#Following Floating Steps tag

[catnykit]

hiiiii :3c idk what you want to talk about but what about like. when you started creating ocs??? like what’s the earliest you remember making and what was the thought process behind the ones you have rn (specifically deidamia and katatasha???)

or if not is there anything cool youve learned lately ??? :3c

EEEE TYSM :D ENRICHMENTTTT :DDDD KNOW YOU'VE FIXED A REALLY BAD DAY

Anyywaayys mmmm the earliest EAAARLIEST i can remember is having a weird httyd race to the edge oc that was like?? flower hybrid withhh the dangerous singing dragon??? i dont remember like 95% of whatever that was.

Aaaaand the thought process behind my actual ocs!!!

HMM

ok so heres the thing: I Don't Have many ocs, and theres actually a reason for this!! there was a shortcut!! but ill explain it for last bc its a long story. aslo Keep Reading thing because THIS IS A LOT OF YAPPING!!! (,,>ヮ<,,)!

ok so for deidamia: the idea was at first a broke, overworked serial killer. after watching 4 horror movies in a row i was like. all of these guys have money. hmmmmm. and when i began pondering i had the epiphany.

you've heard of serial killer whumper? get ready for serial killer whumpee, the sort of role switcharoo i love!!!! theres just a mine of potencial there y'know!! not only a publically feared whumpee (which is one of my favorite FAVORITE tropes ever <33) but aslo a publically HATED whumpee. which gives literally so much freedom for whumpy stuff. and a CRIMINAL whumpee like. villian whumpee without the fantasy sci-fi or whatever you want stuff (which is good for me!! not bc i dont like the trope but bc i just dont work well with "hero" and "villan" archetypes :( it just limits the moral complexity ok)

heres the thing: even if its her main deal, theres aslo other stuff with deidamia!!! i briefly mentioned it here but another big deal with deidamia is melancholy and sadness and gloomness and Y'know. jordan river by nastyona sort of vibes. she's a broken, stoic whumpee with so much hopelessness by the time of most endings. I tend to say i dont like tragedies but i gotta say rotari is my local tragedy. "The anger that warms ur heart now will leave you cold in your grave" type of thing. or however the poem said.

Deidamia's aslo kind of a moral question, but i dont wanna yap abt that bc that can open a biig can of worms a little too quickly😊so we're not doing that😚

Oh yeah her design is basically "what if clasical pretty final girl BUT✋️ uncanny valley". or somethin

nowww, moving on tooo katatasha, this one's actually pretty simple!!!

ok so this start with minecraft lore theories, i wont say specifics bc its kind of a blender mix + my personal interpretation. The general idea is taking all the horror and implications and whumpy details of minecraft and Making It Make sense. thats it.

theyre aslo based on my own minecraft experience!! the game is beautiful but i am extremely frightened by skeletons. i aslo pick up on the small whumpy details, again, like the time i had to throw myself in a half-frozen river bc i was jumpscared by an endeman and almost died. You know how whumpy that is? ESPECIALLY CONSIDERING ENDERMEN ARE NIGHTMARE FUEL IN THE STORY!!!!! stuff like this and many things really dont make the game a horror game, but like, think about it...

a big deal of it is aslo the natural dehumanization of the chosen one+the last of their kind.... and like... i just slapped some of my favorite character tropes and called it a day🤷‍♀️ what can i say most of my ocs are made in a whim.... @vidawhump as taglist for katatasha <3

And thats without mentioning noodle!! and lilith of course. buuuut thats a lotta yapping for today i'll just....eepy seepy thats all for todays guys🤷‍♀️

OHH I FORGOR THE OC SHORTCOUT THING.

lets say i had this Main Lore with their buncha ocs that i had been developing like. Since Forever. and the thing is bc its Since Forever it started as pretty nonsensical y'know. And Well, Following Floating Steps actually comes from that. it is a development of that story, to say..? the thing is, I Cancelled That. why?? bc i relized i Kind Of had messed up multiple things. and what i didn't relize is that it kind of left me with a Shortcout of ocs. which isnt aaactually bad bc most of it were secondary, unimportant characters y'know..... still, i passed from like 16 or more ocs to like 5. or so. like theres still many concepts i would like to explore so just like my desc, theres still more ocs to spawn!!!! and worldbuild ideas!!! but yeah theres that. I DO PLAN ON REMAKING THAT STORY, But like, when i figure how to (╥﹏╥)

[catnykit]

Or hers

i want that slut covered in blood and traumatized by his actions

[charles-leclerizz]

wrong room

on the runway : lando norris x fem!reader

inspiration ( warnings ) : Smut !!! (male receiving!oral sex, (un??) protected p in v sex , light dominance, Lando being a little possessive, mutual pining, soft dom!Lando energy, swearing, teasing, light voyeuristic vibes (friends nearby), mild praise kink, overstimulation), and lots of suggestive jokes.

VIP's in the front row ( taglist ) : MUTUALS GET INSTANT TAGS [@vroomvroomcircuit, @disneyprincemuke, @verstappen-cult, @starkwlkr, @sailing-with-100-ships, @foreveralbon, @ksthegreat, @ccupcakqs]

before the show begins ( synopsis ) : What starts as a summer getaway at a friend’s villa turns into something a lot hotter when Lando walks into the wrong room - and finds you in his old hoodie, watching F1 replays. You’ve always been friendly, never close. But maybe the hoodie wasn’t the only thing you’ve been holding onto.

designer notes : well, hopefully it was worth the wait <33 . would ya'll be mad at me if I told you I haven't started chapter 3 yet? nah, cause I'm feeding you guys so well?? ok anyway, remember to wear your seatbelts. love you

The villa is carved into the hills of Côte d'Azur like a dream - terracotta tiles, arched windows, the sea glittering just beyond a blur of lemon trees and white parasols. It smells like salt, sunscreen, and freshly crushed mint. Laughter carries from somewhere deeper inside the house, floating up and over the vines crawling across the exterior walls. 

You shift your bag higher onto your shoulder and knock on the already - slightly - open door. It creaks as it swings wider. 

“Hello?” 

No answer - just music thumping softly from an unseen speaker, and the echo of distant conversation. 

You step inside. 

The marble beneath your sandals is cool. Someone’s kicked off flip - flops by the stairs. There’s a bikini drying over the back of a chair. You already know this isn’t going to be some luxury hotel - style getaway. It’s a shared house. A friend - of - a - friend kind of trip. Half of you doesn’t even remember who invited you - just that you needed the break, and this was close enough to what you craved so you said yes 

“Hey! You made it!” 

A voice - familiar - cuts through the quiet. You turn just in time to see your friend Luca come down the stairs in a pair of swim shorts and sunglasses pushed back into his curls. 

“Finally,” he grins. “You’re the last one here. Thought you bailed.” 

“I almost did.” You lift your bag with a huff. “Traffic was disgusting.” 

He helps you with your things, leads you into the living room where it smells like watermelon and something vaguely alcoholic. A few people are sprawled out on couches or clustered around the pool deck visible through the wide - open French doors. 

And then - of course - he’s there. 

Lando. 

He’s leaning back in one of the lounge chairs, a beer dangling from his fingers, legs stretched out in lazy confidence. Tan lines on his thighs, sunglasses pushed low on his nose, jaw still sharp even in the golden hour haze. He looks over when he hears your name. 

You haven’t seen him in maybe six months. You’ve never really been friends, but you’ve always hovered in the same social circle. Occasionally at the same parties, invited to the same post - race get - togethers, orbiting each other without ever really connecting. 

But now he’s looking at you like he recognizes something new. 

He nods, subtle. Gives you a half - smile. “Didn’t know you were coming.” 

You shrug. “Didn’t know you were either.” 

“Good surprise, then.” 

You’re not sure how to respond to that - so you just smile, polite, and follow Luca further inside. 

Your room’s upstairs, small but bright. There’s a ceiling fan and a tiny ensuite and just enough room to dump your suitcase across the bed without tripping over it. You unpack slowly, letting the noise of everyone else filter up through the open window. Somewhere below, Lando laughs - low and lazy - and you feel it like a fingertip dragged down your spine. 

You should be immune to him by now. He’s Lando Norris. A walking thirst trap with dimples and the most unserious sense of humour known to man. But there’s something about here - the off - duty version, the sun - drenched version, the one who isn’t surrounded by engineers or cameras - that makes it feel… different. 

Less like a boy on posters, more like a man below your window, dipping his feet into the pool. 

You shake your head and change into something breezy: cotton shorts, a crop top. When you finally go back downstairs, the sun’s just beginning to dip below the treeline, casting long shadows across the pool deck. 

People are already drinking. Someone’s pulled the Bluetooth speaker out again. There are half a dozen towels draped across every surface. 

Lando’s still by the pool. This time, he’s in the water, arms resting on the ledge, talking to someone. His wet hair curls a little at the ends. His back is freckled from the sun. You shouldn’t be looking. You are. 

He glances up just as you sit down. 

You pretend not to notice. 

Later, when you’re carrying two Aperol's back to your lounge chair, someone bumps your arm on purpose - gently, just enough to make the glasses slosh. 

“Careful.” 

You turn. 

Lando again. 

He takes one of the drinks from you before you can say anything. 

“That was for me,” you lie. 

“Too slow,” he grins, and sips. 

You narrow your eyes. “Are you always this annoying, or is it just the heat?” 

“Don’t pretend you don’t love it.” He takes another sip, gaze drifting over your legs where you’re standing in the late - day sun. 

You cross your arms over your chest, aware of how the top you're wearing hugs tighter now that it’s clung to your sun - warmed skin. 

“Is this your game? Steal drinks and flirt with every girl who makes eye contact?” 

“Only the ones who used to ignore me at parties.” 

You blink. 

“I didn’t ignore you.” 

“You never said more than two words to me.” 

“I didn’t know you,” you protest weakly. 

He smirks. “You still don’t.” 

There’s something in the way he says it - open - ended, inviting. Like he’s offering a chance. 

You roll your eyes and sit down, forcing the tension in your jaw to loosen. “You’re trouble.” 

“I try.” 

He settles into the lounge chair next to yours, shoulder brushing yours briefly before he tilts his head back to the sun again. 

The rest of the evening blurs into the kind of contented, alcohol - soft haze you only get on the second night of a trip like this - just enough comfort to start relaxing, not yet enough routine to feel bored. 

Dinner’s grilled and eaten outside. Someone plays bartender and makes the drinks far too strong. You laugh more than you expect. Lando doesn’t hover, but every time you glance over, he’s already looking. 

You should go to bed early. 

You don’t. 

You stay long enough to watch him light sparklers with a lighter he shouldn’t have, teeth catching on the cap of another beer. Stay long enough to feel the way his laugh drags across your skin from halfway across the patio. Stay long enough to admit - to yourself, at least - that maybe this time, you do want to know him. 

By the time you’re back in your room, showered and curled up on the bed with your phone in one hand and your sleep playlist in the other, you’re warm from more than just the heat. 

The last thing you see before you shut your eyes is the faint blue light of a replay clip of Lando’s onboard from Monaco. You didn’t even mean to open it. But your vague connection the world of driving means that you, just like the drivers, are addicted to watching race replays like a lullaby. You let it loop anyway - quiet, steady - as you fall asleep in a hoodie you stole from a driver party two years ago. 

You barely remember that it’s his hoodie. 

It’s hotter the next day. The kind of heat that makes everything feel heavy - time, clothes, thoughts. 

You wake up in the late afternoon, the bed tangled with your sheets and limbs, your skin still warm from the residual heat of the day before. The villa is quieter now. Most people must already be outside, and when you crack your window open, you catch the sound of a speaker playing something bassy and upbeat, mixed with the distant splash of pool water and a few hollered laughs. 

You take your time getting ready, pulling on the only clean swimsuit you packed without thinking. It’s cute, functional enough - but maybe a little revealing. Maybe not what you’d wear if you didn’t know who else would be outside. Maybe it’s stupid how long you spend in front of the mirror tugging the straps into place. 

When you finally head downstairs, the sun hits you like a wall - too much too fast, and all of it golden. The pool glimmers. Someone’s set out snacks, there’s a melting bowl of fruit beside a stack of half - read paperback books, and a cooler full of drinks wedged under the shade. 

And of course - he’s there. 

Lando. 

Lying on a towel just at the edge of the pool. Board shorts low on his hips, eyes squinting up from behind his sunglasses. He’s propped up on one arm, lazily sipping something bright orange through a paper straw. He’s laughing at something someone’s saying off to the side, curls stuck to his forehead, skin flushed just enough to tell you he’s been out here a while. 

You try not to look. You fail. 

He notices. Doesn’t say anything - just tips his chin up in a sort of wordless greeting. 

You set your towel down two chairs away. Not beside him. Not directly across. Just… within view. 

“Someone’s late to the pool party,” he calls after a moment, voice lazy from the heat. 

“I needed sleep.” 

“You needed to make a dramatic entrance, you mean.” 

You roll your eyes but smile. “You think everything’s about you.” 

“Everything is about me,” he says, deadpan. 

You stretch out on your towel, trying not to notice the way his eyes drift down your legs, then flick quickly away again when you catch him. The air feels thicker than before - or maybe it’s just your skin, suddenly too aware of every inch of exposed surface. 

Fifteen minutes later, you’re already sweating. The sun beats down mercilessly, and you sit up, digging through your bag for your sunscreen. You squirt some into your palm and reach for your shoulder - and that’s when his shadow falls across you. 

