening, but nothing could scare Seungcheol away from you now. He’s yours, mind, body, and soul, belonging to you in a way he’s never allowed himself to belong to anyone else before. 

He hates to admit it, but he’s already starting to get close. Lasting has never been an issue for him, even in the past few months when all he could think about was you, but thinking about you and being inside of you are two very different things. Your pussy is goddamn magical, everything about fucking you is goddamn magical, and he fears his only hope is in changing positions. 

“Baby, can I- shit, can I fuck you from behind?” He stalls his movements long enough to ask, dreading the moment he’ll have to pull out completely so you can turn over. 

“Um, yes but…I honestly don’t know if I can hold myself up,” you reluctantly admit, like you think it’s something to be embarrassed about. 

“That’s what pillows and my hands are for,” he assures you, smiling at the way you relax and unwrap your legs from his waist, allowing him to begin the process of extricating himself from you. 

Slowly, he begins to draw his hips back, ignoring the alarm bells that ring in his head as he feels his cock leave your heat inch by inch. It’s only for a minute or two, he tells himself, pushing off of you and sitting up so you can get onto your stomach. 

He watches your body move as you roll over, his eyes stuck on the curve of your plush ass before you get your knees under you and they shift to the gleam of your wet, fucked open cunt. Keeping his gaze on you, he reaches to the head of the bed and grabs the two pillows that rest there, sliding them under your hips one after another. You sink into position, your back arched and your cheek pressed against his sheet, completely relaxed even with your body on full display for him. 

The groan escapes without his permission, the memory of your taste on his tongue making his mouth water. Before he knows it, he’s on his stomach too and burying his face in your pussy, reaching up to press down on the small of your back so you arch even deeper into him. 

“Cheol!” You gasp, pushing back onto his tongue when he shoves it inside of you, making him whimper into your cunt as he devours you. 

“Never gonna get enough of this pussy, fuck,” he mutters as he shifts his focus to your clit, wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking in pulses. He doesn’t know how long he eats you out, just that he goes until you’re dripping down his face again and squirming against him, desperate to cum. 

“Seungcheol, please, I ne-need your cock, need you to fill me up,” you cry out, reaching back and gripping one of his hands where it holds you down. 

His dick jumps and leaks into the condom at your words, the plea in your voice sparking a shiver he feels all the way from his scalp to his toes. Pulling his tongue from you, he rises back up on his knees and shuffles forward, taking hold of his cock and gliding it up and down the seam of you, nudging at your clit. 

“Cheol,” you begin, likely about to threaten him. He would love to hear it but your entrance catches on the head of his dick and he can’t resist the alluring, feverish depths of your cunt, sliding inside in one long, ruthless thrust. 

You keen when he reaches the end of you but you also tilt your hips to accept the last inch, the snug clutch of your pussy near mythical in the bliss it brings him. With one hand gripping your hip to hold you up and the other firm on the small of your back to keep you in place, he starts thrusting in and out of you. 

The tempo he takes is brutal, fierce, the force of his hips impacting your ass making it ripple and bounce as he fucks into you. His hearing is fuzzy with how fucking good it feels but he can still make out the smack of his skin against yours and the slick sound of his cock gliding through your wetness. There’s a squelch every time he bottoms out, and accompanied by your whines and whimpers, all of the noises combine to create a masterpiece of a melody. 

Seungcheol truly thought the pause would help but he’s right back where he started, throbbing and leaking for you and so fucking close to the edge, he’s concerned he’ll make it there before you do. Sure, you already came twice, but you deserve a third, a fourth if he can hold himself back long enough - one orgasm for every month he spent not making you cum. 

The hand on your back slips around under your hips, working itself down between your legs to find your clit. It’s swollen beneath his fingers, slippery from the arousal his dick keeps pushing out, which only makes it easier to swirl circles into the bud, the way your pussy instantly clenches around him making him moan roughly. 

The added resistance just enhances each stroke, your walls trying to suck his cock back in when he pulls out and hugging him tighter and tighter every time he pushes inside again. He fears he won’t be able to make you cum without it making him cum too, but there’s something so poetic about finding that euphoria together that he can’t be bothered about breaking this soon. 

“Getting close, baby?” He asks, fairly sure what your answer will be. 

“Yeah, Cheollie, wan-wanna cum with you inside me so bad,” you gasp, craning your neck to look back at him. “Thought about it every time I-” 

You can’t finish your sentence when his fingers start to move faster, but he thinks he knows where you were going with it. 

“Every time you fucked yourself, you wished it was me instead, huh?” He teases a little meanly, knowing he has no room to talk.

Your face crumples as you nod, tears filling your eyes, and he leans down over you, his hand leaving your hip to brace himself so he doesn’t suffocate you. He presses his lips to your cheek, your jaw, your neck, murmuring, “I did the same fucking thing, baby, and I always wanted it to be you.”

“Promise?” You whisper, a vulnerable tinge to your voice. He’s reminded that, until tonight, you had no idea how he felt about you. This is all still new, and he needs to be kind, delicate, reassuring as you acclimate to the reality of him being in love with you. 

Stopping all movement so you can fully focus on his words, he whispers back, “Cross my heart and hope to die. Ever since we met, I’ve thought about you, wanted you, dreamed about you. I fell for you. You’re it for me.” 

“You're it for me too, Seungcheol,” you tell him gently, before asking, “Can I turn back over? I want you to hold me.”

He answers by smacking one last kiss to your cheek and climbing off of you, helping to roll you onto your back and pulling one of the pillows out from under your hips, leaving you slightly elevated but not so much that it’s uncomfortable. Sighing contentedly as he stretches himself out along your body, he slides his forearm under your shoulders to pull you into his chest and holds himself up with that elbow, slipping the other hand between your bodies to guide his dick inside of you. 

“Better?” He confirms, grinning when you nod shyly and wrap your arms around his neck, your legs rising to encircle his waist as he sinks back into you. He hopes you feel as held by him as he feels by you, the sheer comfort and safety of your body enough to make his eyes water this time. 

He moves slowly, carefully, rocking in and out of you at a steady pace, never leaving you more than halfway before burying himself inside again. The brief pause did wonders for his self control, his release feeling far enough away that he thinks he really might be able to get you there once before he lets you pull him over the edge too. 

Until you start kissing him, that is. 

Once your lips meet his and your tongue slips into his mouth, every part of him is wrapped up in loving you. There’s not a single thing on his mind except for you, every thought dedicated to kissing you, fucking you, pleasing you, and it feels so goddamn right. Like this is what he was made for. 

And fuck if that doesn’t have him closer than ever before, his cock pulsing and leaking into the condom, the latex probably the only thing keeping him from cumming right now. If he could feel you bare, it would be over for him, and as much as he wants to experience you without the barrier, he’s thankful for it. 

His fingers settle back onto your clit and start to rub circles around it, his mouth catching the gasp you let out when his hips scoop on the next thrust in and drag the head of his cock against your g-spot. 

He can’t hit it with every stroke, not when he wants to get as deep as possible, but combined with the work of his fingers, he can feel you getting closer each and every time he does graze the erogenous patch. 

You stop kissing him to tilt your head back and let out a long, high-pitched whine, and he knows it’s almost time. He doesn’t change a thing, not when your nails dig into his shoulders, not when your hips buck into his, not even when your pussy starts to swallow around his cock. He just keeps his steady pace, continues to roll your clit beneath his fingers, and hopes, prays, wishes that pleasure will find you before it washes over him. 

“Please, please, please baby, please fucking cum for me,” he begs, every muscle in his body tensing as he fights to hold off his own orgasm. It’s not in vain, thank fucking goodness, because you whimper brokenly as your pussy starts to undulate around him, growing tighter and tighter until he can’t move, can barely even breathe. 

You’re cumming, fuck, you’re cumming, and so is he, the pulsating of your walls around him making him surge deep inside and stay there as he fills the condom with his cum, his cock jerking and jumping within you. It’s better than it ever has been, every thought in his head wiped out by pure fucking ecstasy and every muscle in his body tensing then relaxing as he succumbs to the urge to just melt into you and let two become one. 

Minutes, or maybe hours, pass before he can pull himself away from you, but eventually you release your hold on him, your arms falling to rest beside your head and your legs gingerly returning to the mattress. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to not be inside of you, but the condom is starting to feel uncomfortable now that he’s softening, especially as full of cum as it is, so he holds the base of it as he withdraws himself from you. 

You pout the whole time and he does too, but you say nothing as he gets off the bed to slip the condom off, tying the end in a knot before dropping it in the bin next to his desk. 

Seungcheol doesn’t know why but he’s nervous to turn back around, to face you again. When he does, though, you just smile up at him sleepily and open your arms, waiting for him to find his place. 

He grins softly and slides back into bed, laying on his back and gathering you up against his chest, humming contentedly when you snuggle into him, your leg tossed over his thigh and your arm wrapped around his waist. 

“We should wash up, but I don’t want to move…” he murmurs, lifting his head just enough to press a kiss to your crown before letting it drop back down, his eyes fluttering closed. 

“I have bad news,” you say quietly. His heart starts to race and his eyes fly open, his arms tightening around you like that’ll protect him from what you’re about to say. 

“What is it?” He asks, hesitation clear in his voice. 

“We forgot my stuff in your car,” you whisper nervously, as if that’s something he would actually get upset with you over. 

He can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of him, tinged in both love and relief, though he does muffle it in your hair. 

“That’s not so bad, baby. I’ll go get your water and bag, and you start the shower, okay?” he proposes, already planning to jog so he can make it back in time to rinse off with you. 

“Okay,” you sigh happily, sitting up and rolling out of bed before prancing over to the ensuite, fully fucking naked. 

Yeah, no way in hell is he staying on that goddamn couch tonight. 

AN: what a fucking journey this was!! I’m so happy i kept yall updated through it because it was so nice to have you cheering me on and to know you were excited for it to come out 🥺 did i expect it to be three times as long as part one? no! are their feelings a bit dramatic? yes! is this fanfiction? yes, so i can make it as dramatic as i want! people get married after one month, they’re allowed to be in love after four! ps you don’t know how hard it was to keep more breeding kink from slipping into this like it’s borderline impossible for me to write seungcheol without breeding kink but i did my best and i did it for you

all i have left to say is this: you deserve someone who will love you like seungcheol loves reader! you deserve someone who will listen to you and respect you and do everything in their power to make you feel good! that’s what i, user sluttywoozi, wants for you! remember that the next time you think about settling for less than what you deserve!

Taglist: @so-da-1 @plskillme22 @nightshadeblooming @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @gyuguys @jennwonwoo @lelestarmy @disneyprincessshuri @alexbarberry @scoupsjin @sourkimchi @bangrauhl13 @meowmeowminnie @jungkooknippleanddicksucker @lukeys-giggle @polyglot-ton267 @bubbletroubble @bouclesdefeu @sunshinekyeom-sang @ujimatchaaa

[nemesyaaa]

pygmalion au // rafe cameron x reader

summary ; “ you love someone you can shape, who has no will to escape. ” artist!rafe x muse!reader.

warnings ; unsafe feelings. slight of angst. smut. kind of fantasy/magic. art glorification. attachment issues. innocent!reader. fear of losing somebody. first time. rafe being a lost boy. dubcon. pygmalion' weird story. toxic!rafe. mentions of drugs. oral (m. receiving). p in v. insecurities. praising. artist hands appreciation. minors DNI.

author's note : 3,5 k words for this. one-shot. also a lot of tummy appreciation (tysm @shawtycoreee 🫶🏿). out of the smut, i tried to write it so poetic 😭🤟🏿

— “ wrap me up, enfold me. i am small and needy. warm me up and breathe me. ” breathe me by sia.

it was alone and late at night that rafe cameron began to create you, not really knowing at the time he started his art what work you would produce. he only cut the stone with his hands. before forming your body, he fantasized about it internally, not really knowing what a woman's anatomy actually looked like. you were like a crazy dream he was trying to sort out, a fantasy he was trying to make real. he sculpted with his straight calloused and tired hands, manipulating the fragile and sensitive material with precision.

he hated doing badly, but it was what he did best. as he worked, he sank into his own fascination. you were magnificent, no, you were divine, the glorious treasure from his hands. it was scary and breathtaking. he had never done anything so beautiful, never created anything so charming. you had this firm, seductive chest, completely bare and hard, the movement of the stone making your belly round and chubby. you were carved in marble, an inanimate statue that had found favor in the eyes of his creator.

when he had finished your face,

he had been amazed but above all frightened by what his fingers had achieved. he had given shape to your lips, your nose, your mouth and your eyes. and now that you had a look, it was like you were confronting him. because now that you had pupils, you could look at him too, you could judge him too. you could be as superior as him, but also equal to his worth.

you were his most beautiful work of art, literally his ethereal and angelic muse. and above all, you made him nervous. not only were you realistic, but you were a woman, you were like one of the goddesses from greek mythology, completely naked.

it was unexpected, but he had knelt before you, before your altar, on his legs and his hands. he was so white and desperate like a lost sinner having only his god to pray and glorify in order to survive.

you had seen his lips part in a prayer, his mouth tighten in a whisper. and you had ears, certainly made of stone, but you had heard it. you had heard his wish lost in the void. yet he had nothing of a believer, you could hardly imagine this man on the benches of a church, but you were also cruelly incapable of seeing and understanding who he really was.

when he stood up, you felt his hands on your skin, the coldness of his ring, but also the awkwardness of his touch. you could tell it was the first time he touched someone intimately, because he didn't really know where to put his hands but he also didn't know how to touch you without destroying you.

rafe cameron was not a god. he could break anything he touched. and maybe that was why he was so nervous and pathetic. you belonged to him now that he had created you so he refused to lose you without even knowing you.

he had hoped that god would make you a real woman, because you were perfect, too sublime to be just a piece of stone.

he didn't need to pull himself up to reach you, he was much taller, more intimidating in terms of size. he could lift you up and control you with just one hand.

you looked so alive so why, why did he only hear one heartbeat in the room? why was he alone breathing in this cold and empty room? why did you only have life in appearance?

you could feel in his look that he was questioning, that he was troubled, that all the beauty of his blue eyes was overwhelmed. but you had also felt his face so close to yours, his breath fanning across your molded lips. he had been hesitant, but his mouth had finally found yours.

and you surprised yourself by loving the taste of his pretty lips, but above all by being able to touch it.

and it was like that kiss had been real enough of how he felt about you that god had decided to give him a chance.

you had sensed all the ivory of your body, of your muscles, becoming sublimely gorgeous, all your stone beauty becoming human and alive. as if his devotion had allowed you to be free and to exist.

when he felt your mouth melt on his, he pulled back in fear. you weren’t supposed to be real even if he wanted you to be. since when did statues come to life?

"oh fuck, what's going on here?... i think i'm going crazy...all that fucking coke…”

“you created me.” you replied, slightly hurt by his reaction because he was supposed to be happy.

"no, you're not supposed to be alive. i mean, you're art, you can't be human."

“i’m human!” you contradicted, stepping forward from your marble base.

rafe wasn't sure if it was a nightmare or a dream. but his gaze was anchored on you, he couldn't take every inch of his eyes off your body. he was magnetized by your magnificence.

you came just close enough to take his hand and place it against your chest. “don’t be cold to me. don’t leave me. what would i do without you? you can't reject me. you need me. ”

maybe that was the game changer for rafe cameron. because he had just understood that since you were his, you belonged to him, you were entirely dependent on him. you couldn't escape, and above all, you had no desire to.

he could do what he wanted, you were like a doll created to respond to the slightest of his favors without ever complacent. you were not only perfect but unimaginable.

” be on your knees for me.”

and the next second, you were staring at him waiting for another order.

"mmh...i know your body by heart. i shape all of this. but you have never seen mine. no worry, i'm going to fix that, okay? you're going to please me tonight and not make me regret 'have given you life?”

you nodded in agreement and he smiled because you were too innocent, too sweet for someone like him. he had unzipped his pants, making them fall to his legs like his boxers.

and it was the first time you saw a naked man in front of you, but it was also fair for you because you had no clothes. “let me help you…” he offered with a smirk. his thumb had rolled over your lips, creating a slight slit between them. “ you need to open that pretty mouth wider...” he added, taking advantage of your vulnerability to use you.

"you know it will only hurt if you don't relax. so don't be tense. because even if it's big, you're gonna take it, doll. not gonna be easy on you because it's your first time. show me what you can do baby, let me feel how grateful you are for your creator. "

he had pushed his tip against your lips, forcing his way into your mouth, making you open bigger to accommodate his cock in your cavity. it was new to you, and you weren't even sure if you could satisfy him because it was the first time you had done something like that, and especially used your mouth in that way.

you thought this area was used to create intimacy between people, not to do dirty things.

“baby, i really appreciate how sweet you can be, but don’t let me do all the work…” he had scoffed. and your heart skipped a beat when he shoved himself further in your mouth, so much so that you felt him hit the back of your throat, all the speed of his harshly strokes leaving you breathless.

you choked on his movements, saliva pooling and dripping between the corners of your enlarged lips. “that’s what happens when you don’t do your part of the job properly…” his tone was falsely accusatory as you couldn’t catch your breath from his pace. he had no pity, you had turned on him too much. and to fix it, he blamed you by harassing your throat with his fat cock.

"but since you leave me no choice, let me show you how to be a good girl for me..." he had plugged your nose, pinching it hard, forcing you to take him entirely, without being able to breathe. his length swallowed in and out, your tongue barely able to support his weight which grew as he bullied your lips.

you belonged to him so he didn’t care if he ruined you a little. he told himself that he would repair you.

he released your nose when he felt you were about to pass, with a sadistic giggle. your eyes were wet with tears. “oh baby, don’t give me that look, you’re wasting your time, i don’t feel pity. ”

you continued to pump him until your jaw arched tighten and become more tense. he pulled out for a moment, spitting in your tongue, before using your throat again. his grunts were frantic and rapid, hot breaths in sync with the pornographic sounds that emanated from your sucking. his large palm was wrapped around the back of your neck, controlling your posture. “ give me that sweet eyes again, and i will make them cry.”

he took so much pleasure in watching you swallow him hard, grunting every time he entered your throat hoping to relax it but causing the opposite effect. "'ot finished. take those balls too." he had pulled back to lift his painfully throbbing dick and place it against his stomach, you had started to lick them, letting your tongue work the entire surface, coating them with saliva. "feel? how full they are. they're gonna stuff you real bad. " you sucked on them when he pushed them directly into your mouth, making him let out throaty sounds. your mouth felt so good, he wondered if your pussy would be just as her.

between your legs, it was completely soaked. your sloppy slit dripping onto the floor. it wasn’t like rafe was ignoring that mess. he was just purely mesmerized by your lips, by the way you cupped his balls so well, and how his cock reacted to each of your licks.

you were definitely his best work. it was more than art, it was heavenly. he was incapable of not using you after creating you. he had his urges, and you had to respond to them.

he had started fisting his length, leaving you lapping at his genitals dangling above your face. the cum had gushed through the air, landing on you. he had rubbed his trailing tip on your cheeks, giving a new color to your skin.

he wondered if you were human enough to feel all this degradation. in a short movement, he had placed you in front of the standing mirror of the workshop, and had driven his body against yours. he spat into his hand before jerking off a little, pressing the head of his cock against your sticky dirty folds.

he placed his arm across your stomach, one hand gripping one of your breast, pressing it more firmly once lodged inside you and grunted as he felt how tight you were, how hard your pussy stretched in his path. thanks to the mirror, he could see each of your reactions, but above all, see your part pumped each of his inches. all his size had disappeared between your flowing walls.

your twitching cunt clenched around his girth, your canal squeezing him. his thrusts were merciless, burrowing into your soiled folds. rafe rocked his hips roughly, as his dick bullied your puffy core. he wondered how a loser like him could have created a goddess like you. and he was desperate to know if he could make you stupid, if his cock that destroyed and filled you was good enough for someone like you.

you had created a mess and frustration in him.

he was in love with the bouncing flesh on your tummy against his arm, your tits swaying when you took him. it was a grace.

he reached out and hit your spot every time he buried himself inside you, his face sank in your left shoulder. you could feel the strands of his hair against your skin, his mouth against your collarbone. you were his, he was fucking you like this. you were only alive when he touched you. you could feel his obsession and adoration in every thrusts, no matter how brutal they were. it was his way of showing you that you couldn't escape him and that you could never.

his rhythm was hard, as your pudgy tummy jiggled under his strong fingers who were digging into you. you were so giddy, fucked like a ragdoll not able to said if it was the butterflies that make your stomach spiraling, or that thick dick shoved inch by inch further into your messy slick. his other digits at your clit, massaging the small and eager bud. he was big enough to maneuver you and embraced your small frame with his muscular biceps.

you were too little, too fragile underneath him.

he was your creator, he gave you air but he could also take it away from you. you were completely dependent, not only you, but every crumb of your body. he was pounding into you with the inability to detach his cock from your fluffy pussy. he loved hearing your voice choked with tears and moans against his ear. it was a sweet melody, a symphony.

your body was perfect, straddling his, your skin slapping his. your lips gurgling around his fingers that you could no longer take without dropping them, because of his violent assaults. you drooled all over your mouth, struggling with the drool that splashed all over his hand.

you couldn't see anything anymore, it was blurry. you didn't even feel tired anymore, you felt like a stupid doll, unable to think and reflect, only able to take this cock nastily harassing you and stretching you violently.

with his muscular and heavy hand on your throat, he forced you to look at the mirror. there was something incredible and perfect in his hands, and you knew it from the moment he started sculpting you. they were so good and incredible, covered with veins that systematically bulged. they captured your belly fat well. “don’t hide this from me. it’s my property.”

he had harpooned your flesh between his fingers, making it move and hang down more as he fucked you senseless.

“if i shaped you like that, that meant i wanted you like that.” your tummy was caged in his grasp. “ i mean, look at that belly, it's all beauty, i swear.”

he had moved his hand to the lower part of your stomach, pressing that area of your skin, feeling his bulge farther in you. in this corner of the room, there was only you and him, only your whimpers against his fingers and the pleasure you felt. there was only this mirror that stared at you and reflected you in the darkness with the only light of the moon as a beacon.

you were divine, you had the perfect body of a goddess. and even having cum with you, even causing your third orgasm, he didn't want to pull out. it was as if he was afraid of the emptiness he expected after this. and maybe you too were dreading the emptiness inside you after he filled you up so well, your soaked pussy dripping with his cum, drooling all over the floor.

he had finally taken it out, his fingers entering you to collect his mixture and place it against your lips. “don’t let it go to waste.”

you had cleaned his fingers until they were pure again.

he had his eyes on you, like a human in front of art.

he still didn't realize. but he refused to let you escape. but it wasn't like you could. he had created a home here, all over this room and in you. he had established a domain in every inch of your skin. he only had to see you to know that you were his own creation.

you kissed him, slightly awkwardly but he made up for it with his mouth on yours. “you can’t abandon me.” he whispered. “i don’t want to abandon you.”

and it felt good to hear your words. you didn't know him well enough, or not really, to know how sick he was. but you felt grateful that he gave you life, because it was priceless. he had made you, and you were his.

“ what are you doing?” when you felt chains encircling your wrists, you weren’t sure if you liked it. "i really want to believe in you sweetheart but i also can't trust anyone. you have legs, you can run away from me but with this metal, you're stuck.”

“i don’t really like it…” you admitted and he replied “no one likes it but the difference is that you don’t really have a choice either. you're mine. your feelings, your body, your eyes, all of that is mine. even that pouty sweet face of yours. ”

you turned your head to let him know that you didn't appreciate it, and to give him the silent treatment. and he smiled. “it doesn't kill me, baby. you can pout. ”

you didn’t respond. "you really want to give me this treatment? maybe you really don't want me to be nice to you after all..."

he had smiled. “"okay...I'll give you what you want." he had disappeared for a few minutes before coming back with an object that you couldn't identify. " what is this ? "

"now, baby wants to talk...but it's a little too late, i'm making the rules here so...say hello to your new favorite toy. it's a gagball.”

you didn't feel it was useful until the ball went into your mouth and stopped you from speaking. you could only drool and grumble around the object.

"why that face, baby? that's not what you wanted? i swear you still look pretty. just quieter. i'm going to go to sleep. and tomorrow you'll show me how sorry you are for that attitude. you want to know if i would forgive you? maybe it would be too easy, you understand? you have all night to prepare excuses and they better please me because i can be even more creative than that to punish you. “

the next day he woke up in a good mood. and above all, you were always there.

he had picked up the bottle of water from his table, wondering if you were thirsty. but when he arrived in front of you, he changed his mind. he used it to wake you up.

"i'm so clumsy...sorry, baby." but there wasn't an ounce of regret in his voice so you knew he was joking. you learned to read his face.

“you know how sorry i am…” he added, facing your gaze.

“you’re not…”

"yes, right. such a clever baby. are you thirsty?”

" yes..."

“maybe if you show me how good and nice you are today, i can consider bringing you another bottle.”

"what do you want..."

“it’s not what i want, sweetheart. but what you will do to satisfy me. see the small difference ? ”

it had been several weeks, a month in fact, since the day of your creation. you had spent your time in this workshop, chained to this wall. you were only alone when rafe left, when he left you in the shadows.

in fact, he was clearly having fun with you. you were dependent on his affection, and he knew it. you reacted to the slightest attention he gave you, even the most mean and bad. but above all you were incapable of hating rafe cameron.

he had made you a magnificent creature, a living human, you would be even crueler than him if you hated him.

after all, you were his muse. he had the right to use you. that was also the thought he had drilled into your brain.

everything he did was for you. and you should be grateful.

but sometimes he wondered, if he killed you, would you come back to life? was there magic in you or was he just in a fucking wonderful dream? he did enough coke to get high for days but this time it lasted too long for it to be fake.

your relationship was strange because sometimes you felt loved, especially when he hugged you after being rough with you, his palm gently caressing your back. like any human, there was tenderness in him. he could be nice. he knew how to be one but that didn't mean he enjoyed being one. he just thought that if he was too mean, you would disappear.

and that was not something he could tolerate. during all this time spent with you, he had not learned, no, he had not succeeded, to live without you.

artists brought art to life, but art gave meaning to the artists' lives.

before you, he was alone.

he had prayed for you. he needed you. it was his final call.

rafe cameron fell in love with you before he created you, before he even imagined you.

and maybe that was why he was so mean to you, because he never knew love, so how can you blame him for not knowing if you loved him back or make fun of him?

he was pathetic, full of rage and violence. but you couldn't hate him, because you and him shared the same tears. the same pain.

he made you, and you made him. he was afraid and you were scared. you wanted someone to love you, and he wanted someone that could love him.

“ i swear, y/n. don't leave me alone. even when you looked away, you make me feel like a monster when i'm not. so please, do the same as me. ”

“ what ? ”

“ don't make me feel like somebody else exists. i'm the only world you can live in. ”

[smileysuh]

after the seminar

🌙 staring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. In truth, Wonwoo has been tired. You haven’t fucked since the first night of the seminar, and although that was only two days ago, you’re definitely feeling the loss. On top of that, being wined and dined and looked after always makes you hornier than usual, and Wonwoo has been extra ‘husband’ today. He’s just so perfect. Well-mannered, kind, educated- God, you want him so bad.

tw/cw. sugar daddy Wonwoo, gentleman in the streets/softdom in the sheets, reader doesn't want to make choices, daddy/control kink, fingering, multiple orgasms, oral, blow job, deep throating, dirty talk, praise, masturbation, unprotected sex, holding hands while fucking, implied breeding/fullness kink, etc… I pet names: (hers) honey. (his) daddy.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 6.3k

🍭 aus. sugar daddy au, established relationship, fiance!Wonwoo, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I know not everyone is into this level of sugar daddy control, but I think there's something to be said about the trust that reader has for Wonwoo. Sometimes I just wanna shut up and let a man do all the work, and today, that man is Wonwoo

Wonwoo’s had few loves in his life. During university, he’d had a love for law, a need to do what was right. In his thirties, he’d found a new soulmate in legislative procedures related to the sustainability and efficiency of whole cities. Finance had been another long-winded lover, and now, on the cusp of forty, Wonwoo’s found the one thing in the world he loves most, you.

Holding your hand while he drives through the city, Wonwoo can’t help but keep some of his attention on you. 

Dressed in a tight-fitting red dress he’d bought you for your six-month anniversary in Paris, with your hair and makeup done, you look as stunning as ever. There’s a fat rock on your wedding finger, an engagement ring signifying his loyalty to you, and Wonwoo can’t help himself but play with it a little anytime your hands are linked.

As he makes a turn onto a busy street, the sun practically blinds him, and Wonwoo immediately lets go of you to adjust his visor. You make no movement, so he pulls yours down too, enjoying the way you flash him a small smile and whisper a ‘thank you.’

“You look lost in thought,” he muses, having noted your gaze fixed on the sidewalk trees passing by outside your window. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just thinking about seminar topics,” you admit. 

Over the past three days, you’ve accompanied him to multiple talks focused on accessibility, affordability, and green solutions within cities like yours. Tonight marks the last evening of the event, and the two of you are headed to a meet-up with some of Wonwoo’s closest lawyer friends. 

Wonwoo loves how diligently you’ve thrown yourself into his work-focused world. Not only do you attend the seminars with him, but you truly make an effort to learn, and that’s never more obvious than when conversing with his colleagues.

Wonwoo’s best friend, Kim Mingyu, has entertained a string of sugar baby relationships, and despite inviting three or four of those women to events like the one you’ve just accompanied Wonwoo to, none of Mingyu’s girls ever took to it the way you do.

You’re one of a kind, and Wonwoo knows how lucky he is to have you.

“I’m sure Seungcheol will have a few things to say about the housing crisis talk,” Wonwoo notes. Choi Seungheol, who had started in law and made the leap to real estate. He now owns half of the new developments being built downtown, and Wonwoo knows this will spur a contentious discussion later.

“He can’t argue with the stats,” you sigh, turning to look at Wonwoo, who threads his fingers with yours again. 

“He can try,” Wonwoo smiles softly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. 

You return the smile, turning your attention out the window again. 

You’re not voicing anything, but Wonwoo can read you like a book. It used to be his job to pay attention to body language, and while he tries to stay humble, people have called him something of a mind reader.

“It’s been an exhausting three days,” he notes. “We don’t have to be out for long tonight, I’m sure we both need our rest.”

“Hansol flies to New York tomorrow morning,” you remind him. “I want you to have as much time with him as you need before he’s gone.”

Your relationship is always something like this, the two of you caring for each other so deeply that you constantly make small concessions. As always, though, the ball is in Wonwoo’s court. He appreciates the way you can feel to him like an intellectual equal while still being submissive in other senses, although he never abuses this power over you.

He’ll keep an eye on you tonight, and when he notices you getting tired, or your energy depleting, he’ll excuse the both of you from drinks and take you back to his place. Then, he’ll take care of you in the ways only he knows how. 

You love Wonwoo. You love him for the big things, his character, his good heart- but you love him for the little things too, the way nothing slips past his line of focus. He’s always a hundred percent on and present with you, holding open every door, guiding you by the small of your back, and pulling out your chair first when you join his friends on the top floor restaurant in the most expensive hotel in the city.

“You look amazing,” Mingyu compliments you, flashing you a toothy grin before standing to greet Wonwoo with a hug. “You definitely know how to pick them,” he praises his friend.

“And look at that ring,” Seungcheol has zeroed in on the diamond on your finger, and he reaches across the table to take your hand and get a better look at it. Wonwoo’s eldest friend has always had an eye for luxury, and he studies the oval rock and silver-colored band. “I’d ask if this is sterling,” he muses, “but if I were a betting man, which I am, I’d say it’s white gold.” 

Seungcheol lifts his eyes to meet yours, waiting for an affirmative, which you give with a nod. “You know your metals, Mister Choi.”

“How many times do I have to tell you,” he lifts your hand, pressing a gentle kiss to your fingers, “It’s Seungcheol.” 

“Stop flirting with Wonwoo’s girl,” Hansol tuts, pushing at Seungcheol’s shoulder.

The elder man makes a face, brushing off his expensive suit. “Not flirting,” he clarifies. “Although,” his gaze shifts to you again, “if you have any hot friends-”

“Aish,” Wonwoo has rejoined the conversation after greeting Mingyu, and he takes the seat next to you, his arm casually coming around the back of your chair to pull you closer. “What have I told you about asking her for favors?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Sungcheol sighs, sitting back and crossing his arms over his broad chest. “She’s one in a million, aren’t ya, little miss future Jeon to be?”

“Try one in a billion,” Wonwoo corrects, hand finding your thigh now that he’s pulled you close enough. “Have you three ordered drinks yet?”

“We were waiting on you,” Mingyu says, handing Wonwoo a cocktail menu, which he settles between you both so you can also read it. “Their margaritas are pretty good.”

You quickly find a drink you’d like to try, and you wordlessly reach out a manicured nail to tap on it. Wonwoo follows your motion, giving a curt nod, then he leans in to press his lips to your cheek. He waves down the waiter a moment later, and orders you your drink, sparing you the socialization.

This is yet another one of those little things Wonwoo does for you that you find incredibly sexy, and you tuck closer to him, placing your hand over his own on your thigh. 

“We should talk about the elephant in the room,” Mingyu sighs, drawing all eyes. You have no idea what he’s about to say, and then he hits the four of you with, “Cheol, you have to admit your new high rises aren’t sustainable or affordable.”

“They’re called luxury suits for a reason,” Seungcheol scoffs. “I’m not in the business of affordable housing.” 

Wonwoo grins next to you, looking down and squeezing your hand gently. It’s funny how amusing he finds this whole thing. 

“Don’t smirk like that, Woo,” Seungcheol tuts. “As if you didn’t do a walk-through of a penthouse suite in my new highrise last week.” 

This is news to you, and you turn to look at your boyfriend. You’re generally not one to question him, and luckily you don’t have to, because Kim Mingyu is just as nosey as you’d sometimes like to be. “You checked out a penthouse? I thought you loved your apartment?”

“I’ve had it for years,” Wonwoo says, and you can tell he’s choosing his words carefully. “However, I can admit that the amenities at Cheol’s new builds are quite impressive.”

“Amenities,” Seungcheol scoffs. “As if that’s what you were actually interested in.”

The two powerful men share a look, and it’s a battle of wills that makes your heart thump loudly in your chest. 

What was Wonwoo interested in?

He’s never talked to you about moving, and you’ve been living with him for nearly a year. Besides, Mingyu’s right, Wonwoo adores his apartment. He’s had it forever and it’s decorated exactly the way he likes it. Your bedroom is a lovely corner location with views of the whole city, and his home office is a sanctuary you’ve loved to desecrate. 

“We’ll talk about this more another time,” Wonwoo says finally, looking up as your waiter appears with a tray of drinks. 

Your cocktail is set in front of Wonwoo, and he gently pushes it toward you before reaching down to give your thigh a squeeze under the table. He picks up his Old Fashioned with his free hand, and Seungcheol raises his own glass in a toast. “To friends and new engagements!”

Seungcheol nods to you before taking a sip of his scotch, and it fills your body with heat to know his friends truly respect and like you. They’re happy to have you joining as a permanent member of their social sphere. 

You place your hand on top of Wonwoo’s as you bring your cocktail to your lips. 

The discussion moves to details about sustainability, and the men at the table trade opinions on the seminars. Mingyu is fast in his manner of speaking, always intent to prove his point. Cheol is loud and boisterous, scoffing at opinions that don’t align with his own. Hansol is often quiet, but he makes good notes ever so often, and they make the whole table sit and think. And your Wonwoo is as calm and judicial as always, listening to his friends with a contemplative expression even while his thumb draws small circles on your thigh. 

You give your own two cents a few times, and your musings are always the most well-received. None of the men at the table are about to pick a fight with you, and they’re attentive whenever you open your mouth, nodding and making one or two comments before getting heated with each other again. 

The waiter comes and Seungcheol orders a few appetizers while Wonwoo opens the menu for you. When Wonwoo begins to list three of his own items, you tap your finger on the one you’d like most and he voices that as well.

God, how you love the fact that you only have to lift one little finger with Wonwoo while he does the rest. You really aren’t in a super talkative mood, especially when it comes to mundane tasks like ordering food and drinks. You save your voice to join in on the intellectual conversation taking place, and you prefer things this way.

Seungcheol and Wonwoo begin to argue over rezoning laws, and Hansol turns toward you, leaning closer. “Congratulations on your engagement,” he smiles. 

“Thank you,” you grin back. 

“Have you guys talked about wedding plans yet?”

Out of all the people in the world, you didn’t think Chwe Hansol would be one of the first to ask you about wedding details. 

“We’re thinking destination,” you admit.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” Hansol laughs. “And an expensive honeymoon too I bet.” 

“Of course,” you grin, playing with the stem of your cocktail glass. “Although, if I’m being honest…” you lean closer to Hansol, lowering your voice while Wonwoo and Seungcheol continue to argue, “as much as I like the lifestyle I have with Wonwoo, you know I’m happy just to be with him.”

“But the expensive trips are a bonus I bet,” Hansol grins. 

“I mean… would you say no to a trip to the Maldives?” 

Wonwoo’s friend shakes his head, still smiling. “Never.”

“When are you going to find someone?” you ask. Out of all of Wonwoo’s close friends, Hansol is the most level-headed. He’s stable, and kind, and if you weren’t so into Wonwoo, you’d even admit Hansol is quite handsome in his own way. 

“Someday,” Hansol sighs. “Maybe you’ll have cute bridesmaids at your wedding.”