“You’ll never reach your back,” he says casually. 

One minute Lily and Kika where beside you, the next they weren’t.  

You blink up at him, “Thanks for the concern.” 

He holds out a hand. “Give it here.” 

You hesitate. Then place the bottle in his hand, trying not to think about how broad his shoulders look from this angle. He kneels behind you on the towel, the lotion cools against your overheated skin. 

His touch is… careful. Gentle at first. He smooths the sunscreen between your shoulder blades with slow, deliberate strokes, his thumbs brushing the curve of your spine before dragging back up again, just before the thin tie of your bottoms. His hands are warm and wide, fingers pressing slightly harder with each pass, until you're leaning into the sensation without even realising. 

“This, okay?” he asks, voice low - not teasing anymore, just… close. 

You nod, barely trusting your voice. 

He doesn’t stop. Works the lotion into your shoulders, your neck, fingertips grazing the strap of your swimsuit before pulling back just shy of scandal. You feel your whole - body hum, strung tight like a wire. 

And then - just as suddenly - it’s over. 

“All good,” he says, voice a little rougher than before. 

You exhale. Try to swallow. 

“Thanks.” 

He shrugs, tossing the bottle back toward your bag. “Don’t want your burning. Would ruin your dramatic entrances.” 

You laugh, light but shaky. “Wouldn’t want that.” 

You stay in the shade for most of the afternoon, half - reading a book you can’t focus on. Every time Lando walks past - dripping wet from a dive, towel slung around his shoulders, alcohol bottle in one hand - your eyes follow him before you can stop them. 

You don’t talk again. Not properly. But there’s something shifting now. You feel it in the way he looks at you longer than he should. In the way your fingers brushed his wrist earlier when he handed you a strong cocktail and didn’t pull away. In the way you can still feel his hands on your skin, hours later. 

Something’s changed. 

And you’re not sure which one of you is going to do something about it first. 

You can’t sleep. 

The villa’s quiet now - except for the creak of floorboards, the occasional pipe knocking in the wall, and the soft echo of wind sliding through open windows. Everyone else is either passed out drunk or tangled up in someone else’s sheets. The hallways feel like a lull, soaked in summer and moonlight. 

You’re curled up in bed, too warm to get under the covers, wearing nothing but the old, oversized hoodie and a faint sunburn still blooming across your thighs. You didn’t mean to put this one on - it was just at the top of your bag. Familiar, soft, slightly too big. 

Lando’s hoodie. 

You don’t even think he knows you kept it. One of those late - night party things - he tossed it to you on a balcony and never asked for it back. 

You’re not planning to see him tonight. Not thinking about the way he touched your back earlier. Not thinking about how he looked at you like he wanted to touch more. 

Your phone’s propped up on a pillow, volume low, screen lit with one of his old Silverstone onboard replays. There’s something soothing about it. The smooth rhythm of the track, the flick of the steering wheel in his gloved hands. He’s in control. Sharp. Focused.  You wonder what it’s like to make him lose that focus. 

The door creaks open. 

You sit up fast, yanking your blanket over the bottom hem of your hoodie. “What the - ” 

“Shit - ” a familiar voice mutters. “Sorry. Fuck.” 

Lando. 

He’s shirtless, in just sweats, hair a little damp like he showered but didn’t bother to dry it. His eyes are slightly wide as he sees you, as if his brain’s still catching up with what he just walked into. 

“I thought this was - ” He looks over his shoulder. “That’s not - yeah, this is definitely not my room.” 

You should say something - ask why he’s even trying to come in when most people are already knocked out for the night. 

But his eyes are stuck on your hoodie.  His hoodie.  You’re half - curled up, one leg bare up to the thigh, the hem bunched at the top of them, collar slipped low enough to show your collarbones and just a hint of skin underneath. 

“You wear that often?” he asks, voice a little hoarse. 

Your heart kicks up, fast. 

“You gave it to me.” 

“Didn’t think you kept it.” 

You shrug, hoping your face doesn’t give too much away. “Didn’t think you wanted it back.” 

He steps further into the room - slow, quiet - until he’s leaning against the inside of your door and shutting it softly behind him. 

You look at him.  He looks at you. 

Then, finally, he speaks - quiet, but direct. 

“You’re not telling me to leave.” 

You swallow. 

“Do you want me to?” you ask. 

His voice is lower now. “No.” 

You shift on the bed, pulse starting to hammer in your ears. “Then don’t.” 

He stands there for a second longer, like he’s giving you a moment to change your mind. And then he’s walking forward. 

He stands at the edge of the bed, eyes dark in the low light. One hand lift - slow, deliberate - and pulls at the blanket until he brushes your knee from where it peeks from under the hoodie. 

“You look good in that,” Lando says, voice soft, hoarse. 

You smile, lips parted. “Thought you said it wasn’t yours.” 

He huffs a quiet laugh. “Was trying to stay sane.” 

“Why?” 

He leans in, fingers tracing up your thigh, grazing higher until your breath catches. “Because if I thought about you in this hoodie too long, I’d do something stupid.” 

Your hands fist into the sheets. “Like what?” 

“Like this.” 

He kisses you hard - not rushed, but urgent. Like he’s been waiting, wanting, and now that he has you, he’s not wasting a second. You meet him halfway, fingers threading through his damp curls, hoodie riding up over your hips as he shifts between your knees and deepens the kiss. 

His hands slide up your bare thighs, slow and reverent, thumbs dragging soft circles. You gasp into his mouth when one hand cups the back of your thigh, spreading you further apart so he can settle between them. 

“Still not telling me to leave,” he murmurs against your skin, lips trailing along your jaw. 

“I’d kick your ass if you tried.” 

The room is barely lit by the faint glow of the bedside lamp. Shadows drape the corners, but the air is thick with heat - your heat, his heat - heavy enough to make every breath feel sticky and urgent. 

Lando’s sitting on the edge of the bed, bare chest rising and falling slowly, muscles tense as he watches you. The oversized hoodie you’re wearing - his hoodie - hangs loosely, but every inch of skin you show feels like a dare. 

You flip over his lap to kneel in front of him, heart hammering hard against your ribs. His cock is already hard, proud and aching beneath the loose sweats he’s left hanging low on his hips. His breath catches when you reach out, your fingers warm as they close around him over the fabric. 

“You sure about this?” he asks, voice low and rough, eyes dark and hooded with want. 

You smile, cheeks flushed and lean in closer, tugging down his waistband, “You’re the one who walked into the wrong room.” 

His hands find your hair before you can even move - gentle but insistent, threading through your curls as you lean forward, mouth parting to tease the tip of him. He groans softly, air escaping through his clenched teeth, and you know this is going to be slow, deliberate. 

You take him into your mouth, starting light - teasing with your tongue, lips barely brushing the sensitive head. His fingers tighten in your hair, nails grazing your scalp, holding you in place even as you pull back, just enough to make him desperate. 

“Fuck, you’re driving me crazy,” he rasps, his hips pressing forward instinctively. 

You hum around him, licking a slow stripe from base to tip, sucking just enough to pull a deep moan from his throat. His hands tighten, gripping the sheets as you bob your head slowly, tasting him, swallowing every hitch of breath he makes. 

When you take him deeper, your throat tightens, the stretch delicious and thrilling. He gasps, hips jerking up just a little, and you feel it - the pulse of his arousal, steady and strong. You slow down, using your tongue to circle the head, flicking the underside with precision that sends shivers through him. 

“God, you’re so good,” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper. 

His free hand slips to your waist, pulling you up close, and you wrap your arms around his thighs, holding him steady. You want to hear everything - every ragged breath, every curse falling from his lips. 

The way his hips start to grind forward against your mouth, desperate for more. 

His fingers dig into your hair, tugging lightly, and you take it as permission to go deeper - slow, steady, careful. You feel his body tense, muscles flexing as he rides the wave you’re building, his breath hitching in ragged bursts. 

When his hips jerk sharply and he releases a low growl, you swallow him down fully, holding him there as long as you can. He curses your name, gripping your hair harder, and when he pulls away, his lips are swollen, breathless. 

You look up, cheeks flushed, and meet his eyes - glazed, heavy with want and need. 

Without a word, he reaches out and pulls you to your feet, hands on your waist firm and sure. His mouth is back on yours instantly, a kiss that’s both desperate and possessive, teeth grazing your lower lip as he pulls you backward onto the bed. 

His hands roam your body with purpose, sliding beneath the hem of the hoodie, fingers finding bare skin with reverent curiosity. You arch into his touch, heart pounding as he trails kisses down your neck, over your collarbone, whispering soft promises between each press of his lips. 

He moves with slow, sure confidence, pushing the hoodie up over your head and tossing it aside like it’s been burning him all night. 

“You’re all mine,” he breathes, voice thick. 

You shiver, overwhelmed by the warmth of his hands, the heat radiating off his body as he trails down your stomach, palms flat and sure. His fingers brush the waistband of your shorts, hesitating just a second before sliding beneath. 

Every nerve ending in your body sings as he removes your shorts and panties in one smooth motion, exposing you completely. 

He kisses the inside of your thigh, lips soft and warm, fingers tracing lazy circles around your hip bones. 

When he finally parts your legs, his eyes darken, focused, hungry. 

He leans in and presses a kiss to your clit, teasing with his tongue in long, slow flicks that make you bite back a moan. 

His mouth wraps around you, warm and wet and demanding, and you clutch his hair, hips rocking forward into him without thinking. 

“Shh,” he murmurs against you, voice low and serious. “Gotta keep it down.” 

You bite your lip, nodding, desperate to keep quiet but drowning in the sensation of his tongue and mouth working magic. He hums, flicks his tongue faster, and you feel the coil tightening deep inside you. 

His hand slides between your legs, fingers teasing your entrance, brushing just the tip before pulling back to focus on your clit again. 

You’re trembling, breath coming in short, desperate gasps, hands grasping at his shoulders as he pulls you closer. 

When you come, it’s a shattered, stifled cry buried in his neck, fingers digging into his scalp as your body clenches around his mouth. 

He holds you through it, slow and steady, until you’re shuddering and soft again. 

Then, gently, he pulls back and grins up at you - wild, messy, utterly undone. 

“You taste like everything I want.” 

You laugh breathlessly and push him down, straddling him as his hands settle on your hips. 

You take your time, rolling your hips, sinking down slowly, savouring every inch. 

His hands grip your waist tight as you ride him - slow, deep, unrelenting. 

The only sounds in the room are your gasps, his moans, and skin sliding against skin. 

You lean down, kissing him hard, teeth clashing, tongues tangling as you move together - a perfect, messy rhythm. 

When he’s close, you bite his shoulder, smile against his skin, and whisper, “Not so quiet now, huh?” 

He laughs low and growls, “I’m not gonna last much longer.” 

You pick up the pace, bouncing harder, nails gripping his chest as he buries his face in your neck, fingers clutching your hips. 

And when he comes, it’s explosive - deep, guttural, his body trembling beneath you as he spills inside you. 

You ride out the waves together, panting and slick, limbs tangled. 

When it’s over, he pulls you close, pressing kisses along your jaw and whispering, “That was worth walking into the wrong room.”

The morning spills into the room like warm honey. 

Golden light streaks across the sheets, catching on dust suspended in the still air. Outside the window, someone’s already put music on too loud - something distant and summery and muffled by the thick villa walls. But in here, it’s all quiet. 

You shift under the covers, muscles pleasantly sore, skin warm from where Lando’s body presses into yours. He’s still half - asleep, one arm flung over your stomach, curls mussed against the pillow. You breathe him in sunscreen and sweat, salt and something softer. Like linen and heat. 

His hand tightens slightly at your waist, thumb brushing absentmindedly against your hip bone. It’s the kind of touch that says he's still here, even in his sleep. 

You turn toward him, nose brushing his jaw. 

“Lando,” you whisper, low and quiet, just to see if he’s awake. 

Lando hums sleepily as you kiss his chin. “Mmm, you’re up early.” 

“Not really,” you mumble. “I think it’s nearly noon.” 

He groans. “We should hide. Stay in here all day.” 

You smile. “You drooled on my pillow.” 

He growls softly, burying his face in your neck. “Could be worse. Could’ve been your chest.” 

You laugh, legs tangling with his. “You’re disgusting.” 

“Last night you said I was talented.” 

“I said you were decent.” 

He grins sleepily against your skin, voice still thick. “You came twice. At least give me ‘skilled.’” 

You roll your eyes, trying not to smile too hard - but you’re glowing, skin flushed from more than just the heat. 

His hand slips lower, resting over the swell of your ass, fingers tracing lazy shapes again. You’re not doing anything, not going anywhere. It’s rare - to feel like this. Not just satisfied but settled. 

Until -  

“OH MY GOD.” 

The door slams open, and you flinch, instinctively yanking the blanket up to your chin. 

Lando groans so loudly it’s borderline feral. “No. Nope. Out.” 

Oscar is standing in the doorway, already in swim trunks and a bucket hat, holding a protein shake in one hand like a fucking trophy. Squinting into the light like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. 

“I KNEW IT,” he yells, pointing at you both. “Fifty bucks, bitches!” 

You blink, dazed. “What - ?” 

“I told Lily it would happen before the weekend was over,” Oscar continues, stepping just one inch further into the room like he’s inspecting evidence. “She said you’d pussy out. Guess who was right.” 