“I’ll put in a good word for you,” you assure him. 

Hansol laughs. “I’d appreciate that.”

Food begins to arrive at the table, and you sit up straight again, tucking close to Wonwoo. He’s done this thing, ever since your first date, where he helps plate food for you, and for some reason, it’s always been a huge turn-on.

You like getting baby girl treatment, and you watch Wonwoo with a grin while he cuts through some carpaccio and sets up a piece for you. He makes sure to get a little bit of everything on your plate before putting anything on his own, and his friends are already digging in by the time he’s gotten the both of you settled.

“Do you want anything else?” he asks, always the type to be certain he’s pleased you.

“This looks perfect,” you lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, lingering by his ear so he’s the only one who can hear you when you say, “Thank you, Daddy.”

Wonwoo reaches down and squeezes your thigh, the only sign you have that your words have done something to him. He’s not the type to be big on PDA, and it’s the little things like a constant touch, or acts of service, that remind you he loves you as much as you love him.

You wait for Wonwoo to lift a carpaccio bread spread to his lips before you reach for your own, mirroring his motions so you can experience the food together. 

You hadn’t been a carpaccio fan before meeting Wonwoo, but he’s expanded your pallet in the time you’ve known him, and you’re extremely thankful for this opportunity - as well as others - that he’s provided for you.

“Look at you two loved-up foodies,” Seungcheol sighs from across the table, watching you with eyes trained to assess. 

Wonwoo only grins, reaching for his drink to take a sip. You follow that motion too, smirking over the rim of your glass before downcasting your eyes. 

There’s no need to respond to Seuncheol’s comment because it’s an apt description of the pair of you.

“Stop being jealous,” Mingyu grins, reaching out to push at Seungcheol’s shoulder. 

“Never going to happen,” Seungcheol retorts. 

You know he’s in the market for a sugar baby, and Wonwoo’s told you how often Seungcheol brings you up when you’re not around. Apparently, his eldest friend is adamant that you’re one of the most perfect sugar babies he’s ever seen, and you wonder if maybe you should try to hook him up with one of your friends at the wedding. Give Cheol the Hansol treatment. However, in contrast to Hansol’s laid-back expectations, you’d have to give your Cheol-intended friend a cheat sheet booklet on how to please a rich man.

“Just watch,” Seungcheol continues, “these two are going to sneak off early and go to the bathroom or something. They’re sitting much too close together, and we’ve all noticed Wonwoo’s hand under the table.”

To show his innocence, Wonwoo lifts the hand in question. “We’re not doing anything,” he assures his friends calmly. “Although… unfortunately, we will have to leave early after appetizers.”

This is news to you, and you look at Wonwoo for further clarification, which he gives when pressed by Seungcheol.

“It’s been a long seminar,” Wonwoo explains, letting out a sigh of exhaustion. “I’d say Honey needs her beauty rest, but I think we all know I’m not so nice when I’ve been sleep deprived.”

You love it when he calls you Honey, in fact, he uses that name for you more than your legal one. 

Seungcheol lets out a groan, but he doesn’t push further, because Wonwoo’s excuse is true. He’s never been rude to you when tired, but he definitely has a ‘don’t fuck with me’ attitude when he wakes up on the wrong side of the bed. 

“We’ve got a meeting tomorrow morning,” Mingyu agrees. “Maybe I should get another drink and call it a night too.”

“Come on Gyu,” Seungcheol scoffs. “I’ll let these two ditch, but this is Hansol’s last night in the city, I thought we could go to a roof on one of my new waterfront builds and hit some golf balls at the sea.”

“Right, because that’s very environmentally friendly,” Wonwoo tuts.

“Jesus, you are tired, aren’t you?” Seungcheol laughs. 

It’s a rhetorical question, and Wonwoo simply lifts another appetizer to his mouth, chewing with a tight-lipped grin. 

In truth, Wonwoo has been tired. You haven’t fucked since the first night of the seminar, and although that was only two days ago, you’re definitely feeling the loss. On top of that, being wined and dined and looked after always makes you hornier than usual, and Wonwoo has been extra ‘husband’ today.

He’s just so perfect. Well-mannered, kind, educated- 

God, you want him so bad.

You take a sip of your cocktail again before resting your hand on Wonwoo’s thigh, and he stops what he’s doing to look down at your fingers toying with his pants. Then his gaze rises to you, and he cocks his head slightly, obviously a little stunned by how forward you’re being tonight.

It’s such a small motion, but it speaks volumes, and when paired with a small flutter of your lashes, Wonwoo reads you like he reads the books in his impressive office library. 

Part of you wants to toy with him, wants to tease your touch up to his crotch just to see if you can get him hard at dinner with his friends, but you know that would lead to something akin to consequence. 

As easy as it is for Wonwoo to read you, he’s not such an open book and his reactions vary drastically. You don’t want to push your luck today, not after you’ve been such a good girl for him for three seminars straight.

You remove your hand before playing with fire gets you burned, and the two of you continue to finish your appetizers. Each bite is one step closer to leaving with Wonwoo, but you try to take your time, try not to be too glutenous to make way for lust. 

Wonwoo finished eating and he lifts his drink with his left hand, his right palm finding your thigh again. His touch is soothing, gentle, but it still stirs a fire within you.

You shift your knee, letting it rest against his, and you sip your cocktail trying to pay attention to what Mingyu’s saying about the stock market. 

Wonwoo is generally quite the stocks man. He pays attention to Mingyu, but you can tell his focus is still partially on you, and you reach down to play with his fingers, enjoying how pretty his hands are. 

You need him so badly. 

That’s when you realize Wonwoo has almost finished his drink, and you quickly grab at yours too, wanting to reach the bottom of your own cup. 

You’ve not been drinking since the seminar started, and the booze in your cocktail definitely heightens your senses. An electric tingle consumes your form, and it’s getting harder to ignore the panties sticking to your core. 

The conversation reaches a lull,  and Wonwoo lets out a sigh, squeezing your legs. “Well, it’s been fun,” he says, “but Honey and I should get going.”

“One more drink,” Seungcheol practically begs, already lifting a hand to call over a waiter.

“Not tonight,” Wonwoo says, soft but firm. 

He stands up first, grabbing your hand to help you out of your own seat. “Good luck with your flight tomorrow, Hansol,” he nods to the man on your right. 

“Good luck with wedding planning,” Hansol retorts, rising from his chair to pull you and Wonwoo into a hug. 

Hansol’s not usually a touchy guy, and the hug means something. It’s a true acceptance that you’re permanently a part of Wonwoo’s life, and it means the world to you. 

“Now I want a hug,” Mingyu also stands, holding out his arms for you and Wonwoo.

With a laugh, your fiance’s hand finds the small of your back and he guides you into Mingyu’s warm embrace, trapping you between their large bodies. 

Now you’re really turned on. 

Seungcheol doesn’t stand, he simply watches, lips all pouty. “Let me know about that penthouse,” he muses. “I’ve got some foreign buyers already wanting a walk through and I won’t hold it forever.”

“I’ll get back to you,” Wonwoo promises, giving one last nod to Seungcheol before he begins to guide you out of the restaurant.

As you make it to the front desk, Wonwoo stops and addresses the staff member there. “I’m going to take care of my table’s bill tonight.”

“I’ll put it on your tab, Mr. Jeon.” She nods, typing something into the ipad infront of her.

“That was kind of you,” you muse as Wonwoo escorts you into the elevator that will lead to the underground where his expensive Mercedes is parked.

“We’re leaving early, it’s the least I could do.”

“You know… I hope we didn’t leave on my account,” you say, thinking about the conversation you’d had in the car earlier.

Wonwoo leans down close to you, grinning. “I can safely say we left due to my own personal needs, although they’re not sleep-related.” 

“You really like this dress, don’t you, Daddy?” you smile, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck while his hands settle on your hips.

“I like what’s under it,” he retorts, which is a cheeky response by Wonwoo’s standards.

“Been missing my body, haven’t you?”

“More than you realize.”

Wonwoo had kept his composure on the drive home. He’d even kept his hands mostly to himself on the way up to your apartment, but your stoic lover is on you the moment the door to your home is closed behind you both.

He presses you up against the wall, grabbing your waist and tugging you close while simultaneously blocking you up against the hard surface at your back. His lips are hot against your own, his tongue invading your mouth and making you giggle as you grab the front of his shirt, already popping buttons open.

You release a moan when he reaches down and cups your core, pushing up your dress to access your lacey panties. “Where do you want it, honey?” he asks, biting at your lip.

“I don’t want to think tonight,” you admit, tired from days of brain power.

You love that Wonwoo likes to check in with you. He’s not the type to simply throw you over a kitchen counter and rail you when you might prefer the bed or even the shower- but at the same time, as soon as you give him full control, Wonwoo’s very good at taking charge.

“I’ll take care of you,” Wonwoo promises, pushing your panties to the side so he can slide two fingers against your heated core. You can feel how wet you are, and the contact against your clit has you whining, grabbing his face to bring his mouth to yours again while he pushes two digits knuckle deep into your aching core.

You’re sensitive from a few days without being touched, and it feels like heaven to have Wonwoo worshipping you like this again. You tangle your fingers in his hair as he draws his mouth down to your jaw then your throat, peppering your skin in kisses that have you shivering with pleasure.

“Daddy-” you whimper, your hips thrusting toward his hand as he works you open, palming your clit with delicious pressure. 

“I know, Honey, I know,” he soothes, and between gasped breaths and moans, you can hear your pussy squelching already. 

It’s getting harder and harder to stand on your shaky legs, your heels not meant for standing sex or heavy petting like this. But it’s also clear to you that Wonwoo has no intention of stopping his motions until you’ve cum on his fingers, so you do your best to grab his shoulders, steadying yourself while that wonderful feeling builds in the pit of your stomach. 

“I’ve missed this pussy,” Wonwoo tells you, voice low. It’s not often that he uses vulgarity, even in the bedroom, and his words betray how much he truly needs you. Your skin tingles with excitement, pussy throbbing, heart thundering in your chest-

It’s crazy how one sentence can nearly shortcircuit your brain when paired with Wonwoo using his hands like this- stroking the parts of you that he knows better than anyone else in the world.

Your fiance has taken his sweet time getting to know your body, and it shows in moments like these. 

“I’m so close-” you gasp, digging your nails into his shoulders. You should care about his expensive suit jacket, but you don’t- all that matters is the orgasm you’re desperately chasing, hips moving to ride Wonwoo’s hand while his unrelenting fingers get you closer and closer to the edge-

“Come on, honey,” Wonwoo grins, mouth returning to the spot on your neck that always makes you go feral, “cum for me.” 

One more rough thrust with his fingers has you moaning, tumbling past the edge as your orgasm overtakes you. 

If you’d nearly been falling over before this, you almost crumple to the floor with all the pleasure coursing through you now. Wonwoo’s free arm loops around your waist, and he presses you closer to the wall, keeping you propped up while his hand continues between your shaking thighs.

He releases a low groan, and you can feel his cock pressing through his pants by your hip. You feel delirious already, body pulsing, skin tingling. Wonwoo’s broad shoulders are your lifeline, and you grip them desperately, taking everything he has to give you like the good girl you are.

“Wonwoo-” you whimper, seeking out his lips, cupping his face to draw him closer. His tongue glides against your own, and you’re enough of a distraction that his fingers begin to slow inside of you.

Finally, he pulls his hand away from between your thighs, dragging his lips from yours so he can sink his digits into his mouth. You watch him lick them clean, listening to the groan of satisfaction that escapes him while you do your best to catch your breath.

“You’re always so good for me,” Wonwoo tells you, lifting his gaze to yours again. 

You swallow thickly, mind swimming, searching for a response. “You deserve it,” you assure him finally.

“And I know what you deserve tonight,” he retorts. 

In one quick motion, he lifts you up bridal style. One of your stilettos crashes to the floor from the sudden way your body has just been swung like a rag doll, but neither of you care as Wonwoo carries you through the apartment toward the bedroom.

You can’t help the giggle that escapes you. Wonwoo always makes you feel like a princess, and he looks like a classic prince while doing it. His side profile is so regal- all sharp bones and pretty lips. God- how did you ever get this lucky?

When you get to your destination, Wonwoo is gentle when he sets you onto the mattress. He straightens and looks down at your form, letting out a deep breath.

“Can you take that pretty dress off for me, honey?” he asks, already shrugging off his suit jacket and setting it over a chair nearby. 

“Of course, daddy,” you grin, reaching down to grab at the hem of the silky outfit, dragging it up your thigh.

His eyes are glued to you even as he works on his cuff links, and you take your sweet time as he makes it to the buttons of his shirt. The dress has a corset style back, and you tug on the ribbon before slowly working it open.

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything, but you can see his breathing pick up as the fabric gets less tight on your chest, revealing more and more of your bralessness. 

When he makes it to his pants, you remove the dress, leaving you in nothing but your thong, which is soaked through. 

Your fiance swallows thickly. “Panties too, honey. I don’t think I have the patience to wait any longer tonight.”

His lack of patience is clear in the way his cock slaps up against his abdomen, released by the pants now pooled by his feet.

Wonwoo looks like a fucking God, especially while naked. He’s lean but muscled, and you’ve spent hours tracing each ridge and bone. His cock is an impressive length of around seven inches, it’s pale like the rest of him, but when he’s really turned on, it flushes in colour.

Right now, his cock is a pinkish red, and you can see the angry tip already leaking desperately. 

You stand up, sneaking a kiss to his lips while hooking your fingers in your panties. Pushing them down, you get onto your knees.

“Honey, you don’t have to-”

“Maybe I’m impatient too, have you ever thought of that, daddy?” you ask, grabbing the base of his length and leaning forward to kitten lick the tip.

Wonwoo releases a low groan, reaching down to thread his fingers through your hair.

“I’ve missed you,” you murmur, enjoying the way he reacts when you kiss his cock gently. “Missed the weight of you in my mouth.”

“Fuck-”

It’s not often that Wonwoo curses, and the word goes straight to your core.

“Can I touch myself while I suck you off, daddy?” 

“I’d be upset if you didn’t,” he admits. “I want you dripping when I finally pull you off my cock and fuck you the way you like it.”

You whimper, your whole body alight with energy as you take him into your mouth. You’re already practically drooling from his fingers earlier and the dirty talk now, which makes it easy to coat him in spit. 

You’ve never been able to take all of Wonwoo in your mouth, but you do your best, gripping the base and bobbing your head while you begin to toy with your clit.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Wonwoo groans, taking a deep breath as his hand guides you on his cock. “Always so good for me.”

The praise only makes you suck on him harder. You sink so far down onto him that his tip hits the back of your throat. You feel yourself constrict around him and Wonwoo lets out a loud moan, fingers flexing in your hair. 

“Careful, honey, I don’t want you to choke,” he tells you, but his voice has lost it’s usual commanding tone. He’ll let you do anything you want to him, even if it means gagging on cock- but he’ll do his best to be gentle with you verbally at least.

You get lost in the feeling of pleasuring him, closing your eyes and letting your mouth show him how much you’ve missed him… however, not in so many words. 

Actions speak volumes, especially in this case.

You continue working on your pussy too, eventually slipping two fingers into your wet core, which makes you moan around Wonwoo’s cock.

“Honey-” he groans.

You can tell that he’s on the verge of breaking, so you pull off his length, looking up at him while catching your breath. “Ready to fuck me now, daddy?”

“I’ve been ready all night,” he grins, reaching down to grab your hand and help you to your feet. 

He kisses you then, cupping your face and leaning forward, taking your breath away all over again. His palm flatens against the small of your back and he dips you backward- then you’re falling, a small squeal escaping you-

The fall is only an inch or two, and you hit the mattress, Wonwoo bearing down on your form almost immediately. You grab at his shoulders as his lips find yours, your legs wrapping around his lean hips to tug him closer.

His cock is still wet with your spit, and it rubs deliciously through your soaked folds, bumping your clit and making you moan into the kiss.

As impatient as Wonwoo seemed to be, he’s not quick to adjust himself against you- or at least, not quick enough for your liking, so you reach between your bodies and grab his cock, lining him up with your wet hole. 

Wonwoo grins against your lips, and in one motion, he sinks into your core.

You moan loudly, digging your nails into his strong shoulders and throwing your head back as he fills you perfectly, stretching out your walls.

Your fiance takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, finding your sweet spot.

He feels like heaven- you’re really not sure how long you’ll be able to last tonight, but that’s never mattered with Wonwoo. You have forever with this man, which means you can be as fast or slow as you’d like to be.

He begins to thrust in and out of your core, and it makes you cry out again, walls contracting around his cock. You can feel him so deeply, especially as he adjusts your legs, pushing your thighs closer to your chest.

“Wonwoo-” you whimper, not a care in the world for using a ‘correct’ title. Your fiance might enjoy the daddy kink, but he’s never been the type to punish you for slipping up and calling him something different.

It’s clear to both of you how far gone you are, and Wonwoo only grins against your throat, picking up his pace.

“How about you rub your clit for me, honey?” he asks. 

You’re not one to question him, and your hand slips between your bodies to seak out the sensitive nub. More sounds of pleasure escape you as you begin to rub yourself, and your moans only push Wonwoo to fuck you harder.

Each thrust has his cock hitting a spot deep inside of you, and it’s making you delirious. 

Wonwoo finds your free hand, threading your fingers and using you as leverage as he presses you against the mattress. His breath is hot on your throat, but soon he’s seaking out your lips again, and you eagerly kiss him as if your life depends on it.

There’s an orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, spurred on by your fingers on your clit and the cock filling you up with each rough thrust.

Wonwoo doesn’t need to check in on you, and you don’t need to tell him you’re close, you’re certain he can tell. He tightens his grip on your hand, a silent invitation to let go whenever you want.

Each drag of his cock against your inner walls draws you closer and closer to the edge, and when he breaks the kiss to lick your throat, it allows you to focus entirely on the pleasure between your legs.

“Fuck, daddy-” you whimper, back arching as you shift below him.

“I know, honey,” he groans. “Me too.”

“Yeah?” Your body jitters with near orgasmic bliss. “Can you cum with me?”

“Of course, just tell me when.”

“Please-” you moan, writhing against the sheets as he fucks you even harder. “Please, daddy- I want you to fill me up-”

Wonwoo groans, teeth dragging by the sensitive skin of your throat. 

“Please, please- fuck, I’m almost there-” you rub your clit harder, body tensing on the precipice of your orgasm-

“Shit,” Wonwoo tightens his grip on your hand to the point where it almost hurts- and even though he doesn’t say it, it’s clear to you that he’s reached his own high.

The thought that Wonwoo is so turned on he’s just cum before you - something that never happens - is enough to drag you over the edge, your core clamping down on his cock, eager to milk him for everything he’s worth while you cry out in ecstasy. 