You blink. “Wait, you two - bet on us?” 

Oscar shrugs. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And then you started wearing that hoodie again. It was obvious.” 

Lando rolls over and shoves a pillow over his head. “Oscar I swear to God - ” 

“Hey, don’t blame me, you could’ve been subtle. But noooo, you had to be all hoodie and eye fucking by the pool.” 

You groan. “How long were people watching us?” 

Oscar snorts. “We have eyes.“ 

“Congrats, by the way,” he says, like he’s handing out a wedding gift. It’s when he sips at his gym bottle and hisses, you realise there’s probably tequila in there, “Try not to traumatize the maid staff.” 

And then he’s gone. 

The door clicks shut again. 

Silence. 

You both stare at the ceiling for a second before bursting into laughter. 

Lando turns toward you, dragging you under him again, smirking like an idiot. “We are never living this down” 

“I kinda don’t care” 

He hums, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You gonna wear that hoodie again?” 

You grin. “Only if I want everyone to know what I let you do to me last night.” 

He pauses. Smirks. 

“Bold of you to assume I’m not wearing it next.” 

You shove him lightly, laughing, as he tackles you back into the sheets, messy and warm and unbothered - a little wrecked, a little teased, and a whole lot in trouble. 

But somehow, it feels kind of perfect. 

meet the models after the show ( epilogue ) :

It’s the last morning at the villa. 

People are packing. Doors opening, zippers skimming across tile. Half - melted iced coffees line the kitchen counter, and someone’s already yelling about who stole their charger. 

You’re still in Lando’s bed. 

Still in his hoodie. 

Still not ready to move. 

He walks back into the room with two mugs in hand - both his. One is basic ceramic with your initials scratched in red nail polish. The other says World’s Fastest Slut in hideous bubble font. 

He doesn’t even flinch when he hands you that one. 

“You’re really still wearing that thing?” he says, nodding to the hoodie swallowing your frame. 

You raise an eyebrow and sip your coffee. “You say that like you weren’t staring every time I wore it.” 

He shrugs, dropping onto the bed beside you. “Just surprised you never took it off.” 

You smirk. “Why would I? It’s comfy. Smells good. Annoys Oscar.” 

“Ah,” he nods, mock serious. “You stayed in my hoodie out of spite.” 

You hum. “Mostly. Partially because it makes my legs look good.” 

His gaze drags down. “Can confirm.” 

You blink. “You gonna tell Oscar that ?” 

“Absolutely not. He’s been insufferable since he ‘won’ a bet that didn’t exist.” 

You laugh, and he leans forward, catching your chin gently with his fingers. You try not to smile, but he leans forward and nudges your knee with his. 

“You’re still coming back to mine after this, right?” he asks, casual, but his tone softens halfway through. 

You blink. “Did I say I was?” 

He gives you that look - head tilted, lashes low, mouth twitching like he’s holding back something cocky. “You didn’t have to.” 

You take another slow sip of coffee. “Hmm. That so?” 

He leans in closer, fingers brushing the hem of the hoodie as he murmurs, “Only condition is… if you keep stealing my clothes, I get to start stealing your time.” 

You snort. “That was corny as hell.” 

“Did it work?” 

You meet his eyes, and yeah - it did. 

You set the mug down and pull him toward you, letting him kiss you slow, like the world isn’t about to start moving again. His hand curls over your thigh, his smile warm against your lips. 

When he pulls back, you sigh into his shoulder. “Okay. Fine. I’ll come back with you.” 

“Knew it,” he says smugly. 

“On one condition,” you add. 

He raises a brow. 

“I keep the hoodie.” 

Lando grins, eyes half - lidded. “Deal.” 

You settle back into the bed, sun rising behind you, the sound of car engines and goodbyes faint in the background. But here, it’s just him. You. And the hoodie you’re never giving back. 

[buckyseternaldoll]

Every Inch, Every Corner

—based on this ask by @iamthatonefangirl ❤️‍🔥

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: New apartment. Three bedrooms. One goal: christen every inch of it. You thought Bucky bought this place for comfort. He had other intentions.

Disclaimer: 18+ (mdni!), explicit smut content, p in v, masturbation, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, edging, creampie, exhibitionism/voyeuristic risk, soft dom!Bucky, praise kink, mild dirty talk, domestic setting, emotional sex, Alpine the cat, idk what else?

Author's Note: I hope I did justice with what Bri requested. Comments, likes, reblogs are always much appreciated! 💜

It was nearly noon by the time the last of the movers left, their heavy boots thudding down the hallway and fading into silence. You stood in the middle of your new apartment—three bedrooms, three bathrooms, a real kitchen you could twirl in, and a living room so spacious you could finally host friends without having someone sit on your laundry basket.

The entire place was a mess of half-labeled boxes, suitcases with open zippers, a rolled-up rug leaning against the hallway wall, and a fresh pile of discarded tape and bubble wrap. But it was yours. Yours and Bucky’s.

“I’m thinking… sofa right here,” you said, stepping toward the living room, bare feet brushing over the cool hardwood floor. “With that emerald velvet cover I showed you—remember? And maybe a gold standing lamp in the corner to match the kitchen handles. Not too shiny, but enough to make it pop.”

Bucky leaned against the wall just a few steps behind you, arms crossed, tight blue shirt stretched deliciously over his chest. He wasn’t really listening—not to your decor ideas, anyway. Not when you were wearing that little pink tank top that clung to your chest with no bra underneath, the softest curve of your nipples visible through the fabric. And those black biker shorts? They hugged your ass like a second skin. He had a hard time deciding if you were giving him a tour or a tease.

“You’re really into gold accents lately,” he murmured, eyes trained shamelessly on your backside as you bent slightly to peek inside an open box labeled BOOKS & IDK STUFFS??

You straightened with a proud smile. “Classy but warm,” you replied, oblivious to the tension building behind you. “And I was thinking of calling the big bedroom ours, the medium one the library-slash-guest room, and the small one can be Alpine’s.”

As if summoned, the little white cat padded out from behind a stack of flattened cardboard, hopping gracefully onto the only unboxed chair you’d brought from the old apartment. She blinked slowly at Bucky like she knew exactly what was about to happen and wanted no part in it.

You turned again, all smiles, hands on your hips. “I can’t wait to christen the place.”

Bucky blinked. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “You know, get everything set up. Little finishing touches. Candle holders. Floating shelves. Just need a few trips to IKEA, and—why are you smiling like that?”

He didn’t answer right away. That cheeky grin spread wider across his face—the same one he wore when you caught him stashing Oreos under the bed or trying to convince Alpine to wear a tiny shield-shaped collar tag.

You followed his gaze… down.

Oh.

There was a very obvious tent in his jeans.

Your lips parted in a half-laugh, half-gasp. “Bucky.”

He shrugged, unrepentant. “When you said ‘christen the place,’ that’s not exactly what I thought you meant.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“You love it,” he smirked, pushing off the wall. He closed the distance between you in just a few steps, hands ghosting over your hips before settling firmly on your waist. “Doll, you walk around here in this outfit, looking all glowy and excited like this is Christmas morning, and expect me not to pop a boner?”

You opened your mouth to respond but were interrupted when his fingers dipped down, teasing the waistband of your shorts. He didn’t pull—yet. Just teased. Just tested the way your breath hitched and your lips twitched like you were trying not to grin.

“I was gonna wait,” he whispered, his voice a little lower now, right at the shell of your ear. “But you’re making it real hard.”

“Bucky, we haven’t even unpacked.”

“You want me to wait until the couch is in place? That’s cruel,” he grinned.

You tried to stay strong, but the way his warm hands slipped around to cup your ass… the way he kissed the side of your neck so tenderly, then pulled back with a half-growl when your body arched into him?

Yeah, you were already melting.

“Fine,” you whispered, breath shaky. “But only a quick one. We have a whole apartment to—oh.”

His fingers slid beneath the waistband now, down past the stretch of your shorts, past the soft pink lace of your panties. He found your folds instantly, already slick with anticipation.

“Already soaked, baby,” he murmured, lips brushing yours. “So much for a quick one.”

You gasped as he rubbed slow, deliberate circles over your clit, the wet sounds obscene in the open space of the bare apartment. Alpine jumped off the chair with a soft mrrp, tail flicking as she trotted out of the room like she couldn’t deal with her humans being horny again.

Your hands flew to Bucky’s shoulders, gripping the thick muscle through his shirt for support. “God, your fingers—Bucky…”

He groaned at the way you whispered his name like a prayer. His metal hand held you steady at the hip while the other worked you open, one finger sliding in, then another, curling just right.

The heat built too fast. You buried your face in his neck, whining into his skin, hips rocking forward against his palm.

He pulled back just a little. “Wanna make you come with my fingers,” he rasped. “Right here. First thing we do in this place.”

You did. And you did—trembling, clutching him, jaw slack as your body tightened and released in wave after wave of sharp, burning pleasure.

Before you even came down from it, he gently pulled his fingers from you, brought them to his mouth, and sucked them clean. “Fuck, doll. That taste might be my new favorite part of the house.”

You dropped to your knees before he could even finish his sentence.

His eyes darkened instantly. “Oh, you’re gonna—fuck—”

You didn’t give him time to talk. You reached for his belt, made quick work of his fly, and tugged his jeans and boxers down enough for his cock to spring free. Already flushed, hard, leaking at the tip.

“Jesus,” he hissed as you licked a stripe up his length. “You’re killing me.”

“Good,” you muttered, then took him into your mouth—slow at first, then deeper, letting your tongue drag along the underside of his cock. His hand fisted in your hair, not pushing, just grounding himself. His breath stuttered, hips barely moving, eyes locked on yours as you looked up and moaned around him.

“Fuck—shit, sweetheart, I’m—” He tried to warn you, but you didn’t stop. You wanted it. Every twitch, every ragged breath, every drop.

He came with a groan, head falling back, his hand tightening just enough in your hair to anchor himself as he pulsed on your tongue.

When you finally pulled back, lips glistening and panting softly, he stared at you like you’d just performed a miracle.

“Okay,” you grinned breathlessly, tucking him back into his jeans. “Now that’s a proper christening.”

—

Your legs were still shaking slightly when you peeled yourself off the floor, using the edge of a nearby box to steady yourself. You hadn’t even made it an hour into moving day and already Bucky had you wrecked—with nothing but his fingers and that damn smirk.

You tried to recover. Really, you did. Tugging your tank top back down, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand like it would hide the fact you just sucked your boyfriend off in the living room of your new apartment. Alpine was nowhere in sight—probably off in a box somewhere judging you silently.

“I was saying before you got all handsy,” you muttered, voice still hoarse, “I think we can keep the island clean, but maybe hang some open shelves overhead. Keep the kitchen looking open. You can reach high stuff—tall freak.”

Bucky’s footsteps padded slowly behind you as you stepped into the kitchen. The place was bright, spacious, with pale wood floors and a long marble island in the center. You ran your hand over the smooth surface, picturing where the bar stools would go.

“Still thinking about shelving, huh?” he murmured behind you.

You didn’t even have time to turn. His hands wrapped around your waist, then slid lower, over your hips, his front pressing against your back.

“I just sucked you off,” you laughed, playfully exasperated. “Shouldn’t you be in a coma or something?”

“You’re in that little pink tank, no panties now, talking about where to put gold accents while strutting around like that—and you think I’m the problem?”

You tried to twist out of his grip, half-giggling. “Let me finish my sentence for once—”

But he cut you off with a sharp tug at your hips, bending you over the kitchen island with such ease you gasped. Your bare thighs hit the cool stone surface, and you shivered. He stepped behind you again, hands firm as he spread your legs wider.

“Bucky—”

“You said you wanted to christen the place,” he said, voice gravelly now, deep and hungry. “I’m just getting to the kitchen.”

You tried to turn, but then his hand slid between your legs—again. You were still soaked from earlier. Maybe even wetter now.

“Fuck,” he hissed, running two fingers through your slick folds. “You’re dripping, sweetheart.”

“God—just fuck me already,” you whined.

“Oh? Bossy all of a sudden.”

He didn’t need more convincing. His jeans were halfway down in seconds, boxers shoved just low enough to free his cock. He grabbed your ass with both hands, kneading, spreading, teasing you with the head of his cock—sliding it through your folds but not giving you what you needed yet.

“Bucky.”

That one-word plea did it.

He pushed in slow, and you cried out, hands scrambling for purchase on the cold marble, back arching. He was big, thick, and filled you just right—especially from this angle, deep and perfect.

“Fuck—feels so fucking good,” he groaned, already starting to move, one hand pressing down between your shoulder blades to keep you bent, the other gripping your waist tight.

Your moans bounced off the bare walls, echoing in the empty space. The slap of skin meeting skin filled the air. Bucky pounded into you hard, rougher than earlier, like he couldn’t get enough. You weren’t sure if he was trying to break the kitchen in or break you.

“Listen to how wet you are,” he grunted. “Dripping all over our brand new kitchen.”

You whimpered into your arm, half-embarrassed, half turned on beyond reason.

He leaned down, chest pressed against your back, whispering into your ear as he thrust deep. “You’re gonna think of this every time you come in here. Every time you cook something, stand right here—gonna remember how I bent you over and made you scream.”

You were already close. He knew it. He felt the way your walls fluttered around him, the way your moans climbed higher with every thrust.

Then he reached down and rubbed your clit with his vibranium fingers, just the right pressure.

That was it.

You came with a sharp cry, gripping the countertop, knees threatening to buckle. He groaned behind you, pushed in deep one final time, and came with you—filling you while muttering your name like it was the only word he knew.

—

You stayed like that for a few seconds, both of you panting, still joined, sticky and ruined against the counter. Then—

Ding-dong.

Your eyes snapped open. “Shit.”

Bucky laughed softly, pulling out with a quiet hiss, already tucking himself away. “You order lunch?”

“Maybe…” You wobbled as you tried to stand, legs still trembling. “You were busy. I got hungry.”

“Hungry, huh?” he teased, helping you straighten. “Not just for me?”

You shoved him lightly, making your way toward the door while trying to fix your hair. “Shut up and go get the food.”

By the time you’d grabbed napkins and water bottles, Bucky returned with a brown paper bag and a smug grin. “Chicken pesto sandwiches. And cookies.”

You grinned, reaching for the sandwich. “See? I knew you were good for something.”

You perched on one of the stools by the island, now finally used for its actual purpose. You’d thrown your panties back on, too lazy to reach for your shorts, but the tank still hung loose on your sticky skin. Bucky sat beside you, still in his tight shirt, hair slightly mussed.

You took one bite and groaned in delight. “God, food after sex? Everything tastes ten times better.”

Bucky hummed. “Yeah. Tastes even better when you’re sitting there all cute with my cum still inside you.”

You nearly choked on your sandwich. “James!”

He only smirked. “Just saying. You look good.”

Your eyes narrowed, and you knew that tone. Mischief.

You caught the gleam in his eye just a second too late—his vibranium hand slid over your thigh, fingers brushing between your legs. You tensed.

“Don’t.”

“Why not?” He traced over the damp lace of your panties. “You’re already wet again, sweetheart.”

Your breath hitched. “We’re eating.”

“And I’m multitasking,” he whispered, leaning closer to nibble at your earlobe.

His fingers circled slowly, deliberately. You clenched your thighs around his hand, but he was relentless—teasing your folds through the fabric, the cold metal making your whole body twitch.

“I swear to God, if I drop this sandwich—”

“You’ll still be satisfied.”

—

You couldn’t focus after lunch. Not really.

Your legs still felt a little unsteady, thighs sore in the best way, and every time you tried to sit still, you felt the soft pulse of oversensitivity between your legs—courtesy of your boyfriend’s vibranium fingers and very distracting cock.

So you wandered. You peeked into the second bedroom while Bucky cleaned up the wrappers. This one already had a bed frame dragged in, your slightly worn daybed from the old apartment sitting in the middle of the room under the window. The room was bare, boxes scattered around labeled LINENS and GUEST STUFFS, but the late afternoon sun made it glow.

You sat down with a soft huff, fingers tracing the stitching of the mattress. “Maybe this could be the reading room. Get one of those old-school lamps. A rug. Big bookshelf right here.”

Bucky leaned against the doorframe behind you, drying his hands with a paper towel. “Mm. Reading room, huh?”

You nodded. “Or an office.”

He tilted his head. “Or…”

You arched a brow.

He stepped closer, slow and calm, like a man on a mission. “Could be the place I sit down and watch you ride me for a while.”

You tried to fight your smile. Failed. “Oh, so now you’re christening the guest room too?”

“I said I’d break in every inch of this place,” he murmured, voice softer now as he came to stand between your legs. “Not my fault you brought in a perfectly good excuse to sit down.”

His hands found your waist again, warm and steady. You let your own drift down to his hips, fingers brushing over the hem of his shirt.

“Okay,” you breathed. “Then sit.”

He obeyed.

He sat back against the armrest of the daybed, legs spread just enough to invite you in—half lounging like it was a couch, but the mattress beneath him creaked faintly like it knew what was coming.

You climbed into his lap, facing him. His hands immediately went to your thighs, dragging them apart so you could straddle him fully, knees braced on either side of his legs. His gaze never left yours as you reached for the hem of your tank top and slowly pulled it off over your head.

“Jesus, baby…” he whispered, eyes dragging down to your bare chest.

You grinned, leaning in to kiss him—slow and deep—while his hands moved to tug your panties down. They caught around one ankle before you kicked them off.

Then it was just you. Naked, flushed, and needy, sinking down onto him inch by inch, gasping into his mouth as he filled you.

It was slower this time. Softer. No frantic pounding or growled teasing—just the quiet rhythm of your bodies finding each other again. You rode him with long, rolling movements, arms draped over his shoulders, hips tilting just right to drag friction along your clit.

Bucky held you like you were fragile. Like he was scared he might break you if he moved too fast. His mouth was everywhere—your neck, your collarbone, the soft swell of your breasts. You lost track of how many times he whispered “so beautiful,” or how tight he held your waist when you clenched around him and moaned.

At one point, Alpine trotted in, hopped up onto a box, and stared. You caught her in your peripheral vision and burst out laughing—halfway through a slow grind, no less.

“Oh my God,” you giggled. “She’s judging us.”

Bucky laughed, breathless, still inside you. “She’s gonna need therapy.”

“She’s your cat.”

“And she’ll be traumatized by you,” he smirked, tilting up to kiss you again.

You came like that. Laughing, gasping, forehead pressed to his, walls fluttering around him as his hands gripped your hips tighter. He followed with a quiet, guttural moan, holding you close as he spilled into you again, hips twitching beneath yours.

You slumped against him afterward, sweaty and blissed out, your heart pounding against his chest.

“Library room, huh?” he murmured into your hair.

“Still calling it that,” you mumbled. “We’ll just… clean the daybed later.”

—

You’d meant to take a break after that one. You really did.

But then you passed the smallest room—the one you’d casually declared “Alpine’s room”—and paused in the doorway. There was nothing inside but a few scattered boxes and that massive window. The glass stretched wide, overlooking the apartment complex across the park. From here, you could clearly see rows of other windows. Some had blinds. Some didn’t.

The thrill hit first. The subtle spike of adrenaline, the heat curling low in your belly.

And Bucky… Bucky noticed your pause.

“You’re thinking something dirty again,” he murmured behind you.

“Maybe.”

“Tell me.”

You stepped inside, hands skimming the windowsill. “If someone were watching, they’d see everything.”

He came up behind you—now shirtless, jeans undone. “Curtains drawn across,” he noted. “But not fully.”

Your heart pounded.

“Bucky—”

He spun you gently, kissed you fast and hungry, then turned you again, guiding you to lean forward until your bare chest pressed to the cool glass.

“This what you want?” he whispered, voice darker now. “Want someone to see what I do to you?”

You whimpered. “They might. Anyone could be—”

“Exactly.”

He stripped what little you had left—your panties had already been tossed, and now his jeans and boxers hit the floor. You were both fully naked. Vulnerable. Lit by daylight and nothing else.

You braced your hands against the window frame, legs parted, heart pounding. Bucky lined up behind you, hands firm on your waist—and slid into you from behind in one smooth, delicious thrust.

You gasped—partly from the stretch, partly from the rush.

He was deeper than before like this. Every push of his hips rocked you forward against the glass, your nipples dragged across the cold surface, breath fogging up your little corner.

“Oh my God—” you whined. “Bucky—”

“Tell me what they’d see,” he growled into your ear. “If they looked up right now.”

“Y-you—fucking me—”

“Harder.”

You choked on a moan. “Fucking me like—like I’m yours.”

“You are mine,” he gritted out, hand tangling in your hair to keep you still as he thrust harder, faster. “Let them fucking watch.”

Your eyes rolled back. He felt wild behind you—possessive, untamed, feral in the best way. You were dizzy with pleasure, heat building fast, moans bouncing off the windows.

You came with a broken cry, pressed against the glass like a framed piece of art—frozen in that perfect moment of filthy bliss.

Bucky wasn’t far behind, groaning deep as he emptied inside you again, teeth grazing the back of your shoulder as he shuddered through his release.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Then you felt it—Alpine brushing past your leg.

You both looked down, wide-eyed. She sat in the doorway, blinking innocently.

“I think she’s following the tour,” you mumbled breathlessly.

Bucky wheezed a laugh, forehead resting on your shoulder. “We’re the worst parents.”

—

You were both sticky and sweat-slicked, bodies glowing under the golden haze of late afternoon. And you definitely smelled like sex.

“Okay,” you panted, still catching your breath as Bucky tugged his jeans back up with a grunt. “We need a reset. Like—soap. And hot water. And at least one clean towel.”

He snorted softly, brushing your hair from your face. “You’re trying to say I stink?”

“I’m saying we both do. Filthy, filthy people.”

You padded toward the bathroom, laughing, Bucky following close behind with Alpine trotting at your ankles. She let out a low mrrrp as if to agree and then parked herself outside the door when you closed it.

The bathroom was echoey and bright, still bare aside from the installed glass shower. You flicked it on and stepped in first, gasping slightly at the rush of heat. Bucky followed, sliding the door closed behind him.

Steam quickly filled the space, and water ran in soft rivulets down his strong chest, highlighting every ridge and scar. You reached for the soap, but his hands caught your waist before you could.

“I’ll do it,” he said, voice soft now—none of the earlier grit, just warmth. “Turn around.”

You obeyed, facing the tiled wall as his hands, slow and reverent, moved over your skin with the lather. He massaged your shoulders first, easing out tension he himself had put there, before moving down your spine, over the curve of your hips.

You let your head fall back against his shoulder, a quiet sigh escaping. “I like this side of you.”

“What side?”

“The one that spoils me rotten.”

He chuckled, kissing your damp temple. “That’s every side, baby.”

You turned in his arms, arms winding around his neck. He blinked down at you—wet hair hanging in his face, lashes dripping, lips pink and parted.

You kissed him.

It was different than earlier. No rush. No game. Just the slow press of mouths under steaming water, the soft pull of hands over bare skin. When your fingers drifted down and found him half-hard again, he groaned into your mouth.

“Still got more in you?” you whispered.

“I always do for you.”

His hand slid between your thighs again, but this time it wasn’t rough or teasing—it was patient. Worshipful. He touched you like he was memorizing how you liked it, mapping your body with wet palms and slow circles.

You reached down at the same time, wrapping your hand around him. You stroked him in time with the rhythm he gave you, both of you gasping quietly, breathing each other in.

It didn’t take much. You were already sensitive, raw from the earlier rounds, and the intimacy only made it worse—better.

You came quietly this time, biting his shoulder as your body trembled. He followed not long after, pulsing in your hand with a low groan against your neck.

Afterward, you stayed in the spray, holding onto each other like you didn’t quite want to move yet. The water washed you clean, but the warmth between you stayed.

—

The mattress had no frame yet, but you didn’t care. It was huge, soft, and familiar—and right now, it looked like heaven.

You stepped out of the bathroom in just his old, oversized black shirt and a fresh pair of panties. Bucky was already on the bed, sprawled in nothing but a clean pair of black boxers, arms behind his head, hair damp and messy. He looked so relaxed, so at ease, like he belonged there. Like you belonged there.

Alpine was curled up at the edge of the bed, paws tucked under her body, dozing peacefully.

You crawled in beside him, sighing as the mattress dipped beneath you.

“Y’know,” you murmured, resting your chin on his bare chest, “this might actually feel like home.”

His hand slid up your back, fingers splayed between your shoulder blades. “It already is.”

You smiled. “Still have one more place to christen, though.”

He raised a brow. “Didn’t we already—”

“I meant,” you interrupted, swinging a leg over to straddle his hips, “the master bedroom.”

His grin returned slowly, sleepily. “Can’t argue with tradition.”

This time, he let you lead. You tugged his boxers down, letting him spring free beneath you. You rolled your hips slowly, teasing him along your folds before finally sinking down, eyes locked on his.

It was quiet.

The kind of quiet that wasn’t empty—but full. Full of love. Full of promises. Full of things left unspoken but understood between every slow thrust.

His hands cupped your waist gently, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts as you rode him with soft moans, letting your body melt into his.

“Fuck, you feel so good like this,” he whispered. “So warm. So close.”

You leaned down, foreheads brushing. “I love you.”

He pulled you down fully, wrapping his arms around you, whispering the words back into your skin again and again as you both moved together.

You came together that time—his name whispered into his mouth, your nails curling into his shoulders. He held you tight, keeping you wrapped in his warmth as your body trembled, riding out the waves.

You slumped against him afterward, breathing unevenly, your body boneless, skin damp with afterglow.

Bucky smoothed his palm along your spine, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You okay, baby?”

You hummed, half-asleep already. “Fine. Just… can’t move.”

He chuckled, low and smug. “I could go again.”

You groaned softly against his chest. “Of course you could.”

“Super soldier, sweetheart,” he said with a lazy grin. “Stamina for days.”

He paused, brushing a damp strand of hair from your cheek.

“But I’ll stop. ’Cause I know you need rest. You’re my priority, not my toy.”

Your chest tightened at that. That softness in his voice. The gentle weight of his arm holding you close.

“Good,” you whispered. “Because if you didn’t stop, I’d have to start planning your funeral.”

He laughed, kissed your hair again. “You’d miss me too much.”

You both lay there in the warmth of your new bed, the quiet settling around you like a blanket. Alpine stayed curled in her corner, purring faintly.

“You tired?” he asked, voice lower now.

“Mmm. Just resting.”

“You know we’ve got sunrise in a few hours.”

You smiled into his chest. “We’ve got one more spot left, huh?”

He grinned, voice dropping an octave. “The balcony?”