He’s gasping against your throat, thrusts even deeper now- slow, steady little ruts as he coats your insides with him cum, filling you up perfectly. 

You get lost in the feeling of him, squeezing his hand back as a silent encouragement while your pussy continues to squeeze his cock, eager to get every last drop.

When he finally comes to a stop, he simply lays on top of you for a moment, the both of you breathing heavily.

“Wonwoo?”

“Yes, honey?”

“I’ve just remembered-” you pull your hand away from your clit, instead moving to stroke his hair, “What did Seungcheol mean about the penthouse you were looking at?”

Wonwoo lets out a small chuckle. “Do you really want me to spoil the surprise?”

“Yes, please.”

Your fiance pulls away from your throat, looking down at you. “I’ve been thinking we might need a bigger place… one that could accommodate a few extra rooms.”

“Extra rooms?” you cock a brow.

“For any kids we might have, you know, after we’re married.” 

Your entire body tingles with excitement. 

While the two of you have talked about children in a general manner before, nothing has ever been set in stone. But you suppose now that you’re engaged, it’s natural this sort of thing would be on Wonwoo’s mind.

“How do you feel about that?” Wonwoo asks.

“I feel like…” you swallow thickly, “I want you to fill me up again, and also that I should book a doctor's appointment to discuss going off birth control.”

“I can definitely help you with that first one,” Wonwoo grins, pressing chaste kisses all across your face while you giggle and hold him tighter.

“We’re really doing this,” you whisper.

Wonwoo’s thumb brushes by the ring on your wedding finger. “Honey, I couldn’t imagine doing it with anyone else.”

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🔮 preview. You pull away just as his lips are about to meet yours. “You know how appreciative I am whenever daddy gets me a present,” you say, acting innocent. This only makes him laugh, and he grabs the back of your head, pulling you into a passionate kiss. You know buying things for you does the same thing to Wonwoo that it does to you. He loves seeing the excitement in your eyes, the way you light up at gifts. He truly lives to provide for you. 

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, mentions of breeding kink/wanting to get reader pregnant, sugar daddy Wonwoo, daddy kink, soft dom!Wonwoo, oral, pussy eating, fingering, breif edging, squirting, groping, sickly sweet loved up sex, crying during sex cuz reader is so in love, mentions of pain kink, hair pulling, teasing, dirty talk, fucking on a kitchen counter, Wonwoo talks about reader getting ‘plump’ with pregnancy, he adores the ‘soft bits’, etc.  I petnames. (hers) honey (his) daddy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 4k I teaser wc. 300

🌙 staring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader

bonus

“Can I take this off yet?” you ask, wobbling in your heels as you grab at the silk blindfold blocking your vision.

“Be patient, honey,” Wonwoo breathes in your ear, his hands firm on your hips as he guides you to whatever surprise destination he has in store for you tonight. 

Christmas is a week away, and the last time he blindfolded you like this was for your birthday. He’d taken you to a Mercedes dealership to let you choose any car you wanted. You have no clue what he has in store for you now, and you’re practically shaking with excitement. 

You know he’s driven you somewhere, and you’ve been in an elevator, so it must not be another car- your list of gift possibilities is somewhat thin. You have a hunch, but you don’t want to get ahead of yourself just in case you’re wrong about where your fiance is leading you. 

Wonwoo’s lips find your throat, and his hands stop you in your tracks. His breath is hot by your ear a moment later, and he lets out something like a contented sigh. “Okay. Let me help you take this off.” 

His deft fingers work at the loose knot behind your head; soon the blindfold slips away.

Your eyes adjust to the light, and you blink while taking in the space in front of you. You’re in a large open-concept kitchen, a living room sprawled in front of you with views of the whole city. The decor is lavish luxury, and you recognize the design concept as a Choi Seungcheol special when you notice a specific lighting fixture that Cheol puts in all his expensive builds. 

“Wonwoo-” you breathe, mind spinning.

The man behind you flattens his chest against your back, wrapping his arms around your frame while he rests his head on your shoulder. “Do you like it?”

“Is this…”

“It’s ours,” your fiance confirms. “I wanted to show it to you on Christmas day, but I couldn’t help myself.”

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[dollwrites]

ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪᴛʏ ! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ʀᴀғᴀʏᴇʟ

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻���𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!bff!reader, sex toys mentioned but not used, noise control, dub con technically ( for him… kinda TRUST THE PROCESS ) prank gone wrong for reader lol, creampie, has absolutely no spoilers or deep lore, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. HAPPY 4/20! i was gonna do some dizzy drabbles but i couldn’t get this out of my head. not proofread ( and written when i was in the clouds ) so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

what had started out as a fun prank on your best friend for revenge ended with you completely at his mercy, unbeknownst to him.

picking up around the studio wasn’t something you did too often, considering it a breach of Rafayel’s privacy, but when you got there and he wasn’t home, you let yourself inside like you usually did. you were about an hour early, anyways. you hadn’t taken two steps when you stumble over a pile of crumpled sketch paper. you scrunched your brows as you gazed around your environment. scattered brushes, broken pencils, and a canvas half-painted in the middle of the floor. you sighed; perhaps Rafayel had hit a wall with his muse and had gone for a walk on the beach. the least you could do for him, you’d decided, was to clean up a bit. after all, a clean space is a productive space, right?

that was when you came across it, left carelessly on his bed, swaddled in a sea of white sheets and the comforter. you’d never seen one in real life until this moment, and at first you mistook it for a woman asleep in his bed with her butt sticking out of the blankets— but, it was fake. a plump, nearly life sized ass sitting atop the mattress.

does Rafayel really use something like this?

you found your cheeks heated up with embarrassment when you pictured him mounting it, both of his smooth palm against the cheeks, svelte digits digging into the silicone to spread it open wide enough for him to push inside…

shaking your head to snap yourself out of the fantasy, you look around, making sure no one was around to see you get lost in your own desire for him. “S—stupid.” you muttered to yourself, stepping closer to touch the fleshiest part of it. surprisingly soft, as soft as your own skin. your brow quirks, fingers sliding to the waistband of a pair of cerulean, lace panties that adorned the faux lower body. it seemed so strange to have clothes on something that was meant to stay hidden and used in private, as if the silicone slab had been laid out meticulously…

no, Rafayel didn’t use this for his own pleasure, you decided. this was a prank. an elaborate one, but one meant to fluster you when you came over.

he was such an ass!

“Oh yeah?” you challenge under your breath, grasping the panties and tugging them off of the toy, “You want to play games? I can play, too.” determined to outprank Rafayel, you toss the panties on the bed and stash the toy beneath the bed. it was surprisingly heavy, and made a splat when it hit the surface of the floor, you had to stifle a chuckle as just hilarious this was. you didn’t want him to win, even if he wasn’t there to see it. quickly unbuttoning your pants, you discard them and the panties you were wearing, kicking them under the bed, too. then, you grab the cerulean lace and pull them on— perfect fit! you took a moment to glance in a nearby mirror, turning slightly. your ass had a similar curve and complexion, and you hoped it was enough to fool him, at least long enough for you to scare him when he least expected it. then, you climb into the bed, scrupulous as you nest your top half under a pile of blankets, the pillows resting on the top of your shoulders to hide your head. there was also the issue with your legs. it took a great amount of wrapping sheets around your thighs as you kick and squirm, before you’re finally perfectly positioned— identical to the way he’d left the fake ass, your own sticks out as if inviting him, as you wait for him to return.

at first, it had been difficult to keep yourself from jittering, too excited to see the look on his face when you jump out, effectively one-upping his lewd joke. but, as the minutes ticked on, with your entire body hidden within his bedding, you’d started to sweat, breathing in the dense air trapped under the pillows with you, and you had to readjust several times. it took so long that you were just about to give up on the prank and unbury yourself, before you heard the door open.

showtime.

you felt knots of excitement tying themselves together in your belly as you willed yourself to be as still as possible, and appear as the lifeless, silicone toy.

you could hear him moving about the studio, sighing, and your heart was starting to beat faster in your ears— you hoped that he would hurry to his room, so you could reveal yourself soon, and you could get out from under this suffocating duvet.

when he’d stepped into the bedroom, you hear the door close behind him, and you have to physically keep yourself from kicking your feet in excitement. it was almost time to scare the living daylights out of your best friend. your muscles tighten, ready to jump up, but a sound abruptly stops you.

a zipper.

you freeze, listening silently to the sound of rusting fabric. soft thuds as he kicked out of his shoes, and a whoosh that follows towards the floor.

was he undressing?

your eyes widen only when you hear a heavy breath, followed by the click of a cap. squeezing, then a low moan coming from behind you. it was Rafayel. your eyes widen. you’d never heard such a sound from his mouth, and you had a pretty good idea of what he was doing. the subtle skin slapping that started slow, but sped up shortly after, his breath getting heavier simultaneously. you realized how wrong it was to hear Rafayel pleasuring himself, especially when he didn’t know that you were there. you should really say something, open your mouth and let him know that he wasn’t alone, but when your lips parted, you couldn’t force any sound from it. you were too stunned by these sounds to give him any kind of warning. you listen, mouth agape and eyes big, staring into the headboard of his bed as he takes a few steps towards the foot of it. your mind races, realizing that he had not placed the toy on his bed for you to find it—

this had not been a toilet-humor prank that he was putting together. he simply hadn’t had the time to hide his private toys before you stumbled upon them.

to solidify this revelation, you feel one hand tracing over the shape of your ass. his fingers were warm and slick, and you nearly gasped, sealing your lips just in time for his digits to curl around the panties and tug on them, inching down your thighs. he would definitely discover you were disguising yourself as the toy when he couldn’t take them all the way off, and that thought was equally humiliating and comforting. you didn’t exactly love the idea of him finding out now, after exposing your cunt to him, and now that you’d gotten an earful of him jerking off, but at least things wouldn’t go further. Rafayel doesn’t, however, try to pull the panties down completely. instead, he seems content to leave them around your thighs, and his fingers trace upwards, slowly and skillfully, until they trace your netherlips, slathering your sex in what had to be lube, cool and wet.

oh, god. your top teeth sink into your lower lip as his fingertips swipe full laps between your folds. the pads rub against your most sensitive nub, leaving it throbbing and begging for more attention before they drag downwards, teasing your opening. he didn’t seem to notice that your cunt spasms, attempting to clamp down on his fingers, before they run another lap. he lets out a heavy breath, the sound of his palm smacking against his abdomen as he fucks his own hand in tandem to the way he was unknowingly teasing your pussy making your head spin.

this was so wrong.

you had to tell him right now.

your tiers part once more, this time determined to stop this before—

the swollen, slippery head of Rafayel’s cock rubs against your slit. one hand covers your mouth to keep any sound, words or otherwise, from escaping as you realize that it’s too late to expose yourself now. you’d look like a total creep, taking advantage of your best friend by pretending to be his sex toy. “Huh—uhh…” Rafayel emitted a low moan as he rubbed his dick against you a few more times, before planting one palm on your ass, the other holding tight to his base as he plunged inside.

it took all you had within you to not let out a cry of surprise at the sudden entry. your free hand grips the sheet so tightly you fear your nails will rip holes in it, and your toes curl beneath the mattress. Rafayel had been under the impression that he could be as rough as he wanted, because the pussy was nothing but a silicone replica, and so his rhythm was steady, deep pumping almost immediately upon bottoming out in your guts. “Fuck,” he breathes out, hips thumping against your ass, both hands grasping at it. “F—feels good… yeah,”

he was right about that, and you wished you could vocalize it. your walls fluttered about in delight as he pounded into you, his cock was longer than you’d thought it would be, the tip bold in its deep exploration, prodding against your g-spot with every, full thrust of his hips. you fought the urge to bounce back, meet his movements with equally eager grinding. instead, your eyes began to roll and your lids flittered, and the grip on your own mouth tightened to keep any of your stifled mewls and whimpers from escaping. you couldn’t, however, keep from gushing when he hit the perfect depth with his fervent stroking, and you could only hope that his thorough drenching you in lubrication would be enough to mask this.

you could hear him panting, moaning, swearing, as he fucked you with reckless abandon. his fingers digging into your warm, satin skin, his cock twitching and throbbing inside you. it was as if you felt every, single vein as they rub your walls, autographing your insides, claiming them as his as he uses you.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…!”

he was getting louder, his hips bucking more powerfully, more erratically, and the throbbing in your core was a testament to just how close to cumming he was.

you knew how wrong this was, but all rational thinking was dissipating; you were enjoying being fucked like this; greedy, careless pounding, by your closest friend too much to ruin it, now. you didn’t want to stop it, not until he was fully satiated.

“F—fuck, yeah,” Rafayel swoons, grabbing full fists of your ass, pulling your ass back to meet his hungry hip-snapping, “more, more, more!”

you couldn’t take much more, and you push your face into the mattress to keep quiet, both hands scrambling to hold on to something, squeezing the edge of the mattress with your nails sinking in— anything to relieve the pressure he was forcing as deep into you as he could. your feet wanted to kick, your back wanted to arch, and you wanted to scream out in pure pleasure, so you clung to the bed as tightly as you could in hopes that you could ride out the orgasm he was ripping from you.

he didn’t even seem to notice your twitching and subtle squirming beneath the blankets as he made you drop off and come undone, which you were thankful for, because he was too caught up in chasing his own high. “Gonna cum, gonna cum!” Rafayel was sputtering, desperately trying to get there, pressing all of his weight against your ass as he pumps a few more, deep and hard, thrusts into you before he grunts, and releases. as if he’d been pent up for quite a while, you felt a spattering of warmth, and then it spreads as he fills your belly with his essence. you nearly lose it in this moment, and almost blow your cover, your walls clamping down on his cock as he starts to retract. it felt so good to be full of Rafayel that you didn’t want him to pull out, but he does so with a ragged moan. there’s an uncomfortable emptiness that follows his abandoning of your cunt, the feeling of being fucked deep and left there, your oblivious best friend’s cum dribbling out of your used pussy as it twitches and your muscles stay tense. you knew you were leaving a small puddle on his sheets below you, but you could hear him milling around the room instead of focusing on you, now.

“Damn,” he mutters to himself, and you his phone unlock, then the rapid-fire tapping of his fingers on the keys. was he… texting?

you were answered when you heard the faint vibrating of your phone in your pants pocket, hidden under the bed. he texted you?! at first, you think he must’ve heard it, because everything went silent, and you waited for him to start shouting, but he doesn’t.

a few moments later, the door opens, and his footsteps fade as he swaggers down the corridor, satiated, and a moment later, you hear the shower turn on.

for the first time in several minutes, your muscles relax for a moment, before you swim out from your heated prison in a hurry, scrambling under the bed to grab your phone. every move you made, you could feel his release swirling around inside you and dribbling down your thighs, and you groan at the sensation, and the trail you made before you pulled the panties up to keep any more from leaving evidence. staring at the screen, panting and fucked out, your eyes barely focusing, you read the message in disbelief.

just woke up so i’m running late. stop on the way and buy lunch or something i’m starving

liar.

but you didn’t have time to dwell on the message; you get dressed as quickly as you can, what with your legs trembling like shaken jelly and your insides sore from Rafayel’s eager plowing, and hoist the fake butt back into place on top of the bed. you had to make a stealthy exit before he got out of the shower. stuffing your own panties into your pocket, you decide the best way to avoid an even stickier mess on his floor that would certainly be noticeable, you had to wear the panties meant for the doll. you could only pray he didn’t realize they’d gone missing right away, and later today when you could sneak away to the bathroom, you’d put them back in place.

so, stumbling and trying to catch your breath, freshly fucked, you leave through the sliding back door, the one that faces the shoreside, and closes it behind you to complete your escape.

once outside, you exhale deeply, lean against his car, hidden from windows’ views, to evaluate the damage, beyond the mess of him in your panties. you groan, covering your face with both hands in belated guilt.

you could never, ever tell him about this!

[frehyun]

Cursed Eyes

medusa!hyunjin x fem!reader

warnings: mention of murder, petrification (hyunjin's really sweet i promise) (if I missed anything lmk!)

word count: 2,4k

divider by @kawaii-lau

author's note: this is the first full thing I've written in years and the first time I've published something, so I'm really nervous! i really wanted to get back into writing and actually put myself out there so i guess this is it! i hope someone out there likes this and feel free to let me know what you think :) also not really edited much lol

masterlist | Part 2

Ever since you were a child, the elders in your village weaved incredible and awe-inducing stories about the Gods and their benevolent deeds to those who chose to worship them. Stories of how a child miraculously survived an illness that the village doctor deemed as lethal and incurable, of how a farmer who had lost all his sheep to wolves instead found his fields growing the biggest and most luscious vegetables and fruits that would not only feed his own family but also anyone he chooses to trade with.

All these stories always fascinated you. You found comfort in them, believing that if you were as devoted to your Gods as the other villagers are, you could experience a miracle yourself.

As you grew older, the elders would also entrust you with much darker stories, telling of wars, demons and monsters that could even live amongst men.

There’s humour to be found in thinking about your childhood story times in a moment like this, desperately hiding amongst the broken pillars and bushes that scratched your knees up.

The warm midday sun shone through the crowns of the trees, making the tears streaming down your face glimmer in the light. Your eyes squeezed shut as you heard the hissing of snakes slowly creep closer.

One story was particularly popular amongst the elders and was retold many times over in the years you’ve spent alive. The story of an ethereally beautiful man residing in the nearby woods that could seduce both men and women alike to dare themselves to come closer to his domain. When they came closer however, they would soon realise that there was no new muse or lover to be found, only their demise, as the hissing of snakes swallowed any sound they could make before their entire body was encased in solid stone.

“You’re the first one to hide for so long, I have to say I’m impressed” – the sultry voice somewhere behind you said.

The delicate steps atop the shattered stone tiles came ever closer before halting. You’re sure he must be directly behind your pillar, your ears precise as ever.

“Unfortunately, I’m in no mood to hunt for an awfully long time today. Playtime’s over, sweetheart.”

A surprisingly warm hand snaked its way around your arm, yanking you upwards and into a solid body.

“It’s always the same with you” – the creature whispered before two strong, but slender hands cupped your face, yet you made no effort to defend yourself.

A long sigh left his lips as he gazed into your eyes, waiting for the curse to set in and turn you into a statue he could add to his collection. You would be one of the prettiest he had in his garden.

Yet even as the minutes passed and the sun started to set, nothing happened.

No stone that would slowly destroy and take over your delicate skin, starting from your eyes and outwards. No last words that were whispered into his embrace as his gaze slowly shifted from anger to sorrow.

You stood solid but softly against him, keeping your eyes locked on him but unfocused, he noticed.

The man’s brows furrowed and his grip on you softened.

“Tell me”, he broke the silence suddenly, making you jump in his hold, “is this a test? Has the village concocted something to counter this curse?”

His tone was curious, maybe a bit irritated, yet his voice wavered. It was almost as if the creature that everyone in your village was scared of whatever answer you would give him.