“Mmhm.”

“Doll,” he murmured, brushing a thumb along your jaw, “I can’t wait.”

—

The sky was just starting to blush pink by the time you stirred again—warm, tangled in sheets, sore in places you didn’t even know could get sore.

The clock read 5:27am.

Bucky was already awake.

He laid beside you, one arm curled under your body, watching the morning light creep across your skin. He was calm, quiet, but his fingers were gently tracing along the bare curve of your hip beneath his shirt. His shirt. The one you were still wearing. The only thing you were wearing.

“You awake, doll?”

You hummed, nuzzling into his chest. “Barely.”

He kissed your hairline, voice low and coaxing. “Sun’s coming up.”

You blinked lazily. “And?”

“And we’ve got a balcony with our name on it.”

Your breath caught—half from excitement, half from the memory of what he said yesterday. One more place to christen.

“You serious?” you mumbled.

“I brought a blanket,” he grinned.

You laughed under your breath. “God, you really are a menace.”

But you followed him anyway. Alpine blinked up at you from her perch by the window as if saying, Again? Really? before tucking her head back down.

You stepped out onto the balcony barefoot, the morning air sharp against your skin. It was quiet—too early for traffic, too late for late-night stragglers. The park below was still asleep, mist curling along the grass.

The breeze lifted the hem of Bucky’s blanket just as he dropped it onto the cushioned bench against the far wall. He turned to face you, fully naked, his metal hand catching the edge of your shirt and tugging it up and over your head in one smooth pull.

You stood there in nothing, nipples pebbling from the cold, your body on full display under the soft blue light of early morning.

Bucky looked at you like you were the only thing on earth that mattered.

“No one’s watching,” you whispered, just to test him.

“They could,” he murmured, stepping close. “That’s what makes it fun.”

You didn’t argue.

You kissed him, and that was it—hands flying, mouths desperate. He spun you, pressed your back to the railing, the metal cold on your spine. Your legs parted instinctively as he lifted you onto the edge, steadying you with both hands.

He slid into you with one smooth, deep thrust.

Your gasp was sharp, loud in the stillness of dawn. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he rocked into you, the angle perfect like this—your hips tilted back, legs wrapped around his waist, exposed to the world.

“Bucky—”

“You’re so fucking perfect like this,” he breathed. “Wide open, moaning my name—anyone looking out their window right now could see you. See how well I fuck you. How much you love it.”

You could barely speak. You gripped the rail behind you, trying to ground yourself as he thrust into you harder, deeper. His pace was steady but rough, claiming.

When he started to twitch inside you, you pushed gently on his chest. “Wait—wanna try something.”

He blinked, dazed and breathless. “Yeah?”

You dropped to your knees.

Right there. On your balcony. Naked. Dawn breaking behind you.

He hissed as you licked him clean of your arousal, sucking him back into your mouth slow, tongue swirling, moaning low in your throat just to watch him shudder.

His hands cradled your head. “Fuck, baby—fuck, you’re killing me—”

When he was close, you stood again—he caught you by the waist and bent you over the balcony railing.

Raw. Exposed. Anyone with binoculars would see your ass in the air and Bucky railing you from behind like he had a point to prove.

You moaned his name as he slammed into you, your voice echoing faintly off the buildings nearby.

You came with a cry, legs buckling, Bucky gritting out your name as he spilled inside you one last time.

He held you against him for a moment, chest to your back, both of you trembling.

The sun had fully broken over the horizon now, painting everything gold.

You turned your head just enough to meet his eyes.

“Okay,” you whispered, still panting, “now it’s christened.”

He smiled, kissed your shoulder, and wrapped the blanket around both of you. “Home sweet home.”

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. height difference + jjk men — seeing you struggling to initiate a kiss, ft. gojo, nanami, toji, choso

note. super self indulgent once again woopsies

tags. jjk men x female reader (separately). fluff, suggestive themes. size difference obviously: reader is shorter than the characters. little hint of an age gap in toji’s part (you; early 20’s, he early 30’s). reader gets referred to as ‘small, short, adorable’. nicknames used ‘baby, sweetheart, princess, little girl, angel’. includes drabbles for each character.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

“what’s the matter, baby?” satoru easily notices whenever you’re internally debating something. you’d fidget with your clothes, look around and nibble on your bottom lip.

even if you say that it’s nothing, your lover knows that you mean the exact opposite. he walks hand-in-hand with you out of the boutique where he had bought you a pretty dress. his thumb rubs your skin gently, hoping to comfort you with whatever you’re struggling to say.

“it’s uhm,” you finally speak up. satoru halts his steps and tilts his head with a curious pout on his lips. he doesn’t wish to pressure you into anything, so he keeps quiet.

his blue eyes follow your movements from behind his sunglasses. you step closer to him, your small hands travelling up to gently hold onto his jacket. you gulp before balancing your entire body on your toes—creasing your shoes a bit by doing so.

at this point, satoru knows what you’re trying to do. your actions are absolutely adorable and make the sorcerer giggle. he wants nothing more than to squish your cheeks together for being so cute. especially because you’re failing to reach his lips.

“oh, do y’need help maybe?” satoru asks with a smug grin. you frown and try to stand on the tips of your toes, though that didn’t seem enough. your lover needs to lower his head a tad more for you to kiss him.

satoru tilts his head backwards instead. he loves to see you pout and struggle to carry out such an affectionate act. he can’t help it—you’re so fun to tease, “c’mon, you can do it, baby!”

when you give up due to his constant teasing, the white-haired man gasps dramatically. you smack his bicep and turn around with a huff, “forget it.”

before you can take another step away from him—satoru’s hand reaches out to hold your wrist. he pulls you back against his chest, warm palm holding your cheek and tilting your head up so his glossy lips could meet yours.

“sorry,” satoru mutters against your mouth. his tongue sneakily swipes against yours which causes you to squirm. he gives your bottom lip a playful nibble in response, “couldn’t resist teasing you a little.”

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

“welcome home, dear!” you greet kento at the front door as per usual. he sighs in relief and smiles tiredly, appreciating your appearance before him. he seems utterly exhausted from his most recent mission.

“it’s good to see you, sweetheart,” kento shuts the door behind him. he takes off his shoes and places them where they belong before doing the same with his coat. he looks down at you as you help him tidy his belongings, “you’re looking beautiful tonight.”

to say you’re flustered is an understatement. kento always knows just how to get you shy and embarrassed from the casual way he compliments you. you’re in your pyjamas and apron—barefaced with nothing extra going on and yet your lover is completely engrossed by your looks.

“thank you,” you murmur back with a bright smile. kento smiles as well after seeing your happy expression. that’s what he does it for.

you hold kento’s hand and feel its warmth engulf your skin. his palms are a little rough; probably from the hard work he put into those recent missions he did. you look up at the blonde man in front of you and want nothing more than to kiss him—show your gratitude for everything he does for you.

thus, you lean in and stand on your toes, balancing on one foot whilst the other floats a few centimetres above the wooden floor. it’s hard to find a balance, though your attentive partner is quick to lend a hand.

“careful,” kento whispers, his voice so husky that you feel a shiver run down your spine. his big hands settle on your waist and he doesn’t waste a single second after that.

he leans in as well, head lowered to yours and your noses lightly brushing against each other. kento’s lips find your soft ones—interlocking them in a passion filled kiss. you can feel his entire body relax even more. as if he’s waited all day to be back home. to be back to you.

to kiss and hold you close.

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

“over here, princess,” toji calls you over with a subtle wave. he’s leaning against a brick wall, hands in the pockets of his black jacket. you walk over to him with an excited smile—happy to spend some quality time together with him today.

“hey, i missed you,” you comment and wrap your arms around his waist. you nuzzle your face against his chest to which toji reacts by giving you an awkward head pat.

the older man lifts your head up and away from his body by holding onto your chin. his eyes run over your face, letting out a short content hum. he’s missed you a lot too. not that he’d tell you that directly.

“how’s uni for ya?” toji asks. the pad of his thumb rubs your cheek and you lean into his touch. it brings a little smirk to his face—seeing how easily you become putty in his hands is rather amusing.

“been okay for most part,” you shrug and fail to maintain eye contact with your boyfriend. he probably doesn’t do it on purpose, but his half-lidded eyes makes your lower abdomen feel funny.

you’re still so nervous around him, though you’ve got the guts to at least kiss him first. you missed the feeling of his lips against you after all. the constant, soothing rubs of his thumb against your cheek only intensifies your desire.

you lift yourself up on the tips of your shoes. your cold hands cup toji’s face and he immediately gets what you’re trying to do. he snickers at the sight of you struggling to reach him and acts like he doesn’t know what you want.

. . until you whine about how you really want to kiss him. that man is sold the moment he hears your whiny voice.

“fuck. c’mere, little girl,” toji’s veiny hands go around your waist and move down to cup your ass, his lips crashing down onto yours with a desperation he’s never kissed you with before.

𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

“do i need to add salt? she’s talking too fast,” choso ask whilst scratching his head. he’s watching a youtube video on his phone; specifically a cooking one. he’s attempting to copy a recipe in his kitchen and you’re helping him since he doesn’t know too much about phones. and cooking apparently.

you giggle and grab the phone from the counter. the lady’s words are incomprehensible due to the video being on two times the usual speed. you return the settings to normal with a light hearted chuckle, “yeah, because you’ve sped up the video, silly.”

“oh,” choso smiles sheepishly. he checks the stove and makes sure the food isn’t burning before turning towards you, “thank you. you’re a lifesaver, heh.”

you can’t help but admire the view of choso in front of you. he’s in an apron which is too small on him since it’s yours—his chiseled chest accentuated by the fabric. his black hair is up in a small ponytail and his cheeks are red. probably from embarrassment.

“you’re adorable,” you comment lovingly. choso’s cheeks turn even redder by your compliment and he sputters some words about how he ‘needs to focus on his cooking’.

you interrupt his stammers by getting closer. your lover stops and his lips are parted—giving you the perfect chance to capture them into a kiss. well, you try to at least

choso notices your silent struggles and blinks. it takes him a second to fully grasp the situation before he decides on helping you. he smiles warmly, his beefy arms effortlessly lifting you up to his height, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist.

one hand is on your thigh, the other holding the back of your head to deepen your shared kiss. choso pulls away and attaches his lips to your neck, settling you the counter, “want more, angel. you drive me crazy.”

[catnykit]

SEEING TLLR BE SO GOOD EVEN IF ITS JUST AN OC SERIES HAS ASLO INSPIRE ME TO START WRITING MORE AND TO START FOLLOWING FLOATING STEPS SERIES :DDD

YOUR STORIES AINT NOTHING "LITTLE" EITHER🤷‍♀️

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

here’s some wholesome Dew art because he deserves to be happy :3 (also his sweater is supposed to look like colorful firework explosions)

now here i go getting all sentimental under the read more…

first off, thanks @mottinthemainpot and @toyybox for requesting New Years art because i wouldn’t have drawn this otherwise!! it was fun and i love how colorful it turned out :D

also here’s the version without the background

anyway, i have to say that making this blog was one of the biggest highlights of my year. i did so many things that i thought i’d never do! like show my writing to people, post oc stuff… make actual friends. seriously, just creating something that makes other people happy is what i’ve always wanted to do, and i did it! writing and drawing are my favorite hobbies and i’m so so happy that i’m making other people happy by doing what i love more than anything.

i know TLLR may not matter all that much to other people, but it had a huge impact on my life. it caused me to start sharing my stories instead of keeping them in my head, it caused me to come out of my shell and actually talk to people online, and make so many amazing friends that i never would have met otherwise. it made it easier for me to be myself and interact with people, instead of hiding or being too shy like i’ve been doing my whole life. i used to be soo scared of talking to people online, because i thought nobody would like me or i’d be too awkward. but all of your amazing support made me able to do that, made me able to express myself and find a friend group that i can relate to and who likes me for me. that’s something i’ve always wanted, so thank you all!!

ever since i was 12, it was my dream to make something- a series and characters- that inspired others and made people happy (aka the same impact that Gravity Falls had on me). i know TLLR isn’t much, and it’s not super popular or anything, but i’m so unbelievably happy that i created something that makes people excited to read and think about and make art for. i’m so happy i created something that inspires people and makes people happy (even just a little bit). that is honestly all i’ve ever wanted and it makes me excited for all the amazing things i’ll do in the future.

to all of you invested in my silly little story, THANK YOU!!!! without any of your support or kind messages or reactions or art, i literally wouldn’t have made it this far. i remember the first ask i ever got (you know who you are :)) and i just wanna talk about how that affected me. because holy shit, back then, that was the nicest thing anyone had ever said about something i made. i can’t even describe how happy i was when i first read it, like it literally made my entire month. it made me realize that i’m capable of making something that makes people happy. and to everyone who has ever left nice messages about my series, thank you so much again!! because wow, it’s just so surreal that people like my creations. thank you

this is super rambly and completely unplanned, but yeah i just wanted to say thanks for the amazing past few months. i’m so happy i joined this community, everyone here is so nice and it’s led me to make amazing things. even if you don’t read TLLR (i recommend it ehehehe /nf), thanks for following me and supporting me with my art. drawing all those tllr drawings definitely made me improve a lot (this year was also a huge year for my art in general. i’m so proud of myself for how much i’ve improved with my art).