His eyes flitted between yours nervously, studying your face for any sort of sincerity, a sign for him that you were not here to ultimately bring him to his demise like all the others. He was tired. He didn’t want you to be just like all the others. The gorgon did not know how many more statues he could look at every day before his heart finally broke apart and the strength to continue on with this life would leave him.

You were confused at the question. Why did he sound so…sad? Was this really the monster that your village was so afraid of? If he was, why didn’t he kill you already?

It was true that your village had unceremoniously dumped you into the woods and gave you the mission of finding out whether you were immune to the monster’s curse. Seeing as you are still alive, you think you accomplished that mission. However, you didn’t drink any potion or ate anything extraordinary that could counteract whatever this monster was capable of. For some reason, you didn’t want to lie to him.

“Yes”, you breathed and you felt him tense up, his fingernails digging into your arms again, so you quickly continued, “but I don’t know why I’m… I didn’t want to.”

“You didn’t want to?”

You shook your head.

“I’m different from them, so they wanted to test their theory that I might survive an encounter with you and, I guess, use that knowledge against you.”

He let go of you, taking a few steps away from you to create a protective distance between the two of you. His soft footsteps resounded throughout the ruins you were standing in. He was pacing, you noted.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I really don’t”, you had hoped you could soothe his nerves – preserve your own life a little bit longer. Your panic from earlier had already dissipated and was replaced with an uncertainty as to how to deal with this situation. The monster that had plagued your village for years, terrified children, urged parents to strictly tell their offspring to never go near the woods, was pacing nervously in front of you, because you were a threat to him.

Hyunjin was too busy thinking of every single possibility, every single choice he could make and every consequence that could come from it to notice you approaching him. When your hand collided clumsily with his bicep his eyes flitted back to you.

That’s when some of the things about you made some sense, he thought as he looked into your eyes properly for the first time.

You weren’t really looking at him. You haven’t been for the entire time he’s been talking to you, but he was too consumed by his own weird mixture of fear and anger to notice anything about you.

Huh.

You were blind.

Is that what made you practically immune to him? Whoever gazed into his alluring eyes would slowly turn to stone. That’s how it’s always been. But you were clearly different. A threat. Someone he should take and destroy before anyone else finds out how to circumvent his curse and hurts him again. And yet he wavered as your soft fingers curled around his arm not to possess, hurt or take from him but simply holding him as if he would break if you dug your fingers too deep into his flesh.

Something in his fragile heart shattered.

You weren’t really planning on staying with him. Not really. But something shifted in his demeanor towards you, he seemed softer when he gently took your hand and told you to trust him as he guided you inside of the ruins.

“You know”, he starts, and you startle a bit, “you’re the first one that doesn’t try to run. Or hurt me.”

Your heart aches at the admission. For some reason that goes against your survival instincts, you squeeze his hand in silent support, too afraid to speak up and say something wrong that would put him back into a frenzy.

“Are you not afraid?”

“Not anymore.”

He hums and it’s a pleasant tone. Soft and melodic and you want to hear more of his voice.

“What’s your name?” – you cautiously ask.

“Hyunjin.”

“Hyunjin”, you test his name on your tongue and decide it’s a good one. “That’s a pretty name. Mine’s Y/N.”

He lets out a soft ‘oh’ as if he didn’t expect you to tell him your own name or the compliment. Or both.

Hyunjin is aware you cannot really see what he’s showing you, but he would like to do it anyway. That’s how you two find yourselves wandering around the garden that he so meticulously kept near the ruins where you first found him. He tells you of the flowers and vegetables that grow in certain areas that he takes care of. But he also tells you, in a much more careful and anxious tone, about the statues of people who tried to take his home or his life in the past.

It should scare you. He’s essentially killed all these people. You should run. But where would you even run to? Where could a blind girl whose village decided she was expendable go? And even if you did make it back to the village unharmed – you’re sure Hyunjin would not harm you, even if he knew where you were fleeing to – you would either have to make them believe the monster did not show up to take the willing sacrifice or sell Hyunjin out and lead him to his eventual death.

The gentle monster in front of you broke you out of your thoughts with a sigh.

“I also take care of all the statues… the people here. It’s not easy to keep the stone clean but it’s the least I can do for them until someone finds out how to break them free. I hope they like where I placed them.”

At his words you cautiously reached out a hand towards where Hyunjin was speaking to and were soon met with warm stone. It was pleasantly warm. The kind of warmth you experience on a beautiful, sunny day.

“I’m sure they do. I hope they know you’re not entirely at fault for what happened to them. You were only trying to protect yourself.”

A soft hissing sound came from Hyunjin’s direction, and he slightly jumped, murmuring something in a scolding tone seemingly directed at no one.

The man sighed again.

“Do you mind meeting someone else?” – he finally whispered.

You tilted your head at the question, wondering if he had someone like him living here.

At your hesitant nod, he leaned slightly towards you and soon after something you were entirely sure was a snake softly touched your cheek.

“This…um, is my hair...?” - he sounded as if he wasn’t quite sure of that himself as he said it. “They’re friendly, though!”

You giggled at his panicked state, reaching out to to gently pet the snake that had braved its way towards you. It was surprisingly warm and friendly. Maybe from his own body warmth?

Experimentally you lifted your hand to reach towards Hyunjin himself, reaching out to lay your hand against the side of his neck and although he jolts at the sudden touch, he soon relaxes in your hold and lets you caress him. A soft sigh escaped his lips as you cradle his cheek and he chases your touch as you move to lift your hand away, so you decided to keep it there, holding him. A small smile appeared on your face and Hyunjin thinks in this moment that you were the most beautiful thing to grace his cursed eyes.

Does he even deserve this kind of gentleness? Someone to pick up the pieces of his scarred and shattered heart and put it back together until he could allow himself to feel safety and softness?

Maybe he deserved to be selfish like this.

It had been a couple of days since you and Hyunjin started spending your time together, having decided that keeping you around was safer for the two of you. When you voiced your concerns over other villagers trying their best to take him down again, and potentially you by extension, he waved your concerns away, assuring you that he was more than capable of protecting the two of you, given his already existing track record of living through every single encounter with one of the so-called ‘brave warriors’.

Living with Hyunjin was better than you could’ve imagined. The forest was vast, and your hometown wasn’t the only village that resided at the ends of it.

Hyunjin eventually decided to tell you that there were only two villages that were actively trying to take down the evil that he was. The other two revered him and regularly gave him an abundance of food and other things as sacrifices, so they could continue to live in his good graces.

He was incredibly thankful to them, he told you as you two sat upon one of the stones that made up the broken temple that he lived in, the two of you enjoying a late lunch made up of a variety of fruits and cheese.

“I don’t really need to hunt for myself or think about stealing to sustain myself. I’m really glad that not everyone runs after me with spears and bows in hand just because of the way I was born” – his hand came to rest near yours on the sun-warmed stone and you desperately wanted to stretch your fingers to touch his.

“Did nobody ever offer to take you in? Or accept you as one of the villagers? They do seem to at least care an awful lot about you if they give you this much food every week.”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Your hand eventually came to rest over his. You weren’t sure if it was for your comfort or for his. When he didn’t move away and simply hummed under his breath, you became emboldened and properly took his hand into yours, tracing idle patterns into the back of it.

He moved his body around so that your legs were touching and Hyunjin wished for nothing more than to grab you by your waist and have you sit on his lap to hold you close.

“You’re a lot prettier than the flowers I keep here.”

“Oh yeah?” – you giggled, also taking his other hand into yours.

“Mhm. The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Have you seen many?”

“Does it matter?” – he grinned boyishly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering a second too long by your cheek.

You pouted at him for his vague answer, your jutted lips a perfect invitation for a kiss that Hyunjin doesn’t feel like refusing. He leans forward while his snakes purposefully start reaching out towards you as well, snuggling against the sides of your head. His plump lips touch yours in a shy chaste kiss, his arms encircling your waist as he pulls you closer against his body.

In the warm afternoon sun, you held a monster’s heart in your hands and promised to keep it safe.

[bangchansdirty-slut]

My Dopamine

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Paring: Top!Giselle x Member!Bttm! Reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: Giselle wrote "Dopamine" about you and couldn't help but express what the song is really about when you asked her.

More: Masterlist

A/n: I couldn't stop listening to Dopamine by Giselle and Roses by Jaehyun while writing this. I might be obsessed with these songs. Also, should I write fan fiction based on the other members' solo songs?

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Giselle sat on the couch on the stage, the lights dimming around her as the music began to swell. The audience, a sea of waving lightsticks, was entranced by the opening notes of her solo performance. She took a deep breath, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. This was the moment she had been waiting for, a chance to showcase her own voice and her own story. As she opened her mouth to let the lyrics flow, she thought about the inspiration behind the song. Her eyes searched the shadows offstage, finding the familiar figure of Y/n, who was watching her intently.

The words of "Dopamine" spilled from Giselle's lips, each syllable a declaration of the intense passion she felt for her secret lover. Her rap was sharp and precise, the bass vibrating through the stadium as she spit verses filled with desire and lust. She knew Y/n would recognize the subtle references to their clandestine encounters, the way she spoke of her body as if it were a sacred text that only the two of them could read. The chorus hit, and Giselle's gaze held steady on Y/n, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper as she sang about the taste of her, the feel of her, the way she was Giselle's dopamine fix.

Backstage, Y/n felt a rush of heat as the realization dawned on her. Her eyes widened as she watched Giselle perform, her cheeks flushing at the explicit nature of the lyrics. She knew that the other members and the staff wouldn't catch on, but for her, it was as if the song was a love letter played out for the world to see. Her heart raced, her breath shallow, as she listened to the words that painted a vivid picture of their secret moments together. The crowd roared their approval, and Y/n couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement and exposure at the same time.

After the concert, the members of Aespa made their way back to their hotel. The energy of the show still pulsed through their veins as they chattered about the performance, but Y/n remained quiet, lost in thought. When they finally reached their hotel room, she turned to Giselle, her eyes searching for any signs of embarrassment or regret. Instead, she found only a smoldering gaze that sent a bolt of desire straight to her core. Giselle's smirk grew wider as she leaned in, her voice a seductive whisper that sent shivers down Y/n's spine. "You know that song was all about your delicious body, don't you?"

Before Y/n could respond, Giselle closed the distance between them and pushed her onto the bed. With surprising strength, she tugged at Y/n's skirt, revealing the matching set of lacy panties she had picked out earlier. Her eyes gleamed with hunger as she pulled the fabric aside and bent her head to kiss the soft skin of Y/n's inner thighs. "I just couldn't keep it to myself anymore," Giselle murmured, her breath hot against Y/n's skin. "You're my muse, my addiction."

Y/n's eyes rolled back in her head as Giselle's tongue darted out to trace her folds. She had always been sensitive, but with Giselle's expert touch, it felt like every nerve was on fire. Her moans grew louder, filling the room as Giselle's mouth moved closer to the spot she craved. Giselle's hands were everywhere, now they're holding her hips in place as she explored her with a hunger that was unmatched.

Their eyes locked, and in that moment, Y/n felt a surge of power. Despite being the one on her back, she knew she had just as much control in this situation as Giselle did. She reached down, her fingers tangling in Giselle's hair, and pushed her face closer to her wetness. Giselle's eyes sparkled with challenge, but she didn't hesitate. Her tongue delved into Y/n's core, making her gasp and arch off the bed. The sensation was intense, a perfect blend of pleasure and pressure that had Y/n's legs shaking and her toes curling.

Giselle's ministrations grew more fervent, her tongue swirling and flicking against Y/n's clit with a precision that spoke of countless hours of practice. Y/n's moans grew louder, echoing through the hotel room like a siren's call. She felt Giselle's hand slip up her tank top, seeking out her hardened nipples. The pinching and twisting sent a jolt of pleasure straight to her pussy, and she bucked her hips against Giselle's face. The world outside of their embrace faded away, leaving only the two of them in a cocoon of lust and desire.

Y/n's breath hitched as Giselle's teeth grazed her sensitive bud, and she couldn't help but let out a loud cry. The sound seemed to spur Giselle on, her movements becoming more insistent. Y/n felt her orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure that threatened to consume her. She gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles white with the effort to hold on, her eyes squeezed shut as if to keep the intensity within. But it was too much, and she shattered, her body convulsing with the force of her release.

Giselle looked up at Y/n, a smug smile playing on her lips, as the latter lay panting and trembling beneath her. "You're mine, Y/n," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. "Every inch of you is my dopamine." She began to strip away her own clothes, revealing her toned body and the matching lingerie she had chosen for the evening. Y/n felt a mix of excitement and vulnerability as she watched Giselle's confidence grow.

They settled into a 69 position, Y/n eager to return the favor. But Giselle's own arousal was a distraction. Her scent filled the air, and Y/n's mouth watered at the thought of tasting her. She tried to focus on Giselle's pussy, but her own need was still so raw and demanding. Giselle's fingertips danced across her clit, sending waves of pleasure through her body, making it impossible to concentrate.

Giselle's moans grew louder as Y/n's mouth worked on her. Her tongue lapped and swirled, trying to mimic the moves that had brought her to the edge just moments before. But Giselle was relentless, her fingers moving faster, pressing harder, until Y/n's world narrowed to the point between her legs. Her hips began to move, grinding into Giselle's mouth, her moans becoming cries.

Y/n squirted again, the warmth of her release coating Giselle's mouth and chin. Giselle pulled back, licking her lips clean with a satisfied smile. "Baby you need to please me too," she whispered,, her voice filled with need. Y/n nodded, feeling the urgency building within her as well. They shifted, and Giselle is now straddling Y/n's face, her pussy hovering just above her mouth. Y/n opened her eyes and took in the sight of her lover, her body begging for more.

Giselle's pussy was a masterpiece, wet and swollen from desire. Y/n eagerly dove in, her tongue darting out to taste her. Giselle's hips began to rock immediately, setting a rhythm that had both of them moaning in pleasure. Giselle's hand found Y/n's hair, guiding her movements, as she worked her own clit with the other hand. Y/n's own arousal grew, her pussy throbbing in response to the sound of Giselle's pleasure.

The taste of Giselle was like nothing she had ever experienced, a heady mix of sweet and salty that made Y/n feel high. She felt Giselle's muscles tighten around her face as she brought her closer to the brink. The scent of their combined desire was intoxicating, filling the room and making it difficult to think about anything but the moment. Giselle's thighs trembled, and Y/n knew she was close.

With a final, desperate thrust of her hips, Giselle came hard, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. She collapsed onto the bed next Y/n, panting and smiling. The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with the scent of arousal. Y/n looked up at her, eyes glazed over with lust, her mouth still slick with Giselle's juices.

Giselle came closer and kissed Y/n, the taste of their shared pleasure mingling on their tongue. Y/n's body was still humming with the aftershocks of her own climax, but she craved more. Giselle lets go and stands up, her eyes never leaving Y/n's. "Let's go shower," she suggests with a wink, her voice husky from the passionate exchange.

Y/n nods, her legs wobbly as she stands. They walk into the bathroom, the tiles cold against their bare feet, the contrast making their skin tingle with excitement. The shower is already steaming up the room, and Giselle steps in, holding out a hand to help Y/n in. The water cascades down their bodies, washing away the sweat and the evidence of their desire. They stand under the spray, kissing deeply, their bodies pressed together as the water runs over their curves.

[scarletriddles]

Lost in the fire ˚༄ | S.R

↳ in which the team’s newest case puts your life in jeopardy, at your own accord.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

genre: angst, sprinkle of fluff

warnings: general cm gore/case discussion, fire/arson, injuries related to fire, swearing, references to religion + greek mythology, friends to…? (they’re in la-la-la-love, your honour), some possible inaccuracies (sorry!), small jemily mention because lesbian rights, hopeful ending, use of she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, second person narrative.

word count: 4.3k

a/n: my first ever fic i’m very nervy🫣i’m not expecting this to gain any sort of traction, but lmk how you find it, i suppose!

“Haley Bradstone, aged twenty-five, and Laura Kilmey, aged twenty-seven, are the most recent victims in a series of murders in Detroit, Michigan. Both victims were discovered four days apart, and only five miles away from each other, their bodies disposed of in black FIBC bulk bags that were left in trash-sites.” JJ pauses, her gaze flickering between the team, almost hesitant as her thumb circles the silver remote. But, with a clearing of her throat, she continues. “Cause of death for both victims has been ruled asphyxiation…by smoke inhalation.”

You abruptly halt toying with the frayed edges of the case file, your eyebrows shooting up and head lifting to look at her, and then also at the rest of the team - who look just as bewildered.

“Sorry, did you just say smoke inhalation?” You ask, genuine confusion weighing down your tone.

JJ nods, her expression dismayed as she eyes the two beaming faces displayed on the board. “Yes, as laid out in the case files, high levels of carbon monoxide, hydrogen cyanide and hydrogen sulphide were found in both victim’s lungs. The coroner also noted soot around the victim’s faces, and TBSA burns, all of which are synonymous with death via smoke inhalation.”

“Carbon monoxide poisoning is actually the leading cause of death in smoke inhalation - causing approximately 2,100 deaths in the U.S each year.” Spencer adds, followed by his familiar flat smile, which he usually does when he doesn’t know what to do with his face - which happens to be always.

You blink, with a slight quirk to your lips, despite the circumstances. Trust your good doctor to know just about everything.

“Were there reports of any fires around the general area?” Hotch pipes up, his face set in his usual stony expression, though his eyes betray his pensiveness.

JJ shakes her head, adjusting her stance. “No, which is what makes this stranger. The DPD reported no calls about any sort of fire on the days our victims were killed.”

“What? So our unsub just…lit a bunch of fires in plain sight?” Derek questions, with a flick of his brow, his gaze alternating between the board and the manilla folder in his grasp.

You huff, turning to face him with a slight smile, musing. “Must be one hell of a magician.”

Derek smirks in general bemusement, his dark eyes swirled with mirth, his tone light as a feather as he shifts in his scratchy office chair. “Looks like it, lil mama.”

Ever the smooth talker.

“Or, he could be using a secondary location.” Emily chimes in, her narrow-eyed gaze set firm on the file in front of her, her slender fingers fiddling with a bullet-point pen, and her lips contorted into a reflective pout.

“That’s plausible, but you’d think at least someone would notice.” Rossi adds, with a slight huff of incredulity, his calculating gaze sweeping across the entire room before him.

The two smiling faces are quickly joined by two more, both just as radiant, both just as nausea-inducing. Those poor girls.

“We don’t know for sure. But, the most recent victims join twenty-eight year old Sarah Holloway, and twenty-two year old Jessica Bailey. Who, similarly, were found four days apart, five miles away from each other and dumped in black FIBC bags, also ruled dead via asphyxiation. However, Sarah and Jessica’s dumpsites were around 14 miles away from Haley and Laura’s.” JJ purses her lips faintly, eyes still fixated on the crime scene photographs of four similar looking women who didn’t even live properly yet, robbed of the chance to, just like Poseidon robbed Medusa of her autonomy, on the marble steps of her deity’s temple. The thought alone just worsens the crease between her brows.