ALSO WRITING!!! my writing has definitely improved thanks to tllr. before this, i just wrote for fun about my other ocs and never showed ANYONE. it wasn’t in chronological order and i didn’t care much for mistakes or perfect grammar or anything. don’t get me wrong, i love the other stuff i wrote for myself, but tllr is by far the best in my opinion. it challenged me to write something not only for myself, but something other people would read. it put me out of my comfort zone at first, when i posted the first chapter. my writing has improved so much because of that and i’m so fucking excited for what i’ll be able to accomplish in the future.

oh yeah! thanks to the whump community for inspiring me to post my stuff in the first place! tllr specifically is something very important and personal to me, but something that i’m able to share with other people so easily. tllr isn’t just mine anymore, it’s everyone’s who’s ever read it (don’t take that too literally)

anyway, i know i’m forgetting something but yeah i just wanted to say thanks!! you are all so amazing! i’m not gonna tag all of the friends i made but you all know who you are, thank you!!! 2023 was amazing for me and i’m so excited for what 2024 will bring (besides me literally graduating high school this year)! big things are coming up with tllr too, new characters, twists and turns, crazy stuff. i’m so fucking excited

OH YEAH! i usually don’t make new year’s resolutions but this year i definitely want to draw more of my friends/mutuals’ characters. all of you are so creative and drawing art for other people is something i realized i love to do!!

i don’t know how to end this, it got longer than i planned loll. thank you all for the amazing year!! thanks for all the support!! :DDD

[bluemoonbun]

what if there was a yandere batfam x villain!mom!reader. More specifically, I'm thinking of this (Fem reader);

Reader is a (technically) small threat. They're well known, but they mostly go after the rich and police. Unfortunately, that describes everyone in/closely involved with the Batfamily. Attempts at capture are futile, however, since they seem to rival Bruce in contingency plans.

Eventually, Jason steps up to bat and tries to catch them. However, there's one thing that Jason picked up from Bruce; his type is crime.

You and Jason have Batman-and-Catwoman-esque chases throughout Gotham, Jason blaming your escape on you being too crafty while denying any help. You see Jason's scars and admit that you have a pretty bad one on your side, eventually showing it to him when you feel comfortable taking your clothes off. Jason has had to hide more hickeys, bite marks, and scratches on his back than anyone would hazard to guess.

One day, however, you disappear. The Batfam is relieved that you've finally stopped your reign of terror over Gotham, but Jason is worried.

The Batfam all go out for ice cream a few months later for something unrelated, when Jason catches sight of something familiar.

A scar winding up someone's side. A scar he's seen before. A scar that's stretched due to a bump.

Dick walks into his back when Jason freezes. Judging by the size, you've been pregnant for about as long as you've been off of the streets. So that's where you've been...

Why didn't you tell him? Did you think he didn't love you enough? Did he not show you enough times that he loved you? Did you think that it wouldn't work because he was working with Batman? He wasn't that close with him! He'd help you find a nice apartment in Crime Alley, or, hell, you could move in with him! He wasn't sure how good of a dad he'd be, but he'd try! Isn't that what parenting is about?

Oh god, he hasn't been around for so much of your pregnancy already. He needs to talk to you!

"...Jason. Earth to Jason Todd? Hello?" Dick says, waving his hand through the thoughts swirling in front of his eyes. Jason starts slightly as he remembers where he was. Damian begins walking towards you. Or rather, the ice cream store you were in front of.

While you were out of earshot, he saw as you looked at Damian. You smiled, probably asking where his parents are, because he gestured behind him. He watched as your smile fell into shock as your eyes landed on him, hand instinctively going to your stomach before you glanced at a nearby alleyway before looking back at him.

He took the hint. Now you're facing each other, unasked and uncountable questions floating between the both of you. Jason, however, asked the worst question possible in that moment.

"Is it mine?"

The slap was warranted, honestly.

The next few questions come more easily. You're around 24 weeks along, you've been living alone for the most part, you've obviously taken time off to avoid any injuries/toxic exposure to the baby, etc. Eventually, he asks why you never told him, and the reason was twofold. On one hand, telling him would've required doing some sort of crime for the batfamily to follow and him being the one that caught you, which you had known was debateable since he mentioned how Bruce and the Robins offered to tag along. On the other, the chance of everything crashing and burning because of this was too great. You were too willing to accept that it was truly just like what Batman and Catwoman had, something fun and fleeting but nothing deeper than that. You weren't going to risk your child because you felt loved.

Jason takes your hands and tells you his full legal name. At first you're confused, but he tells you more. He tells you how long he's been a vigilante, where he lives, even the code to his apartment. He doesn't see any of this as fleeting. This, to him, was a relationship that just needed a full push to become a "proper" one.

He places his hands and yours on your stomach.

"My name is Jason Peter Todd, I'm the vigilante Red Hood, son of Bruce Wayne, and... I'm gonna be a dad if you'll let me."

You smile and hug him, unable to talk around the lump in your throat.

"Jason...? What the fuck are you doing?" says Dick.

He turns around and realizes that the entire batfamily had heard him.

"So, she's pregnant with your child?" Damian glances around, trying to get another look at your belly.

"Of everyone I thought would get a villain pregnant... you weren't high on that list." Barbara chimes in.

"I'm gonna be a grandfather?" Bruce asks

---

So yeah, gist of it is that Jason gets Reader pregnant, Reader gets some information that Batman uses to justify keeping you in the manor, along with the half truth of "keeping appearances", since the tabloids would eat you alive if they caught evidence of a member of the Wayne family being a deadbeat dad, and over time, the family becomes more and more suffocating until your baby is born, in which they somehow make themselves a nuisance in child rearing.

Asks are welcome!

[sh4nksslvt]

Imagine Gear5!Luffy And normal luffy fighting over reader.......

wait! this is so smart! i like ur idea! dahaha

Double Trouble

When a freak accident splits Luffy into two, chaotic Gear 5 Luffy and sweet Normal Luffy — both versions hilariously compete for your heart, dragging the entire crew into the madness until everything returns to normal… mostly.

LUFFY X GN!READER | ONE SHOT

tags: fluff, sfw, love triangle(both are luffy lol)

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe

word count: 1.1k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

It all started with a bang — literally.

One moment, you were helping Nami reorganize the treasure room. Next, the whole Thousand Sunny lurched with a loud BOOM, rattling the floorboards and sending gold coins scattering like fireworks.

"What now?" Nami groaned, hands on her hips.

You rushed topside with the others, weapons drawn or fists clenched — expecting an attack.

Instead, you got... two Luffys.

One perfectly normal, grinning Luffy. And one... not so normal.

The second Luffy floated lazily above the deck, hair glowing brilliant white, pupils swirling hypnotically, laughter bubbling from his lips like music.

"Y/N!!" both Luffys shouted at once when they saw you.

You took an instinctive step back.

"Nope," Zoro said immediately, reaching for his swords.

"Is it a mirror fruit?!" Usopp yelped.

"Did the Captain eat himself?!" Chopper wailed, clinging to Sanji's leg.

Robin tilted her head, studying the scene with polite interest. "Fascinating..."

Franky just laughed, "SUUUUPER confusing!"

"Focus!!" Jinbei barked, trying to corral the chaos.

But it was already too late. Both Luffys made a beeline for you, tripping over each other and crashing into your legs like toddlers desperate for attention.

Nami pressed two fingers to her temple. "I need a raise," she muttered.

You quickly learned that having two Luffys was both better and worse than you could imagine.

Better, because they were extra affectionate — offering you food, carrying your things, cheering whenever you smiled.

Worse, because they were in full competition mode.

Gear5!Luffy (as Chopper breathlessly called him) kept showing off — stretching his limbs into ridiculous cartoonish shapes, bouncing around like a rubber band on crack, pulling faces until you doubled over laughing.

"Look, Y/N!" he crowed one afternoon, turning his whole head into a massive heart, complete with a squeaky heartbeat sound.

Normal Luffy was no slouch either. He stuck to his strengths — stubbornness and sincerity.

"I don't need crazy powers," he told you solemnly, handing you a slightly squashed rice ball he'd made himself. "I'm already the best for Y/N!"

You bit into the rice ball, smiling despite yourself.

Meanwhile, the crew took sides — shamelessly.

"I bet the crazy one wins!" Franky announced loudly.

"No way," Sanji scoffed. "Y/N deserves normalcy."

"Technically," Robin mused, "both versions are Luffy."

"Yeah, but one’s glowing," Usopp said. "Glowing automatically makes you cooler."

Zoro snorted. "Idiots."

Brook just laughed. "Yohoho! Twice the Captain, twice the chaos!"

You wanted to protest — this isn’t a contest! — but then you’d look up and catch two sets of hopeful, sparkling eyes gazing at you, and the words would die on your tongue.

At first, it was cute.

They followed you everywhere — two shadows glued to your heels. They fought over who got to sit next to you at dinner, who got to carry your stuff during island stops, who could make you laugh harder.

Gear5!Luffy once turned the entire galley into a giant bouncy castle trying to impress you. Sanji screamed for three hours cleaning it up.

Normal Luffy responded by dragging you up the mast one night, pointing proudly at the sea of stars and whispering, "I wanted you to see somethin' only I can reach."

You sat there, high above the world, heart hammering against your ribs, wondering how you were supposed to choose between them.

But the tipping point came one evening.

The crew was gathered on deck — a rare, peaceful moment under a pink-streaked sky. Dinner plates were scattered everywhere, Brook strumming a soft tune on his violin.

You leaned against the railing, smiling at the sight.

Then — disaster.

Gear5!Luffy and Normal Luffy both lunged at you at once, trying to hand you a flower they'd picked from a nearby island.

Their arms tangled. They tripped. And with a yelp, they toppled overboard — dragging you with them.

The splash was enormous.

You resurfaced, spluttering and coughing, the two Luffys flailing beside you.

"Y/N!! Are you okay?!" they shrieked in perfect unison.

From the deck, Sanji was screaming bloody murder.

"YOU IDIOTS!! YOU COULD'VE DROWNED THEM!!"

Chopper was already tossing a lifesaver. Usopp was sobbing dramatically. Zoro just sighed, clearly contemplating letting you all drown to solve the problem.

Somehow, you all clambered back aboard, dripping wet and exhausted.

You sat there, shivering slightly, as the two Luffys crowded you again, guilt written all over their faces.

"I’m sorry," Normal Luffy whispered.

"Me too," Gear5!Luffy mumbled, his glow dimming.

You sighed heavily, wringing out your clothes. "You guys can’t keep fighting over me. You’re the same person, you know?"

They blinked at you.

"You both care about me. I care about you too. But... not if you hurt each other."

The deck fell silent.

Then, very slowly, the two Luffys turned — and smacked their foreheads together in a show of stubborn apology.

Thump.

You couldn't help it — you burst out laughing.

The tension shattered instantly. The crew joined in, cheering and clapping, Brook playing a jaunty tune.

"Looks like the Captain(s) learned their lesson," Robin said, smiling.

"Finally," Jinbei rumbled, folding his arms.

"Can we have just one Luffy now?" Nami pleaded.

You grinned, ruffling both Luffys' wet hair. "I'll take both for now."

They beamed at you — two idiots, one heart.

That night, you fell asleep curled between them on the deck, watching the stars wheel overhead.

For the first time in days, everything felt peaceful again.

You woke to soft snoring against your shoulder.

Blinking sleepily, you sat up — and found just one Luffy curled against you, straw hat sliding down to cover his eyes.

His hair was black again.

No swirling pupils. No crazy glow.

Just your Luffy.

You stared at him for a long moment, heart pounding in your chest.

The rest of the crew was stirring around the deck, yawning and stretching.

"Looks like whatever split him wore off overnight," Chopper said, checking Luffy’s vitals. "His heartbeat’s normal again."

"Amen," Sanji muttered, dragging a broom across the ruined galley.

Zoro shot you a sidelong look. "Guess you don’t have to choose anymore, huh?"

You smiled softly, brushing Luffy’s hair back from his forehead.

"No," you murmured, "I already chose."

Because whether he was wild or serious, glowing or not — he was still Luffy.

Yours.

Always.

And even if he didn’t remember everything that happened while split... The way he instinctively curled closer to you in his sleep said enough.

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"Idiot," you whispered fondly. "I love you too."

The sun rose over the horizon, golden and bright, as the Thousand Sunny sailed on, carrying you, your crew, and the boy who had somehow, impossibly, stolen your heart twice over.

[suigenerisisadiva]

Worlds Collide, and So Do We - Mark Grayson x Batsis!Reader

Pairing: Mark Grayson x Batsis!Reader + Batfam x Batsis!Reader

Summary: Turns out Bats have an affinity for aliens, reader and Mark meet again, she didn’t expect to see him again, he absolutely hoped he would. When Mark Grayson shows up on a Gotham rooftop, drenched, smiling, and dangerously charming, she tries to play it cool. He flirts. She deflects. He keeps flirting. She gives in.

Names are still a mystery. Feelings are not.

CW: Making out lmfao, Mark is down bad, swearing, violence, sus behaviour.

A/N: This was fun! Mark is my bae <333

This is a part 2 of my Between Worlds, Between Us fic! Read it here!

Ppl that asked to be tagged: @silas-222 - @guacimara - @lagataprrr - @sleepygirl-inc - @trasshy-artist my pookies - @gothicbatgirl + @dulcet-aurora + @ilona2nerrie

It started the same way as last time.

Late. Raining. Gotham’s skyline stretched in all directions, gold veins splitting black towers.