“four victims…why are they only just asking for our help, now?” Spencer ponders, features frozen in contemplativeness. His fingers sweep up to push his black-rimmed frames back to their previous position on the bridge of his nose.

God, you love his glasses.

JJ’s face morphs into a faint grimace, as she replies in a reluctant tone. “Unfortunately, the media managed to connect the dots on this one, they’re dubbing our unsub ‘the smoke-killer.’ But, the DPD really needs our help with this.”

You sigh, eyes trained on the gruesome imagery displayed on the silver screen. No matter how long you’ve been with the BAU, the violence never quite gets bearable for you, though you can’t bring yourself to look away - like witnessing a car-crash. You understand the psychology behind it, shock rooting the human body in place as the brain tries to comprehend that what it’s processing is real.

But, guilt still flows around in your system like the Noachian flood. Maybe, if you thought about it hard enough, you’d feel the ark bashing against your innards as it tries to navigate the brutal waves.

You suppose the violence doesn’t get easier for the team, either. Perhaps that’s what keeps you all tethered to each other, bonded. After all, the Greeks did beat the Trojans in unity - and disguised as a large, ligneous horse, but you digress.

Hotch nods, solemnly. “Alright, we can discuss further on the jet. Wheels up in 20.” And with that, he abruptly stands up, striding out of the room with a sureness in his step that only he could possess, effectively putting an end to the briefing.

The screen then goes dark, the car-crash finally being attended to. The sounds of chairs scraping across the frizzled navy carpeted floor and paper rustling bounces around the small space, as everyone heads out and into the bullpen, all but the exception of spencer, who remains seated, brooding over his manilla file as though he’s a modern day Thomas Aquinas. always thinking. You muse to yourself, though your eyebrow still raises in question nonetheless.

“Reid, you coming?” You probe gently, standing in the doorway with a faint grin. Your eyes flickering like fairy-lights all around his hunched-over frame.

Spencer startles slightly, craning his head up from the file and over to you - a rosy hue creeping up the nape of his neck from the sight of you alone. He swallows, standing up suddenly, and pushing his chair out with his hip, as he breathes out. “Uh, yea-yeah i’m…i’m coming.” He collects his things quickly, scrunching up his case file as he slings his satchel over his shoulder. Though, it doesn’t really matter, he’s already memorised it from start to finish. Eidetic memory and all.

He flashes you his signature flat smile once again, as his muddy hues rake over your appearance. You look pretty today, well he thinks you always look pretty, but today especially. Your hair swishes around your face in wisps like cotton-candy, your frame adorned in your usual grey fitted slacks, paired with a pink striped puff sleeved button down and black leather boots.

He believes you’re the personification of an angel, and with the way the abnormally-harsh office lighting is dancing around your hair in a nimbus-like manner, he’s probably right.

“C’mon then doctor genius, we have an hour long flight to catch.” Your voice rolling out with a teasing lilt, a subtle smile curled around the edges of your glossed lips.

Spencer usually loathes being referred to as a genius, namely because it’s said with such obvious sneer and condescension, like he’s an abnormal form, like he’s still that twelve-year-old high schooler. But, you never say it with thinly-veiled disgust, no, you say it with such reverence- like it’s something to be admired.

Yeah, angel.

He mirrors your smile, eyes soft and starry eyed as he follows you out of the room. “one-hour, 19 minutes and 45 seconds.” He corrects softly, always keen for specifics, his satchel smashing against his upper-thigh periodically as he walks beside you.

You huff in amusement, rolling your eyes in jest. “Right. My bad, one-hour, 19 minutes and 45 second long flight.” Your head tilts up slightly to look up at him, your irises dipped in unsubtle gaiety,

Spencer lets out a huffy laugh of his own, shaking his head in amusement. He loved when you teased him, though he’d never admit that. At least, not to you anyway.

“Oh, forgive me for being specific.” He sounds out, airily, like a dish-soap bubble crafted by small exploring hands, as he places his own ridiculously large palm on his chest in mock-offence.

“more like particular.” You reply, just as you reach your desk, in faux-annoyance, the curl of your lips betraying that fact.

Spencer puffs out another slight laugh in response, as he leans against the edge of your desk, watching you comb through it. His gaze doesn’t settle, darting around the array of trinkets and just general stuff aligning the glossy oak, including the multiple pots of bright pens - some looking vaguely like the ones he’s seen scattered around Penelope’s ‘bat-cave’ - and even a stick-figure drawing of him scribbled onto a canary yellow sticky-note, featuring overly large glasses and converse, which are more akin to clown shoes, alongside an equally as dramatised stick-figure version of Morgan, complete with a badly scrawled out six pack and huge biceps.

He feels a warmth blossom in his chest as looks over the cluttered space. It’s just so irrevocably you.

“particular or not, i still believe everything-“ He begins.

“-everything should be accurate, wherever possible” You mock affectionately, with a barely hidden smirk, still rooting through your things like a squirrel digging for an acorn.

A slight pout forms on his face, bordering on more petulant than anything. “How’d you even know I was going to say that?”

A faint effervescent giggle slips past your lips, your head still firmly pulled down, as your hands continue their wandering through your desk drawers. “ ‘Cause you’ve said that line at least a dozen times now, doc.” You drawl out, still grinning to yourself.

He wants that sound to be his morning alarm.

He rolls his eyes, only half-seriously, a smile lighting the corners of his mouth up like a vegas ‘welcome’ sign. “I have not said that a dozen times!” He huffs out, with a shake of his head at the injustice of it all, his dark curls springing with the movement.

You just smile, continuing to rifle through your desk before you locate what you were looking for, quickly straightening up and collecting the rest of your things before turning to him.

“Well, I’m all set doctor, lead the way.”

“Is that just so you don’t get lost again?” he replies, with an overt teasing twinkle.

You groan, blowing out like a whistle “that was one time! i was still new, and the hallways are confusing!”

He just bellows out a laugh, pushing up off the edge of your desk and beginning to walk - more like stride - his way to the elevators. You in tow, but just barely. His legs are way too long.

“I can put a sign on my back that says, ‘follow me’, if needs be.” He throws behind his shoulder.

“Oh, shut up!” You bark out, not really with any bite. Never with him.

It had been about three days since you landed in Detroit, Michigan. Most of that time being spent cramped up in the tiny makeshift office curated for the team, downing copious amounts of coffee, reading files until the backs of your eyes burned and dodging the borderline leering looks from the mid 40-year-old, beer gut endowed cops.

In other words, it was hell.

The team had made some progress, though. Narrowing down the profile to a white male in his early to mid thirties, who works a menial job, of average height and build, and who clearly dislikes women. Obviously, that didn’t narrow down the ‘Where’s Waldo’ search by much. But still, you really just couldn’t shake the obvious question…

Why go through all the trouble of burning these women, but not completely, just to dump their bodies?

And it seemed that question floated around the backs of everyone else’s mind, too. It was bizarre, to say the least.

Currently, the team is all stuffed in said aforementioned makeshift office space, like sardines in a can, no less. Emily and JJ sat at the table together, as usual, Derek propped up against the wall, Hotch and Rossi stood brooding in the corner of the room, quietly discussing something between themselves, leaving you and Spencer situated in front of the board, where the geographical profile is mapped out.

“He’s operating within a 20 mile radius, dumping the bodies within an area he’s comfortable in. He’s either going to strike here.” Spencer points to a spot on the map with his finger, tapping against it slightly before dragging it across and towards another spot, “or here.” His features were swamped in pondering thought, his honeyed gaze encompassing the sight in front of him.

“Yeah, but i still don’t understand why he’d go through all the trouble of burning them till they die from smoke inhalation, and then discarding the bodies. jus’ seems a lil’ pointless t’ me” Morgan drawls out, his stance wide and his arms folded, one of his hands resting on his chin.

“well ain’t that the million dollar question.” You reply, with a sigh lathered in perplexity, your arms folded in a similar manner, but with one of your hands rubbing up the side of your arm, in a absentminded fashion.

“Morgan’s right, it doesn’t make any sense.” Hotch pauses slightly, contemplating - like everybody else in the room. His dark eyebrows stitched together, and his lips set in a taut frown.

“None of it makes sense, i mean, even the dumping method, why bulk bags and not just plain ol’ trash bags?” Emily questions, sitting back in her seat with an exhale, her legs crossed with her boot-clad foot tapping against one of the legs of the rickety table.

You blink, a thought coming to you at her question. “Theres a Hardware store in the middle of town, right?” You throw out, hands stuffed into the pockets of your black slacks.

Hotch’s brows furrow, as he regards you. “Yes, why?” He says simply, almost curiously.

You shrug, “so then he’d probably be getting the bulk bags from there, since it’s easily accessible.”

Everyone goes silent at your question, seemingly mulling it over, before Morgan responds.

“If so, why wouldn’t he just buy trash bags?” He says, with a cock of his brow.

“Because he wants the victims to be found.” Spencer states, plainly, piling onto your train of thought and rocking back and forth on his heels, as his tongue darts out, swiping his slightly dry bottom lip.

“Think about it, a bulk bag is much more conspicuous than a simple trash bag, he wants his handiwork to be seen - maybe not right away, but he knows at least one person would find the presence of a large plastic bag near a dumpster to be…alarming, whereas no one would bat an eye at seeing a trash bag. Same goes for his M.O, he most likely has some sort of access to an incinerator, perhaps due to his job, which allows him to discreetly ‘burn’ his victims, before dumping them in a way which derives notice.”

His hands flail around wildly as he talks, an endearing habit that makes it seem like he’s so excited to talk about what he’s discussing that, at the minimum, one part of his body has to move with the speed of his mouth.

You smile - more of a secret thing, really, just for yourself - you love listening to that man talk. It’s the eighth wonder of the world, to you.

Everyone nods, the notion seemingly settling into their psyche without much problem, as logically, it did make sense.

“If thats the case, then we have a problem.” Rossi scratches the side of his jaw lightly, his head tilted and his bronze hues directed at the table.

Emily raises her brow, in clear need of clarification. “What problem?” She murmurs out, her head cocked to the side, questioningly.

“We have an unsub who wants attention, and will stop at nothing to get it.” Hotch adds on, sharing a brief glance with Rossi, his expression more grave than usual, before he fishes out his phone, dialling a number and setting the onyx Nokia down onto the table. “Garcia, you’re on speaker.”

“Hello, my favourite crime-fighters! To what do i owe the pleasure?” The shrill cheery voice of Penelope Garcia rings out, immediately bringing a small smile to your face. She really was like bathing in sunshine.

“We were wondering if you could take a look at a hardware store’s sales within the last month, more specifically of FIBEC bulk bags.” Hotch drags out, his arms still folded and his face betraying nothing but his usual stoicism.

“Oh, that i can do upside down with my hands tied, sir! just…one…second.” Penelope’s voice hauls out, followed by the rapid clinking of keyboard keys. “What’s the name of the store?” She asks, her tone focused.

“Sally’s Shack” Hotch replies, his tone equally levelled.

After a few moments, and a lot more keyboard clicking, Penelope finally pipes up again. “Ah-hah! so, it appears that our shack in question has sold six FIBEC bulk bags within the last month, all to the same buyer - well, at least the same credit card was used, ending in 4678.”

Hotch looks visibly taken aback slightly, before he asks “Can you get a name, Garcia?”

“Already on it, sir.” Penelope replies, with her usual peachy tone.

A tense silence follows, only sporadically broken by the clickity-clack of Penelope’s rainbow pastel keyboard. Then, she pipes up again.

“Okay…looks like the card belongs to a 33-year-old, Mr. Eugene Humphrey, who currently works at…” Her words trail off, obvious hesitance behind them “…burns funeral home and crematory, and owns a residence just in the middle of town.”

Everybody seems to pause, then. He matches the profile - Mid thirties, works a menial job which would give him access to a ‘discreet’ burning method and just so happened to purchase the same material used by the unsub, whilst also owning his own property not too far away from the hardware store in which the material was purchased…yeah that can’t be a simple coincidence.

“Pen, does he have a criminal record of any kind?” Your voice floats out, drifting through the confined space like Thumbelina on her shamrock lily-pad.

“I will have a looksie for you now, my sweet sugar muffin, just hang on one second-“ Penelope cuts herself off as her fingers begin their ministrations again, the keyboard rumbling with every tap, a smile edging on your face at the absurd term of endearment.

“Alright…looks like our guy spent six months in juvenile detention when he was sixteen for lighting his girlfriend’s car on fire, claimed he caught her cheating on him with his best friend, youch!”

You can practically see the cogs turning in your teammates heads, looks like you got your guy.

“Okay, thats good garcia, could you-“

“-send his information over? already done, sir.” promptly interrupting the low voice of your unit chief, in a way that is so Penelope, that he can’t really object.

“Thank you Garcia, We appreciate it” Hotch replies in his typical authoritative tone.

“You’re welcome, my gorgeous gods and goddesses, now go and save lives.” Penelope chirps out, swinging on her swanky desk chair, her hands now preoccupied with a bright pink fluffy pen.

“You’re the best, babygirl.” Morgan calls out, his tone suave and a smirk illuminating his features.

Penelope lets out a giggle, replying in her token-teasing articulation. “Only for you, my chocolate thunder, now ta-ta!” Her sing-songy voice sounds out with finality, before the line drops, indicating that she ended the call.

“Alright, everyone, looks like we’re scoping a funeral home. I’ll go inform the captain, and i need all of you to gear up, as a cautionary, is that clear?” Hotch demands, his gaze expectant.

resounding murmurs of “yes” fill out the area, to which the dark-haired agent replies to with a curt nod, before swiftly exiting the room.

You let out a breath, turning to the rest of the team with a faintly reluctant expression. “Let’s get this show on the road then, guys.”

Morgan flashes an easy smile, coming up behind Spencer and clapping him on the shoulder, his smooth voice infused with teasing. “You heard her, pretty boy, let’s get moving.”

Spencer has to resist an eye-roll, his cheeks immediately flushing raspberry red, whereas you just let out a small confused laugh - clearly not in on whatever inside joke that seems to be playing out - turning on your heel and prancing out of the room, leaving the two of them to squabble like 10-year-old brothers.

Though, on your way out, you swear you saw Emily squeeze JJ’s hand underneath the table…

Something went wrong. Terribly wrong.

You don’t know how - hell, nobody on the team knows how, but Humphrey somehow found out you were coming. He might’ve gotten some frustratingly accurate in-tell, or maybe he just… knew. After all, bad news attracts bad news, right? And being arrested for the murders of four women sure seems like pretty bad news. Or maybe he was a paranoid fuck. Either thought seems plausible, but currently pointless.

Ironically, Burn’s Funeral Home and Crematory, was well…burning. The two-story high foundation, which you’re guessing was once a depressing waxen colour, is now engulfed in orange. Bright, blazing orange, and for a moment, you almost believe the sun crash-landed onto earth.

The ignited shades dance across your features , making you look like you’re almost glowing. You hear Morgan let out a few curses, and Emily mutter something eerily close to “Oh my God” under her breath. But, the rest of you remain silent, devoid of speech, heads lifted up and staring at the fiery wreckage. Drawn in, entranced.

You can’t pull your eyes away, Not even when Hotch snaps out of his own silent gazing and begins to talk around you, shooting out instructions like darts to your co-workers. Well, until you hear a fire-man trudge past you, in full PPE and carrying a winding anaconda-like hose, writhing along the gravelled floor with each step he takes, similar orders being barked out of his mouth to his team-mates. But, that isn’t what grabs your attention, it’s the information coming from his radio.

A mother and her child are stuck in there, apparently looking for a casket for her husband before the building went up in flames, and they aren’t even going to attempt to save them - something about the fire being “too large, too risky.”

A mother and her child. Her 8-year-old little girl who just lost her father, and now is going to lose her own life, trapped in a scorching maze.

Not on your watch.

You will not, cannot, let this sick bastard take another girl’s life.

Your legs move before your brain even has time to catch-up, darting straight past multiple fire personnel who all try to stop you, but you dodge each one. Not even the sounds of the team shouting your name halts you, your figure retreating straight into the raging inferno.

What’s that saying? Moth to a flame?

Well, consider the molten-structure your flame. Because you won’t stop, will not stop, not until the mother and her daughter are out. Safe.

Either way, God appeared before Moses in the form of a fiery bramble. And maybe, he was doing it again, instead for their freedom, not yours or a 120-year-old man’s. You were getting them out of this desert, even if there were no miles of grainy-sand and the occasional tumbleweed, but instead hot, piercing, smouldering heat.

Spencer’s astute brain doesn’t take long to register what the hell you are doing. And, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt so panicked. He practically screeches your name, moving to go after you, but with no such luck as Morgan and Hotch hold him back. But he fights, and he fights harder than he’s ever had in his life, because this is you.

“Let me go! she’s in there! you can’t just let her go in there!” He shrieks, every word sharpened with utter desperation.

Neither Morgan’s nor Hotch’s replies to his incessant wailing actually penetrates his mind. He feels like he’s underwater, succumbing to the depths of the Mariana Trench, fading black and blue.

The water freezes over the longer you’re in there. Trapped in that dismal, enflamed formation. He feels sick, but he knows spilling his stomach content won’t provide any relief, it’s a sickness that’s lodged itself into his bones, into his very being. He wonders if this is what the Woolly Mammoths felt like during the first coming of the glacial-period, just observing as they, one-by-one, all perished to the frost.

He can’t have lost you. Not before he-

…Not before he could tell you that you’re his first thought when he wakes up, and his last before he surrenders himself to the dark abyss of unconsciousness.

No, this can’t be it. He refuses, he downright rejects the thought.

He just stares, and stares at the lit up property, his whole entity screaming for you to just make it. His mind and mouth spinning prayers to god’s he doesn’t even believe in because if there was any chance of that turning the cards in your favour, then he’s taking it and holding on tight.

The seconds feel like minutes, the minutes like hours. Time is a fickle thing, always stretching and compressing back together again depending on someone’s emotions. But, that philosophy does nothing to distract him from the ache. Because a life without you in it, he grasps, isn’t a life at all. Not one that he wants to live, anyway.

Two soot-covered frames emerge from the fiery entrance, immediately being swept away by fire-personnel for medical treatment. And his heart stops, until he realises you aren’t either of those coughing figures.

Where are you? Why aren’t you coming out?

Time seems to stretch again, expanding like a black-hole over his fitful, beating heart. Ready to consume, ravage. But, maybe, that would be an act of mercy, anything would be an act of mercy compared to the waiting. Agonising, hoping and waiting.

Then…a third figure finally bursts out of the flames. He’s seen that mop of hair before, he knows that hair. Even at a fair distance, hunched over and simultaneously gasping for air and hacking your lungs up, tousled, with skin embedded in ash, You’re beautiful and you’re alive.