You landed on the rooftop like you always did, silent, sharp, controlled.

Except this time You weren’t alone.

Mark, or Invincible as you know him, was already there, standing with his back to you, arms crossed and hair damp from the storm. He turned when your boots hit the ledge.

“Hi,” he said, smiling a little too fast, voice slightly breathy.

“Miss me?” He asked, with such a dopey tone that it made you suppress a giggle.

You raised an eyebrow. “You followed me here.” You stated matter-of-factly.

“Technically,” he said, floating down from the raised ledge, “I followed a villain here and then kinda… stuck around when they bailed.”

“Oh, so you’re stalking me professionally now.” You spoke, sass in your voice.

He laughed. “No. That would be creepy. This is cosmic fate.”

You fought the grin. Failed. “Big words for a guy who faceplanted mid-chase last week.”

“I was distracted.” He shot. “By what?” You prodded. “You.” He said it so quickly it didn’t register until the silence hit.

Mark blinked. “Wait-wa-was that too much?”

You walked past him slowly, the rain hitting your cowl in light taps. You peeled your gloves off one finger at a time, not looking at him.

“That depends,” you said. “Are you planning on saying anything less cheesy tonight?”

“Nope,” he said brightly. “Got a whole script lined up.”

You finally turned to face him. “You don’t even know my name.”

He shrugged, stepping closer, a little bolder than last time. “I know you’re fast. And smart. And terrifying in a very cool way. And your smile might be illegal in like six systems.”

You snorted. “That line works better when you’re not saying it in front of a water tank and a leaking satellite dish.”

“It’s working now,” he said, eyes locked on yours. “I think.”

You held his gaze. Just long enough to make him nervous.

Then you smirked. “Maybe.”

Another beat. Another pause between lightning strikes.

Then-

“You gonna kiss me or keep orbiting?”

Mark didn’t hesitate this time. And neither did you.

And when your lips met - wet, breathless, rain catching in his lashes, it felt less like a collision and more like gravity giving in. You'd waited too long for this.

You lips moved together with an ease that made you feel like you' both done this countless times. Your arms ran up his toned arms (I'm sorry guys beefy arms are so attractive to me), one hand laid on his chiseled chest and the other around his neck. His hands found solace on your hips, like they were supposed to be there.

Your forehead brushed against his when you finally pulled back, breath caught somewhere between a laugh and a confession.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Mark said softly, like anything louder might break the moment. You tilted your head. “What, the kiss?” “No,” he murmured. “You.”

You didn’t reply. You didn’t have to.

Because right then, your comm crackled, static, faint, but enough to make your instincts jolt.

Mark noticed the way your body shifted. How your expression flickered just slightly from warm to calculated.

“What is it?” he asked.

You scanned the skyline, brows drawing together. “Thermal pings. Two rooftops over. Someone’s watching.”

Mark immediately stepped beside you, hand hovering near yours, not quite holding it, but close enough to feel the warmth.

“You think it’s your people?”

You shook your head. “They’d have made a dramatic entrance by now. This feels... quiet. Too quiet. Oh by the way, my people are getting suspicious, they know I have someone”

Mark looked over his shoulder. “Want me to fly us out of here?”

You hesitated.

There was something deliciously stupid about the idea. You, wrapped in his gorgeous arms (I'M SO SORRY), disappearing into the Gotham clouds with your cowl still on and adrenaline in your lungs.

“…Yeah,” you said, almost daring yourself. “Let’s make it flashy.”

He didn’t hesitate.

Mark’s arms wrapped around your waist, and in a burst of wind and gravity-defiance, the two of you launched off the rooftop, laughing, weightless, vanishing into the storm like a secret the city couldn’t catch.

And in the distance, unseen, unwelcomed, a lens zoomed in. Someone was watching. And they’d seen everything.

Hope you all enjoyed this! Likes, comments, reblogs and requests are highly appreciated! Requests are open!

Sources! -

Dividers - @omi-resources

Icon Header - @parkons

Property of suigenerisisadiva, do not repost my work pls & ty!

[lily-bisque]

𝒹oin' 𝓉ime 𓍯𓂃 𝓈ummer 𝒷ash 𝒸ollab 🐚

your dream destination on the coast of the amalfi waters in italy awaits 𓂃 ོ☼𓂃

teaser ˚⋆𓇼˚⊹

pairing: assistantfem!reader x childhoodfriend/prostitute!toji

synopsis: sparkling turquoise waters, hidden coves, and limoncello for days in the illustrious city on the amalfi coast was just how you wanted to start your work-trip—now instead struggling to find a room for the night thanks to your arrogant boss leaving you to fend for yourself. yet your hopes begin to float just above the surface when your fate crashes with your old childhood neighbor with a questionable past but an annoyingly dashing charm beneath the sun-kissed shore glow. it really is a small world after all.

contents: tba, nothing in this teaser!

a/n: this oneshot is part of my summer bash collab that i have been lucky enough to get sixteen other writers on board with! was far too excited writing this, so here's a little snippet. comment to be tagged on the oneshot once it's posted <3

🏷️ ; @nialovessatoru @ri-sa20 @angel-vee-writes @howmanytimesamigoingtotrythis @sypnasis @fanficreaders-stuff @inzayneforaj @heh123321 @zzz-auds @mjsjshhd

“You know, the whole ‘macho mystery man’ look is getting old,” you deadpanned with finger quotes, despite him not being able to see it. “I’ve literally seen you trip over your own feet and fling your arms at nothing.”

“Well, thankfully I’ll only have to indulge in your presence for the evening since I’m kicking you out at dawn,” he retorted, kicking the door open after shoving his key into the keyhole.

“Yeah yeah I’ll get out of your hair—.” You cut yourself off when you got a view of the room. Don’t get it wrong here, the room was fucking gorgeous.

The issue? There was a singular bed—no connecting door to another room or anything.

What the hell were you expecting?

You huffed a laugh, swiveling your head to your childhood friend. “So I’m guessing this is where I’m staying and you’ve got another room?”

He looked at you over his shoulder as he tossed your bag onto the mussed mattress, where you can only assume he slept in the night before. “Fuck are you talking about? There’s a pullout couch.”

You laughed incredulously at him, not even caring that you could get a noise complaint at this hour. “...Seriously?”

He turned around, crossing his arms over his chest and cocking his head. “Yeah. Wouldn’t even be our first time sharing a room, anyway.”

You twitched at that, your heart stalling in your chest for a moment as words died on your tongue. Give it to Toji for making things weird.

“Uhm. Just… give me a second.”

You hurried out of the room, shuffling down the winding steps and stopping right before the jaded receptionist at the front, heart roaring in your ears. “Are you guys fully booked for the night?”

She had her legs and arms crossed, peering up at you whilst smacking her gum, an annoyed and tired expression coloring her. She leaned over the computer and clicked a few things out of your view. “We’ve got one room left.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, feeling your shoulders slump. “Perfect. I’ll take it.”

She gave you a feigned smile. “It’s our presidential suite, however. It requires proof of high status such as dignitaries or heads of states. Otherwise, we keep it open.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at that. “What? Who the hell cares who I am if I’m a paying customer?”

She shrugged, panning her screen towards you. “Well, can you afford it?”

Your gaze followed the screen, squinting against the harsh light, when you made out the multiple zero’s coming after the euro symbol, your maw falling slack.

The walk back to Toji’s suite was a dreadful one, being told that every other hotel in a thirty mile radius was also booked out, dragging your feet and pushing the door open with your head downcast.

The television was now droning on with some static-y hotel-like cable sitcom that aired after hours, enough to make you shiver.

Your bags were in the same place Toji had left them, but the man was nowhere to be seen. Your eyebrows drew in as your head turned on a swivel, peeking into the bathroom and the closet warily, as if he were waiting to jump out and catch you off guard like a deer in headlights, but no.

“Oi. Get in here,” you heard his voice bellow past the ajar balcony door.

Your head cocked curiously, following the sound out onto the balcony, the white drapes flitting in the warm night breeze. Peering over the edge, you could see Toji just one floor down, veiny forearms and broad shoulders draped over the edge of some hot tub, the roman-style pool beside it empty.

It was a beautiful set-up, the area littered with potted plants and shrubbery from poppies to sunflowers to roses, giving it a bright glow even in the night.

Toji was sporting black swim trousers, shirtless as the water pooled around his massive pecs. Your thighs subconsciously rubbed against each other at the drooling sight, before you tore your gaze to match his, just the slightest bit curious how on Earth he made it down there without you noticing.

You could imagine him scaling the balcony wall, hopping down barefoot all primal-like.

Hugging yourself, you leaned down to yell-whisper, “Uh, no thanks. I think I’ll just get some sleep.”

He ran his tongue over his lower lip, eyes dancing across you. “Couldn’t get a room, huh?”

You shook your head in defeat.

“Alright, well don’t let your first night in La Dolce Vita go to waste just because you’re a little scared of talking to me,” he teased with an accusatory tone, adjusting his manspread. 

You rolled your eyes at his gall, ready to bite back. “I’m not scared of you, Zenin.”

“Prove it, bird.” He called out immediately, voice husky and resonating through the charged air.

You clicked your tongue, narrowing your eyes, the slightest bit pissed that Toji was unbelievably talented at riling you up. He knew you far too well, even after all this time.

“Give me five minutes.”

You turned on your heel, heading back into the room and parsing through your bag for your swim trunks.

You’d brought two.

One that you could wear around your boss and her boyfriend without feeling unprofessional—a basic white one piece with a few frills, modest enough. The second, however, was a black strappy two-piece that quite literally left nothing to imagination.

You’d packed the latter in case you’d had a night to yourself and would be able to possibly hook up with someone fun you’d come across, a bit of a reach of your expectations for the weekend but you always came prepared nonetheless.

That’s not what you were planning here though, with Toji—no way in hell, that was nowhere near the front of your mind… ahem.

You simply wanted to get back at the audacious man. Let him know if he could make you uncomfortable, you had no issue doing the same to him.

You grabbed a lotus claw clip and tied your hair up, slipping into the suit and adjusting it so that your cleavage was on full view before slipping your sandals on and padding quickly down.

[flux1563]

Between two worlds ft. Gaeul

Words : 9k

Tags : multiple orgasm, squirting, public sex, creampie

In the bustling heart of Seoul, where neon lights painted the night in vivid hues, there was a young woman named Gaeul. Known to millions as the ethereal center of a chart-topping K-pop group, she had the kind of white skin and skinny frame that seemed to float on the pages of glossy magazines. Her eyes, a deep brown, held a spark that could electrify an entire stadium. With a height of 164 cm, she cut a delicate figure, her every move a study in precision and poise.

Gaeul stepped out of the luxurious van that had brought her to the club, the paparazzi's flashes leaving afterimages like a trail of shooting stars in her vision. The air had the promise of music and mischief, a stark contrast to the meticulously crafted image she presented to the world. The club's bassline thrummed through her, setting her nerves alight with an energy she hadn't felt in months. A rare night out, away from the suffocating embrace of her manager's schedule, she craved the anonymity of the pulsating crowd.

Inside, the club was a cavern of shadows and strobing lights, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the sweat of freedom. Gaeul felt a rush of exhilaration as she slipped into the throng, her heart racing in time with the music. The press of bodies, the smiles and whispers of recognition that danced around her, it was all a thrilling masquerade.

Her eyes fell upon you, Y/N, a stranger amidst the sea of faces. You were tall, with broad shoulders that tapered down to a waist that made her heart flutter. There was something about your confident stride, the way you moved with the music, that spoke of a soul unshackled by the constraints of the world outside these walls. You noticed her watching, and for a moment, your gazes locked, the music fading to a distant hum as the world narrowed to just the two of you.

Gaeul felt an unexplainable pull, a gravitational force drawing her to you. She approached, her heart a wild drumline in her chest. You didn't flinch at her celebrity, instead, you offered a genuine smile that made her feel like she was more than just the sum of her parts. Together, you began to dance, your movements complementing each other's as if you'd been partners for a lifetime. The air around you crackled with an undeniable chemistry.

The dance floor became a stage, the spotlight of the DJ's attention shifting to the magnetic pair. Your hands found hers, and the electricity grew stronger, a dance of fingers and palms that spoke a language more intimate than words. As the music reached a crescendo, the tension between you was palpable, a silent symphony of attraction that could no longer be contained.

Her heart racing, Gaeul leaned in, and you met her halfway. Your lips met in a kiss that was fiery yet tender, a secret shared in the chaos of the dance floor. It was a moment out of time, a silent promise that the night had only just begun. When you finally pulled away, breathless and grinning, she whispered in your ear, "Would you come to my apartment?" The question hung in the air, laden with anticipation and desire. Without a moment's hesitation, you nodded, your eyes reflecting the excitement that danced in hers.

You followed her out of the club, the cool night air a stark contrast to the warm embrace of the club's interior. Gaeul led the way to a sleek, black sedan parked at the curb, the engine purring quietly. The driver opened the door for her, and she slid in, beckoning for you to join her. The car's interior was a cocoon of luxury, the leather seats enveloping you both as you sped through the neon-lit streets of Seoul. The city passed by in a blur, a vibrant tapestry of life outside the window that seemed so far removed from the intimate bubble you now shared.