You’re alive.

He pushes his body forward and he runs, he sprints and goes to you. And this time, Hotch and Morgan let him.

[otkuhotgirl]

─── 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐅𝐅 .

# with portgas d. ace.

the mera mera no mi had a dozen benefits — setting your walls alight was but one of them.

⎰ & KINKTOBER, (late) day five. smut (mdni!). temperature play. devil-fruit usage. oral (reader!receiving). fingering. afab!reader. no y/n used.

WC: 2.4k.

portgas d. ace had fed himself with a fruit that granted him particularities similar to those of a furnace. fire coursed through his veins — oftentimes he mused the thought that it had burned whichever cells connected him to his father still. heat gave him a reputation; an untouchable anatomical state. fire fist ace, the fearsome second-in-command. flames and warmth were but a weapon and he never thought of it beyond that. until he found that the feelings labored for you burned brighter than whatever spark his fingers conjured.

lust first settled during the search for akagami no shanks — the man who had saved his younger brother’s life. amidst ice and torrid snow, you stood: a single thread of life with a clear distaste for the cold. hunched, trembling figure whose knees were pressed to one’s chest, cursing through parted lips, at the corner in an attempt to disappear from sight. when ace sat by your side, heat emanating from his flesh, you immediately pressed yourself against him, hiding your face as you clung to his arm. he had laughed then, hugging you until the trembling ceased, growing hotter at the sound of your relieved sigh.

the second time had been during a sudden — yet common — change in the weather at the approach of a winter island. ace had no intentions of lingering there whatsoever, and briefly instructed his crew to be swift in their business. you opted to remain on the ship, covered in tides of blankets with a lukewarm cup of untouched coffee in hand. ace wordlessly set a place behind you, nervous, yet smooth, as he pressed his palms over your shoulders and began an amateurish massage. he feared the prospect of his physical strength causing you pain, yet you merely leaned into his touch, moaning with your eyes closed as the shared warmth coursed through your body. ace thought himself vicious; disgusting; for he had felt a sudden twitch in his cock at the sounds.

at last, the snap came once he mingled with the whitebeard pirates, his past crewmates choosing to linger; accepting the shift in captains. you were bedridden, and marco had commented that heat could increase the comfort during menstrual cramps. ace caught on the words left unsaid, and offered, once again, to be your soothing warmth; your healing flame. you sounded grateful altogether, and had no problems falling asleep in his arms whatsoever, allowing his hands to be placed on the external root of your pain. sharing the bed had been enough for you to claim one another; to officiate the clear-as-day relationship born from reciprocal love.

although things had changed ever-since — from endless travels to foreign lands, to the survival of a terrible war —, ace’s hidden desire regarding his devil-fruit persevered. it was shown regardless of the weather, twitching erection even in alabasta, when sweat pooled on your cleavage; when he’d see you swimming, sea-salt clinging to your flesh; or the particular instances of quietness, when his fingers would travel through your body until they found your clit. oftentimes, when his cock was lost amidst your warm walls, perhaps out of sheer instinct, he’d find himself increasing the temperature of it, if only to access your reaction. a complicated gamble; the fear of maiming, alight fire born from his excitement. yet, you remained restless, as though understanding that he had a fair share of thoughts unshared. ace feared the moment in which you’d corner him, for he’d cave to your every desire.

he sighed, clicking his tongue in deep thought. the second thereafter, ace all but choked on his food, punching his chest with certain strength. he half-noted the glass of water placed on the table, and spat a final chunk of meat at a particularly harsh slap on his back. ace’s hand gripped the cup and he chugged the liquid, tear-filled eyes observing your figure — sitting on the other side of the small table, an interested expression on your face.

“careful now, hotstuff,” you scolded, and he flushed at the name. “where have you gone this time?”

the question had increased in frequency since the death of whitebeard — his chosen father. ace was unused to the idea of sharing his pain, rather preferring to bottle it up. you respected said decision, yet, more often than not, his prolonged quietness proved itself to be obnoxious. you stated that his thoughts traveled to a place you could not reach, and in said instants, you were forced to scratch the surface of his mind and tether it to the present at hand.

“nowhere important,” ace answered, clearing his throat. you merely raised an eyebrow, well aware of the poor-crafted lie. he gave in, unable to withstand the expectating — borderline disappointed — look on your face. “promise not to be creeped out?”

“by you?” the question posed itself as though a joke; incredulous. “ace—”

“i know,” he interrupted through a sigh. “still, i would hate to leave you uncomfortable.”

“try me,” you encouraged, nothing but love explicit through your features.

ace stretched his hand, palm facing you. he coaxed your approach with a movement of his index, tensing once your wrist was pressed against his skin. he was hesitant — fearful, even — when he activated his devil-fruit, a tempting and gradual increase in his temperature. you hummed, circling your wrist on his palm, testing the waters.

“warm,” you stated matter-of-factly, tapping your fingers on his arm. ace repeated the previous action, multiplying the valor of warmth; recoiling the flames that threatened to lick your flesh. “warmer.”

ace closed his fingers around your wrist, caressing the tender inches of skin. “is it distressing? painful?”

you chuckled, moving your head in denial. “it’s soothing, ace. it’s you.”

he smiled softly, breathing in order to gather further courage. “would you mind if i tried it elsewhere?”

you blinked, growing quiet for the briefest instance, although that had been enough to bloom certain insecurities within him. ace’s lips parted, tongue prepared to spill a dozen apologies — until your hand pushed the plates and cups aside and you sat on the table, sliding towards him. ace was aghast at your willingness; your excitement.

“now?” you inquired softly, gripping the hem of your dress, legs already crossed.

“you want it now?” a stupid question, truly, when one considered the blown state of your pupils.

“please,” you pleaded, already tugging at the edges of your clothing, raising it over your head.

ace’s hands groped your breasts, cock twitching at the sight and perspective of what could be done with them. his tongue lurked out, swiping a streak of saliva up your chest. you shuddered, to which ace smirked, twitching one of your hardening nipples. his digits grew brighter as a consequence of the shift in his temperature, offering a direct source of warmth to your flesh. he tested the length of his devil-fruit, internal fire reaching the tip of his tongue. ace latched his mouth around the bud, a pathetic rut of his hips following-in-suit as a consequence of your moaning.

he grew hotter, the gradual warmthness of your own skin teasing his nose. when your fingers tugged at his hair, ace’s tongue flicked; mouth applying pressure as he sucked on the flesh of your breast, well-aware of the consecutive loss of control on his powers. it felt as though entering a forest-fire to meet its god in the center, an ever-growing heat embracing your every nerve.

your nipple grew swollen at the attention — heated and pained —, whereas his saliva was a river of liquid flames, setting you alight. his unused hand traveled down your stomach, emerging goosebumps at its temperature. he pushed your back against the table, adoration poured into each featherlight touch. you heard the sound of his knees meeting the ground; felt his palm settling on your hip-bone. a pair of heated fingers traveled through your folds, spreading your essence through the extension of it. you whimpered, for your own pre-cum had its temperature shifted; fire reaching your very core.

ace sucked on your thigh, experienced thumb drawing fast-paced circles on your once neglected clit; bright digit behaving as though the teasing of a lighter. you squirmed, and he needed but a single hand to cage your figure. his lips left a trail of sensitive bruises, before they replaced his thumb, wrapping them around the swollen bud. the tip of his burning index teased your entrance, before he shoved three fingers inside — knuckle-deep — invading your walls with unthought suddenness. you mewled, unused — however excited — with the heat; dripping cunt close to boiling.

he moaned, sending vibrations through your body. his fingers curled inside you, teasing the gummy walls; igniting your g-spot. ace rutted against the air, erection caged in between the fabric of his clothes. regardless, he neglected his own needs for the sake of your own, observing, through his eyelashes, your face contorting in pleasure. ace gripped a fistful of your thighs, the warmth of it enough to burn lonesome inches of hair. when he made a sudden worried move, intending to retreat altogether, you gripped his hair yet again, shoving his face deeper into your cunt.

“d-don’t stop,” you pleaded, trembling legs threatening to close themselves around his head.

he moaned, setting a vigorous pace. his tongue ventured through your folds, nose buried deep; teasing your clit. ace moved his head to the sides, dragging your warm essence through his chin and mouth. his tongue drew a luscious, famished stripe before he sucked on the swollen, burning clit, nearly tearing up at the saltiness coating his palate.

“fuck, babe, you taste so good,” he groaned, voice coming out muffled, for the ministrations of his mouth remained. you moaned at the compliment, arching your back at the retreat of his fingers — nails at your entrance — before he shoved them inside yet again, a relentless pace that had your cunt squeezing the digits, dripping down his palm.

your entire figure trembled, thighs caging him, feet sliding down his muscular back. ace’s tongue was molten-fire against your clit, zigzagging around it, his face covered in specks of burning pre-cum — growing reddish at the prolonged contact. curling toes; ruthless tug at his hair. he drowned on your cunt, mouth claiming every drop of your essence while his fingers abused your g-spot.

your voice was a broken choir whose words were all but variations of his name. it flared up his ego, had him switching to shove a burning tongue inside your clenching cunt; fingers parting your folds open as a set of two circled around your clit. he all but slurped; humped the air. a wet patch stained his pants, and one could smell the stench of burning fabric as he pre-cum escaped past his tip, a tide of wild flames.

“ace, ‘m close,” you mewled, breathing out heavily, eyes tethered to the sight of his soaked face.

he retreated his lips for the briefest second to press a searing, burning kiss on your entrance, smirking at your drawn-out moan. the pace of his fingers on your clit increased, and ace bit on your outer labia, his other hand pinching on your trembling thigh.

“cum for me, love,” he encouraged, yet again shoving a warm tongue inside, his chin and nose buried in your cunt.

the knot unraveled itself, and your orgasm tore you from inside-out, drowning his face. ace chased it, famished mouth claiming every droplet of cum that fell on his awaiting tongue, his fingers working still as he stimulated the tides of your high. with a final stripe of the warm muscle, ace leaned his face backwards, licking his lips and tracing the cum that lingered on his chin. he shoved a thumb inside his mouth, sucking the rest of it; removing the finger with a pop. his flesh had a shade pale pink where your essence had touched.

ace spread your legs and got on his feet, eyes tethered to the sight of your bare body on the table, sweat-etched skin glistening under the natural light. “it was a delicious appetizer.”

you laughed then, opening your arms — a solace, whose walls he could rest within. ace’s glance softened ever-so-slightly at the sound, and his chest leaned forward, drawn by your sentence. “come and get the main course, hotstuff.”

his fingers fidgeted with buttons, zippers and straps, a loud groan following-in-suit when his erection slapped against his stomach. swollen, leaking tip sensitive enough to make him hiss due to the merest brush of the wind. ace buried his face on your neck, licking the sweat off your flesh as his hand blindly aligned his shaft with your entrance. the girth slid in with fair easiness, the reminiscing drops of your previous orgasm mingling; enveloping the neglected head.

when ace bottomed out, the pair of you moaned in unison. your nails dug on his back as his hips set a languid pace, flushed tip reaching deep into your g-spot. his cock was a conflagration, forcing your walls to match the absurd temperature, shared heat enhancing both of your senses; increasing the sensitivity. the legs of the table complained at every harsh, wild thrust, balls slapping your ass as he hammered himself inside — sudden retreat of the tip; aggressive shove of the base until he had you filled with his girth. you babbled a sequence of compliments that had him twitching; drooling inside.

your legs wrapped around his waist, and both his hands settled themselves on the back of your thighs. his mouth sang luscious moans as his tongue and teeth bruised the skin of your neck — visible marks; explicit claim of what was his. ace’s pace grew erratic at the approach of his orgasm, the warmth leaving him sensitive to the point of embarrassment. your walls sucked him in, a famished, selfish lover that wished for nothing but to milk him dry.

when he pressed his forehead against yours, the act itself held an intimacy he once could ever dream of having with another, and the act itself soothed the once miserable soul of a child unwanted. ace breathed out into your mouth, words failing him as you nodded, increasing the strength of your legs around him.

“cum inside,” you cried out, raking your nails down his tattooed back. “want it—want you, all of you.”

ace struggled to keep his eyes open as he shot his load into you. it was of an alarming heat, leaving a lingering burning sensation on his tip. you mewled, sobbing as fire incarnated smeared your sensitive walls, leaving but a trail of metaphorical ashes in its wake. ace pressed butterfly-kisses on your face, lips claiming dried tears and accumulated sweat. his thrusts assumed a slower pace, a final chase of his high until the both of you were left a frail, exhausted mingle of bodies. his hands left your thighs; your legs fell, limp, dangling from the table.

the merest glance at your lover’s face had your eyes widening, hands pushing his chest. “don’t you dare, ace! the table will break—”

he collapsed into you, shifting your bodies at the last second. wood gave in to his weight, and his back all but met the ground, arms encircling your figure as your side was pressed to his chest. ace caressed your ass, mumbling about how he needed to clean you properly — and snoring thereafter.

you snorted, caressing his cheek. “sleep well, hotstuff.”

— 🐈‍⬛ : happy late kinktober, time is a concept!

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU

Warnings; Several yanderes, platonic yanderes, romantic yanderes, yandere behavior, monster au, fem reader, no one starts off knowing reader is fem so they/them pronouns used, deranged behavior, spiders, driders, centaurs, unicorns, Nemean lions, werewolves, selkies, minotaurs, genies, nagas, magic, threats, panic,

~~~~~~~~

Nothing made sense anymore.

None of what you saw could have possibly been real, and even if it was, where did that leave you? The area was not familiar and you had gone through one of those mirrors to get where you were. Hopefully those... things... wouldn't think to look for you where you decided to hide out until you got a plan together. This was all provided you could think of a plan despite everything going on around you.

When you had woken up inside a coffin, the panic had set in so quickly. Since the very second that coffin spilled you out on the marble floors to the odd creatures that greeted you with unhindered curiosity, you were afraid and lost. Even now as impossible things had taken place, a thought echoed in your head from what one of the creatures had said.

I thought Humans were extinct?

Certainly a few of those you saw around you looked human, but most were some kind of creature or abominable hybrid. None of it made sense because creatures like this couldn't possibly exist, right? If that was true, you were suffering some kind of psychotic break. But if it wasn't true, if you could actually trust your eyes to tell you the truth, then you had something completely new to deal with.

Exhaustion hit you hard enough that you couldn't help but cuddle close to your stone companion and shelter, seeking comfort in the cold statue.

~•§•~

Eyes slowly flickered open in the dark, searching with sleep-hazed confusion at the oddly cramped surroundings. Attempting to lift your hands only made more confusion race through your mind as some kind of lid stopped you from completing the motion. The fog of sleep that had hung so heavy in your mind was now replaced with sharp awareness and clarity, throwing you into a state of panic as you realized you were trapped.

The dark container you found yourself in had you thrashing and desperate for freedom from your newfound confines. Your kicking and thrashing- painful against the lid of your container- managed to actually knock the top loose and slightly ajar. That bit of light from outside was the only encouragement your knowledge deprived brain needed to know it was doing the right thing by struggling. What you didn't expect was the feeling of this human-sized container pitching forward to spill you out unceremoniously on the ground.

The cold surface beneath you felt even colder on your soft face, wondering just where you were and why all of your memories leading up to that moment were just a blur. You didn't have long to spend on your musings before an unusual voice reached your ears, closer to a baritone than a tenor but still a masculine sounding tone.

"Oh my, I thought we had all of the students accounted for. Could it be I miscounted?"

You pushed yourself up with your hands to try and face whoever was speaking, seeing an oddly feathered man with dark black hair walking towards you. He wore a mask- or perhaps he truly had a beak- that made him look like a rather large corvid walking towards you. Despite his humanoid features, something in the back of your mind told you that this man was not what he appeared at first glance. Even his bright yellow eyes that shined from beneath the black mask seemed inhuman as they studied you intently.

"You certainly don't seem like one of the sudents I selected. I'm fairly sure I would remember someone odd... like you..?"

The man stopped in his tracks, regarding you strangely as if he were actually looking at you now. He certainly wasn't recognizeable to you and you had no sense of familiarity upon seeing him. Something about you must have caught the man's attention as he cocked his head to the side, crouching next to you and observing you keenly. Something about the way he moved was so bird-like you wondered if he was pretending to be some character or if there were actually something inhuman about him.

"I don't often need to ask this question, and I am very curious now what your answer will be, but what are you?"

That was certainly an odd question. You thought the answer would have been obvious, but something about the whole situation made you feel like what you were going through wasn't normal.

"Human..? Isn't everyone?"

There was a long moment of silence and it was in this silence you decided to look around now that your poor face stopped hurting from your abrupt meeting with the ground. You were in the center of a large room where what seemed to be dozens of coffins with various sizes and shapes floated around you. The container you came from was also a coffin and you could see where you had actually damaged the smooth wood with your desperate attempt at freedom.

Beyond the floating coffins- as surreal as they were- you noticed that you were not the only two present. Many others were standing around you, all in the same black, purple, and gold robes. All looking at you with unguarded curiosity. It was as you looked at these unusually robed people that you began to realize none of them looked particularly human. The more you searched, the clearer it became that none of those standing around you seemed to be fully human.

One of those standing there was a heartbreakingly beautiful bird-man with smooth complexion and flawless makeup darkening his lovely purple eyes. His fair blond hair woven with long feathers. Behind him was a long train of peacock feathers in iridescent colors that seemed all the more colorful beneath the flicking candlelight. As he noticed you glance at him, he seemed to almost puff out his chest in pride and the feather train behind him ruffled ever so slightly.

There was what you could only describe as a some kind of horned horse-man standing not too far from the bird-man. He had fiery red hair that complimented his smokey blue eyes, a prominent golden horn sat in the middle of his forehead with two long strands of hair framing the protrusion. His horse-half had pure white fur, the tail of the horse sporting the same flaming hair the human-half had. The hooves on the horse half were that same sparkling golden that made the hybrid almost seem regal in a way.

Even beyond the two oddities you saw more and more inhuman features on the beings standing around you. There was a light murmur of conversation humming through the air and that was when you caught something unusual.

"I thought humans were extinct?"

You were brought back to attention by the man in front of you clapping his hands as he stood back to full height. He had an unsettling smile playing on his lips and he regarded you the same way one would regard a lost puppy sitting, shivering from fear and cold at their door.

"You actually are a human, aren't you? How amazing! To think, a human just appeared at my College after centuries of one not even being sighted! How thrilling. This certainly is an unusual situation, and it is my duty as Headmage to safeguard such an endangered creature. Worry not, little human, you are safe here. Aren't I just the kindest?"

You felt like you had been dropped in some wretched nightmare that made no sense despite how desperately you searched for it. There was no such thing as horned horse men, or crow men, or peacock men! None of this was possibly happening because these things just didn't exist where you were from. Maybe as a child you had believed such lies, but as an adult you couldn't comprehend these creatures possibly existing. It was just madness.

It was as you were pulling yourself too your feet that another voice spoke up, this one a touch deeper than that of the Crow man.

"Merveilleux~ to see such a mythical being up close like this... Their beauty is absolutely stunning in such a captivating and exotic way, très bien!"

You saw the man speaking and felt a little confused when he was taller than many of those standing around him. As others moved to look at him you saw just what it was that gave him such height above the rest. It looked as if someone had taken the top half of a man and attached it to the body of a spider about where the face would be. The spider body itself was compact with black markings along the abdomen and long, spindly legs that seemed more than double the length of the body. Two prominent fangs sat curled at the front of the man, slightly obscured by his robes hanging over them, but you could see the faint sheen of venom on the pointed surface of the far too-large mandibles.

Something about seeing the handsome face and shining green eyes of the blond man paired with the monstrous spider-body that he was attached to made the world seem to spin and pitch beneath you. Though you had just managed to get to your feet you certainly didn't feel steady on them, but as the crow man reached out to steady you, you did the only thing you could think of and bolted. Your sudden flight from the situation made several others startle, and in the confusion you darted for what looked like an exit or portal out.

It had not been what you hoped it to be as you found yourself standing before a dark castle that seemed all the more intimidating compared to the monster filled room you just fled. Still, you could try to find somewhere in the castle to lay low, maybe even out on one of the balconies next to the many Gargoyles that overlooked the dour building. There had to be somewhere out of place enough for you to hide- or so you hoped- from the hybrid monsters that so happily decided to keep you despite not knowing a thing about you.

The slow wandering of halls with no opposition put you on edge, wondering if you just got lucky or if you hadn't seen anyone for a reason. Even as your footsteps quietly echoed in the dark halls, you remained vigilant in your quest to find somewhere out of the way.

Eventually that quest for somewhere safe led you to one of the many rooftops of the building. Your salvation came in the form of a recessed alcove that went further back than it appeared, facing away from the front of the castle. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep you sheltered from the rather cold wind and make you feel concealed even among the rooftop.

With Gargoyles as your company and adrenaline quickly fading, you found yourself exhausted and in need of a rest. Despite how fast you seemed to have stumbled upon your hiding place, you could see it had actually been quite a distance you must have run. The portal far away on the other side of the enormous drawbridge that let you into the castle. Your energy was sapped and you were more than confused, but you couldn't fight the insistent pull of sleep on your frazzled mind forever.

~•§•~

The old crow Fae was still reeling from the absolute shock he had just gone through, but most would likely be feeling the same were they in his shoes. It simply was next to impossible, but an actual human was roaming the halls of Night Raven College. He himself had last seen a human more than half a millennia ago and they had since been declared extinct for several centuries. Seeing such a mythical being in the Hall of Mirrors was certainly unexpected and curious.

At first he believed they were a Selkie who had lost their fur, but the absolute lack of magic from them told him all he needed to know. Humans were the only non-magic species that had reached sentience in Twisted Wonderland, but this left them at a disadvantage as all other sentient species had magic and quickly out competed them. Some of the Naga and other beastman tribes even took to eating humans as a delicacy before they were declared extinct. Now Crowley had what was very possibly the first recorded human in centuries somewhere lost in his college.

The grants he could get to care for the human alone justified finding them and keeping them at Night Raven despite the fact they were not actually a student or member of the college. Even beyond just the money to keep such a rare specimen safe, he was going to get to see their magicless qualities first hand. It was always assumed that humans had some kind of innate abilities to make up for the fact that they didn't have magic. Their affable nature made them great at keeping the peace between strong personalities and powerful magic users. Though humans were technically at the bottom of the food chain as far as sentient species were concerned, Crowley could keep this one creature safe at Night Raven College.

All he needed to do now was find the wayward human and get them to settle down. Of course, there was still the question for where the human could possibly stay that would ensure their safety.

~•§•~

The dark haired prince walked through the somber halls of Diasomnia. Emerald eyes taking note of the ever familiar surroundings that made up his temporary home. The dour prince was looking to visit his beloved Gargoyles and figured now was as good a time as any. He had not been invited to the ceremony after all and he was not so rude as to show up without invitation and no good reason. Besides, it had been a while since he last visited his beloved statues.

As he made his usual rounds based on the age of the statue, the horned royal paused when greeted with an unfamiliar sight. Beneath one of the Gargoyles was someone soft and delicate looking. They were clearly not made of the same stone as the statues, but by all appearances the Gargoyles had borne a child of flesh and not stone. Perhaps Lilia would know where this odd little creature came from.

The prince was gentle removing the soft (s/c) being from beneath the statue, taking care to not wake the warm creature. His obsidian wings flared with contentment as he managed to extract the oddly delicate humanoid. Outwardly appearing, they almost seemed to be a selkie without fur, but their scent said otherwise. They were much softer than a siren or banshee which often had very taut skin. With renewed purpose, the thorn prince carried his new discovery to his own room, tucking the little being into his blankets. He would find somewhere else for the odd creature to stay after he conversed with Lilia. For now, he could leave the fragile being in the safety of his nest until he figured out what they were.

Perhaps he would crash the ceremony after all. Even if he wasn't invited, this was a good reason.

[frantic-fiction]

Shattered Glass 18+

(Gif: leopardmuffinxo)

Astarion x f!reader

Summary: Astarion finally makes do on a promise.

This is part 2 of Secluded Evening. (Could be read as a stand alone)

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, oral fem receiving, PnV sex, unprotected sex, biting (of course) Astarion being a lovesick fool

Word count: 2.6k

Astarion threw another log on the fire; a flurry of embers took flight, dancing in the cold night air. The rest of the camp had already settled in their tents. You were nestled between his knees about five feet away from the flames. A throw blanket cascaded down your shoulders—a notebook on your lap. 

He studies the rapid strokes of your hand from over your shoulder. The rough lines of charcoal were blooming into an identical copy of Laz'eal. Astarion pulled a strand of hair away from your eyes and began to weave your locks into a simple braid. He doesn't have a hair tie, and knowing you, you've lost yours. So, he twists the pieces, and once done let's go, kissing the crown of your head. 

You barely acknowledge him, and when you suddenly shove the pencil over your shoulder, Astarion chuckles, taking it from you. He watches you begin smudging the charcoal with the pad of your finger. You're adorable when your art consumes you. Every time, it captivates Astarion.

This was how most of your nights were spent. Not always precisely like this; sometimes Astarion brought a book, and sometimes your hand got too sore to draw, so Astarion read to you as you curled on his lap. But as long as it was spent in each other's company neither of you cared much for the activity.

Astarion adored these nights the most, primarily because he could feast his eyes on your beauty without you shying away or throwing a stupid joke at him to break the tension. You were perfect in every way, and when he opened his heart briefly and confessed the broken pieces of himself and the motivations that led him to you. All you did was look at him with unspoken love and hugged him. 

Your relationship became something more after that. Sex was not what drew the two of you together. For the first time in 200 years, Astarion had someone he trusted with his every sense of the word. Someone who wanted more than his body and showed their love for him without words. Someone he wanted to spend every moment of his life with despite the fear that thought causes him. 

Astarion thinks he loves you but can't find the words when his mouth opens. He's always struggled with expressing his true feelings, but he wants to try with you. He wants to bear his heart to you and show you all that you mean to him. And with all the trust you and Astarion have established, one thing has become a very big problem. 

You have begun to treat Astarion like glass, as if one sexual touch will break him. And frankly, it's pissing him off. Astarion finally has complete control over his body and a partner who he trusts. A partner that can bring him to his knees with a simple giggle and to put it bluntly, gods you were fucking sexy. 

He's frustrated, horny, and has no idea how to ask for anything he wants. And for fucks sake, if he wakes from a meditation to have you grinding against his erection again, he just might explode.

In his frustrated musing, he didn't notice that you had placed your sketch pad away. He only noticed when you cupped his jaw and moved his eyes to meet yours. "What are you thinking about, handsome?"

It takes a moment for Astarion to collect himself as he stares at your soft smile. "I was thinking it's about time we get you, my sweet, to bed," he pecks your lips before grabbing your wrist and entwining your fingers. You nod and press a gentle kiss to his knuckles.

Astarion holds the flap open, and you duck inside. Kicking your pants off and into the corner, you unceremoniously plop down into the pile of cushions. You began sharing a tent in the shadow curse lands. Astarion found out pretty early on that nightmares of Cazador were less likely when you were in his arms. And thankfully, you slept better, too. 

You prop yourself on your elbows and silently watch Astarion move about the small space, removing his outer clothing. He seemed to be stalling, almost like he was silently debating with himself. Astarion is in his underwear when he seems to come to a conclusion. He takes a deep breath and moves towards you. Kneeling by your feet, you watch as Astarion hesitates, his hand resting softly on your shin. Hesitation is soon replaced with a devilish smirk that stretches across his lips.

"Whatcha thinking about pretty boy?" 

Astarion doesn't say anything, just slowly begins to crawl up your body before capturing you in a breathtaking kiss. His knee is between your legs; your hands are around his neck, pulling him flush against your body. You sigh softly into his mouth, moving your hands to caress his cheekbone.

He tongues the seam of your lips, and you are quick to gasp, giving him access to lick deeper. Astarion's hands are caressing up and down your curves, cupping your breast and tugging the metal bars of your nipple rings. His mouth moves to your throat, sucking hard at your jugular. 

"W-wait!" You choke out, causing the elf above you to freeze. He's quick to remove himself from you, putting some distance between your bodies. 

"Shit, did…did I do something wrong?" Astarion's voice cracks; you've never heard him so unsure of himself. You pant hard but are quick to sit up and fall into Astarion's lap, his arms instinctually wrapping around your waist.

"No, gods no," you sigh, cupping his jaw and pressing your forehead against his. The tension in Astarion's shoulders drops, and he squeezes you a bit harder.

"Then what is it, my sweet?"

That has you pausing to figure out the best way to say this. "What was your plan?" Shit, that didn't sound good

"My plan! Are you serious?" He's already pulling away, shutting off completely when you pull him back tightly.

"No! Th-that's fuck, that's not what I meant, Star," at least he's not trying to run, but he's as stiff as ever. "Astarion, I will be as blunt as possible because I care about you. Were you trying to have sex with me because you felt obligated?"

This isn't what Astarion expected you to say because he can't mask the look of surprise. He opens his mouth to speak before clamping it shut. He does this twice more, but you don't rush him, you push stray curls behind his ear and wait. 

"No." His voice is small. He clears his throat before speaking again, stronger this time. "No, I want this, and I would appreciate you stop treating me like fucking glass."

“What?”

You're flipped over, and suddenly, on your back, Astarion's body pressed closely against yours. He ruts against you. His cock was hard, feeling painfully constricted in his underwear. "I appreciate your patience with me, darling, but I need to clarify one thing to you right now."

Astarion licks a long stripe up your collarbone, ending just under your ear. You moan softly, trying desperately to roll your hips up into Astarion. "I have never wanted someone more than I wanted you. So, if it's okay with you, my sweet, I'm going to take the rest of our clothes off, and you're going to finally let me feast upon the sweetness between your legs."

You whine and buck, trying to get anything from Astarion's unmoving body. "Tsk, no, no, my sweet. Use your words." He purred, nipping your ear.

"Please! Yes! Oh gods, Astarion," 

Once the words leave your lips, you're tearing at each other's clothes in desperation. After you are both fully undressed, Astarion shoves you back onto the cushions. You expect him to pounce but he hovers staring down at your naked body.

Astarion's deft fingers grab your foot, and he presses a soft kiss to your inner ankle. A pang of heat flared through your lower abdomen. He kisses up to the top of your calf before giving a playful bite. You release a soft yelp, and Astarions lavishes the bite with his tongue. He slowly moves up to your inner thigh, leaving various bruises in his wake.

 You're gasping as he ghosted over the spot you wanted him most. His breath fans over your dripping cunt, and you swear he's about to give you what you want. Then he kisses you. Just one small peck on the public area just above your clit, before he retreats. You cry, and one of your hands card into Astarion's white locks. 

“No! Please!”

 He begins the same slow ascent up your other leg, paying just as much attention. "Now, as much as I love those beautiful noises you make for me. Remember that our camp members are trying to sleep; you can be a good girl for me, right?" He gazes up between your parted legs, and you nod and swear if he asked at this moment, you would have given him anything.

"I thought so," Astarion purred before licking up the entire length of your pussy. You moan out and swiftly clap your hand over your mouth. Then suddenly Astarion is a man starved.

His hand grips the underside of your thighs hard and pulls you down the bed as close as physically possible. He sucks, and licks, piercing his tongue sloppily at your dripping cunt, and you're a mess of pleasure. Your grind against Astarion's face, his nose rubbing beautifully against your clit. If it weren't for Astarion's hands keeping your thighs parted, you probably would be crushing his head in your desperation.

A low groan rumbles from Astarion's chest, and he focuses his attention, sucking tightly on the bundle of nerves. He slips his first and middle finger into your cunt and curls up, causing you to gasp for air. 

"S-star…oh gods!" You cried, and he was ruthless with his assault. Astarion pumped his fingers quickly, the sloppy sounds of his mouth mixed with your muffled moan. Your stomach was coiling with pleasure, and you were embarrassed with how fast Astarion was picking you apart. "I'm close." you whimper, rolling your hips against his face. 

Astarion, after a moment, releases your clit. Still pumping you with his fingers, he looks up at you, chin glistening with your arousal, a smug grin lazily plaster on his lips. "Come for me, love, be a good girl."

With the last few slips of his fingers, the coil snaps, and you're falling apart. Eyes unfocused, muscled tight, the silent gasp of ecstasy stuck in your throat. Astarion watches in amazement and arousal as you come apart so thoroughly with just his mouth and fingers. His cock is aching pre, now dribbling down the shaft. 

Once your orgasm slows, you feel the immense need for more. And with Astarion still nestled between your legs, it has you moving without thought. You push Astarion back and plant yourself on his lap. You mash your mouth against him, chasing the taste of yourself on his tongue. 

Astarion groans and cups the back of your head, deepening the kiss. Your palms roam down his chest, smoothing down his abs until you come to his neglected cock. It's swollen and red, and when you grip it softly, Astarions hisses into your mouth, bucking into your palm. 

Smearing the pre-come around, you slowly work your hand up and down Astarion's dick in long, languid strokes. His eyes glaze over, and he moans, head dropping to your shoulder. Astarion's cold hands fondled your breast, and he leaned down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. He pulls the metal piercing softly with his teeth. 

You whine and tug on a fist full of Astarion's hair, rubbing your thumb over the head of his cock. "Fuck, darling." Astarion moans, moving to give your other breast equal attention. Your positive marks will be littering your body for days following. And the thought alone causes you to clench your thighs. 

You pump your hand faster, and Astarion meets everyone with thrusts of his hips. He claims your lips again in a sloppy dance of wet tongues. Then suddenly Astarion stills your hand.

"If you keep this up, I'm not going to last much longer." Astarion's pants, nudging your nose with his.

"Isn't that kinda the point, handsome?"

"Not if I want to come apart feeling you clenching around me," Astarion's voice is breathless, and you moan at the thought. He kisses your cheek, then your jaw. Trailing his way to your neck. "Would you like that, my sweet," 

Whatever power you had over Astarion had just turned to dust. You bite your lip and nod quickly, letting Astarion push you on to your back. You part your hips, and Astarion slots right in. 

"Words, my love. You do know how much I love your voice." Such a fucking tease.

Linking your arms around his neck, you pull him down, hitching one of your legs over Astarion's hips. "Please…I need you to fuck me." 

"Shit…" Astarion groans. Taking himself in hand, he smears his dick with your arousal before filling you agonizing inch by inch. 

The two of you let out a collective cry of pleasure, and you feel complete. Astarion pulls out and slams his hips back, ripping the oxygen from your lungs, and sets a steady pace. You clutch at his shoulders, digging your nails into exposed skin. The slick sounds of Astarions pumping in and out of you were depraved and did nothing but fill your lower abdomen with molten lava. Astarion wholly consumed your senses. 

The coolness of his lips left lingering kisses on your arched neck. The smell of bergamot and rosemary flooded your nose with each shaky inhale. The saltiness of any skin you could taste. It was too much and not enough all at once. 

The scrape of Astarion's fangs graze his favorite feeding spot, and you grab the back of his head. "Yes! P-please…" and soon, the icy pierce of his teeth is followed by the cool tingle of pleasure that flows through your body. 

Astarion grunts as soon as the blood touches his tongue. He ruts faster against you, grinding you into the blankets. He has to clamp a hand over your mouth to keep your voice from waking the whole camp. 

But what can you do? Nothing. Not when his other hand begins to roll your clit in tight circles matching his thrusts. Your hands trail down his back, legs hooking tightly around his torso. The angle of your hips changes, and Astarion is pounding into the spot that has you seeing stars. You're close, and you try to say so, but Astarion hand is still tight around your mouth. 

After a last mouthful of blood, Astarions peppers kisses over the bite. "I know, my sweet, I'm…fuck I'm close to." 

His fingers are rubbing your clit faster, and his hips aren't letting up the brutal pace. Your legs are quaking, and you feel like you might faint. You clench tightly around him, and then you fall apart. Suddenly, Astarion's hand is gone, and his tongue is in your mouth, capturing every whimper of pleasure you give. And with a few more swallow sloppy thrusts, Astarion falls over the edge with you, filling you with his spent.

Astarion continue to languidly kiss you, both hands cupping your face like you are the most precious creature on the plane. He barely grinds his hips, feeling the last of your orgasms fade until you are both too sensitive. 

And it's like someone cut the puppet strings. Astarion falls limply onto you, blanketing your body with his. You comb softly through his hair, gently pulling out any knots. Astarion kisses your shoulder before rolling off of you. 

It is silent for a while as you stare into each other's eyes. Astarions is the first to speak. "I love you," His words were barely above the whisper, and if you weren't staring intently at the man, you might have missed it. 

You're speechless. Were you dreaming?

"I still believe you deserve more than the broken man before you. But you've chosen me, and I have felt true happiness for the first time since waking up in my grave. And well-"

You don't give him a moment to finish before you're in his lap and tackling him into an embrace. "I love you, Astarion." 

The dopey grin on his face has you breaking into your own. You press your forehead to his, and he hugs you tightly. You don't know what tomorrow brings. But being here, seeing Astarion's smile, and knowing he loves you just as much as you love him. It feels like you can do anything. 

Okay, friends, this was just so fun to write. Let me know what ya thought. I swear all the love and support I've received from my last few posts have been so amazing. I'm so excited to show you more!!!

If you liked this, maybe you'll like one of these?

Happy Birthday (fluffy)

Reoccurring Nightmares (hurt/comfort)

Tag list?: @heartfully10