The sedan pulled up to a towering building, its glass façade gleaming under the moonlight. Gaeul's apartment was high above the city, a penthouse that offered a breathtaking panorama of the urban sprawl. The elevator ride was a silent countdown to an unknown future, the air thick with the promise of what lay beyond the doors. As the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, Gaeul took your hand, her touch sending a shiver down your spine.

Her apartment was a sanctuary, a stark contrast to the chaos of her public life. The walls were adorned with art that spoke of quiet contemplation, and the floor was a cool marble that seemed to whisper secrets underfoot. The living room was bathed in soft, muted lighting, casting an intimate glow over the plush sofas and the grand piano that sat in the corner, a silent sentinel of her other passion. Gaeul slipped off her heels, the sound echoing through the space, and you followed suit, feeling the comfort of the plush carpet beneath your feet.

Without a word, you took her hand, leading her to the couch. The tension between you had grown into something palpable, a living entity that demanded release. You leaned in, your eyes never leaving hers, and kissed her again, deeper this time, your tongues exploring the uncharted territory of each other's mouths. Her hands found their way to your shoulders, then slid down to the hem of your shirt, her fingertips tracing the lines of your abdomen as she pushed the fabric upward.

Gaeul's skin was warm and soft, and as you touched her, she shivered with pleasure. Your kisses grew more urgent, your hands working in tandem to strip away the layers that separated you. Her dress fell to the floor, revealing the lacy lingerie beneath, a stark contrast to the armor she wore on stage. She broke the kiss only to whisper a breathy "yes," her eyes never leaving yours, a silent invitation to continue.

With trembling fingers, you unclipped her bra, letting it fall to the floor with a whisper of fabric. Her breasts were small but perfect, the nipples peaked with desire. You took one in your mouth, teasing it with your tongue as she gasped and arched her back. Her hands found the button of your pants, and with a flick of her wrist, the zipper was undone. You stepped out of them, leaving only your boxers as a barrier to the warmth of her touch.

The air was heavy with the scent of desire, a heady mix of perfume and pheromones that seemed to amplify every sensation. Your heart was racing, the blood pounding in your ears as you slid her panties down her legs, revealing the apex of her thighs. She was bare and beautiful, and you couldn't help but marvel at the sight before you. Gaeul reached for you, her hand wrapping around your hardness, her touch sending shockwaves through your body.

Her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink as she caught you staring. "Don't look at me like that," she murmured, but the way she said it was more of a challenge than a reprimand. Her eyes held a playful glint, and you could see the excitement dancing in their depths. You met her gaze, unable to resist the allure of her unblemished skin and the way her body responded to your touch. She was a vision, and you were the lucky one who got to behold her.

With a smirk, you leaned in and whispered, "I think your fans will envy me," your voice low and teasing. The laugh that bubbled from her was genuine, a sound that didn't often reach the ears of the outside world. It was a rare glimpse into the person she was when the lights and cameras weren't watching. She playfully swatted at your chest, but her hand lingered, her thumb tracing circles over your heart.

You took the cue and gently pulled her closer, your hand sliding around to unbutton your shirt. As the fabric parted, revealing your bare chest and abs, Gaeul's eyes widened in surprise. But it was the sight of your boxers, straining against your arousal, that truly left her speechless. With a sense of the dramatic flair that was part of your own nature, you slid the boxers down, freeing your erection. It stood proudly, the size of it making even Gaeul gasp. Her eyes were glued to the thick length of you, her pupils dilating as she took in the full view.

Her hand reached out tentatively, her fingertips brushing against your skin. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves through your body. She wrapped her hand around you, her grip firm yet gentle, and began to stroke. It was a heady experience, having this goddess of K-pop, adored by millions, worship your body in the quiet sanctity of her penthouse.

With a hunger that could no longer be contained, you guided her to the plush carpet. The coolness of the floor sent a thrill up her spine as you laid her down, her legs spreading to accommodate your weight. Your kisses grew more fervent as they trailed down her neck, her collarbone, her breasts, until finally, your mouth found her center. Gaeul's hips bucked in response, her body arching like a bow drawn taut.

Her grip on your hair tightened as she whispered, "Yeah, keep going, I'm gonna cum." Her voice was a sweet symphony of pleasure, the words echoing in your mind like a siren's call. You lapped at her eagerly, your tongue exploring her folds with a mastery that surprised even you. Her breaths grew ragged, her body trembling beneath you as the tension built to a crescendo.

And then she screamed. A primal, uninhibited "Ahhhh" that filled the room, her legs shaking so hard it was as if she was in the throes of a seizure. Her back arched off the floor, her body a sculpture of ecstasy as she reached her peak. The sound was a declaration of your power over her, a testament to the intimate connection you two shared in this stolen moment.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she met your gaze, a soft smile playing on her lips. "That was..." she began, but the words trailed off as she struggled to find the right ones. You kissed her thigh, the taste of her still lingering on your tongue, feeling a sense of pride and satisfaction. You had given her something she hadn't experienced before, something real and raw and utterly human.

After catching her breath, Gaeul pushed herself up onto her knees, her eyes never leaving yours. Your cock stood tall and proud before her, a symbol of your desire for her. She reached out tentatively, her hand cupping you with a reverence that made you ache.

"Is this your first time with a cock this big?" you asked, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

Gaeul nodded, her cheeks still flushed from her orgasm. "Yes," she murmured, her eyes wide and earnest. "In all the glamour of this industry, the men are often... less than adequate." Her confession was a stark reminder of the hidden truths behind the glitzy façade of stardom.

With a gentle smirk, you leaned back, giving her more room to explore. "Don't worry," you assured her, your voice low and soothing. "I'll go slow." Her hand hovered over your erection, her thumb tracing the vein that pulsed along the shaft. Her curiosity was palpable, and you felt a thrill at the thought of being her guide in this new realm of pleasure.

You took her hand and brought it closer, wrapping her delicate fingers around your girth. "Start with your hand," you instructed, showing her how to pump gently. Gaeul's eyes were wide with fascination as she followed your lead, her grip tightening and loosening in time with your demonstration. The sight of her small hand trying to encircle your cock was more arousing than you could've ever imagined.

"Now, use your mouth," you said, your voice a gentle command. Gaeul leaned in, her eyes never leaving yours. She kissed the tip, her soft lips a tantalizing promise of what was to come. You felt your cock twitch in anticipation as she took you into her mouth, her teeth grazing your sensitive skin. You guided her, showing her how to take more of you in without gagging, her eyes watering slightly as she adjusted to your size.

You praised her with murmurs of approval, encouraging her as she found her rhythm. Her cheeks hollowed with effort, and she took you deeper, her tongue swirling around the head in a dance that had you gritting your teeth to hold back. She was a fast learner, eager and attentive. Each stroke of her mouth sent bolts of pleasure shooting through your body, making your toes curl and your abs tighten.

Gaeul's eyes remained locked on yours as she bobbed up and down, her hand still working in tandem with her lips. You could see the concentration in her eyes, the determination to please you. It was a heady feeling, one that only served to amplify your desire. You reached down to caress her cheek, the silkiness of her skin a stark contrast to the rough stubble on your own.

Her eyes grew more focused, more intense, as she took you deeper still. The saliva from her mouth coated your length, making it slick and easier to glide in and out of her. You felt your control slipping, your hips beginning to thrust gently, urging her to take more of you in. Her moans of effort only served to turn you on further, the vibrations resonating through your cock and straight to your core.

"Glukk... glukk... glukk," she murmured, the wet sound of her mouth enveloping you. You watched in amazement as she took you in, her cheeks hollowed out, her throat working around you. Gaeul had never felt so alive, so in the moment. The power dynamics of their world had flipped, and she was in control, the one bringing pleasure to the person she had once thought untouchable.

"Ahh, so tight and warm, Gaeul," you moaned, the words sending a bolt of pleasure straight to her core. She redoubled her efforts, eager to hear more of those delicious sounds. You could feel your orgasm building, the tension in your body tightening like a coil ready to spring. Your hand found its way to the back of her head, guiding her, setting a rhythm that had your toes curling in the plush carpet.

Her eyes watered and she gagged a little, but she didn't stop. Instead, she took it as a challenge, pushing herself to take more of you in. The sounds of her efforts grew more urgent, a symphony of "glukk" and "gluk" as she worked her mouth along your length. You watched in amazement, feeling your climax near, the base of your cock swelling with each passing second.

And then it hit. "Ahh, I'm cumming," you warned, your voice strained with pleasure. But instead of slowing down, you thrust into her mouth harder, faster, your hand tightening in her hair. Gaeul took it all, her eyes never leaving yours, her own arousal spiking at the sight of your pleasure. Your cock pulsed, and she felt the hot, thick jets of cum hit the back of her throat. She swallowed instinctively, her eyes widening in surprise at the taste and the sensation of having you come in her mouth.

As the last tremors of your orgasm subsided, you pulled away, leaving Gaeul panting and gasping for air. Her lips were swollen and wet, a testament to her dedication. You watched as she licked her lips, savoring the taste of you. "Wow," she murmured, a hint of awe in her voice. "That was..."

You chuckled, running a thumb over her plump lower lip, catching a rogue droplet of cum. "A little too much?"

Gaeul's eyes twinkled with mischief. "No," she said, swiping her tongue across her lips. "It's perfect." She sat up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

The power had shifted again, and now it was your turn to be the eager pupil. "Get on all fours," you told her, your voice firm but not unkind. Gaeul's heart raced at the command, and she felt a thrill of excitement at the thought of being taken so primally. She obeyed, her skinny body moving with the grace of a gazelle as she got onto her hands and knees on the plush carpet.

Her ass was high in the air, the perfect handfuls of flesh that you hadn't been able to stop thinking about since the moment you saw her in the club. You knelt behind her, taking a moment to appreciate the view. Gaeul glanced back over her shoulder, a seductive smile playing on her lips. "Is this what you want?" she purred, the challenge in her tone unmistakable.

You didn't answer with words, instead, you lined yourself up with her slick, waiting entrance. With one firm thrust, you pushed into her, the sound of your hips slapping against her skin echoing through the penthouse. Gaeul's gasp was music to your ears, her "Ahhhh" a symphony of pleasure and surprise as you filled her completely. Her walls tightened around you, a velvet vise that had you groaning with the intensity of sensation.

"Already cumming? Such a needy slut," you murmured, your voice a mix of amusement and satisfaction. Gaeul's eyes flashed with a hint of defiance, but she didn't deny it. Instead, she pushed back into you, urging you to go deeper. Your rhythm grew faster, the sound of skin on skin punctuating the quiet of the night. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure through her body, making her feel alive in a way she hadn't in years.

"Yeah, fuck me like a dirty slut," she repeated, her voice a throaty growl that sent a shiver down your spine. The words were like a drug, spurring you on to claim her even more fiercely. You reached around to find her clit, rubbing it in circles as you pounded into her. Gaeul's moans grew louder, a symphony of pleasure that filled the room. Her body trembled with each thrust, her muscles tightening around you as she approached another orgasm.

Her nails dug into the carpet, the pain a sharp counterpoint to the exquisite feeling of you inside her. "Harder," she begged, her voice a desperate whine. You didn't hold back, slamming into her with all the force you had. The sound of your hips smacking against her ass filled the air, a rhythm that matched the pounding in your chest. You could feel her pussy getting tighter, her body preparing for another powerful release.

"Oh, fuck, yes," Gaeul moaned, her voice hoarse with passion. "Make it hurt so good."

Her words were like gasoline on a fire, and you picked up the pace, each thrust more powerful than the last. Your hands gripped her hips tightly, leaving bruises that would serve as reminders of this illicit night. Gaeul's body moved in sync with yours, her hips pushing back to meet your every advance. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the air, a cacophony of desire that drowned out the distant sounds of the city.

With a wicked grin, you raised your hand and brought it down sharply on her ass. The slap echoed through the room, and she yelped, "Ahh, it hurts!" But the way she pushed back into you, the way her pussy clenched around your cock, told you she didn't mean it. You smacked her again, the sound louder this time, leaving a red handprint on her pale skin. Her moan was a mix of pain and pleasure, a siren's song that only made you want to give her more.

Her breath grew ragged, and she began to chant, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm gonna cum again." Her words were a sweet incantation, a spell that had you utterly captivated. Without a second thought, you reached for your phone, the glow of the screen briefly illuminating your face. You started to record, capturing every second of her impending release.

But then, she looked back at you, her eyes wide with a sudden panic. "Don't record it," Gaeul said.

You paused, your hand hovering over your phone, a smirk playing on your lips. "Don't lie, Gaeul. Your pussy gets tighter when I record it," you said, your voice a low purr of challenge. She bit her lip, the internal struggle clear on her face. The thrill of the forbidden, the knowledge that this moment could be captured and watched again, was too tempting.

Her eyes searched yours, and you knew she was weighing the risks. The walls of her penthouse were thick, the chances of anyone hearing them minimal. But the thought of being caught, the possibility of the video leaking, was a thrill she hadn't experienced in a long time. Gaeul's breath hitched as she nodded, a silent permission for you to continue. You tapped the record button again, the red light a beacon of their shared desire.

With renewed vigor, you slammed into her, each stroke a declaration of your dominance. Your hand fell in a steady rhythm, the slap of your palm against her skin echoing through the room. Her cries grew louder, a symphony of pleasure that matched the beat of your hips. Each smack was met with a whine and a thrust, her body begging for more as you painted a picture of passion on the canvas of her skin. The red handprint grew darker with each hit, a brand of your claim on her perfect ass.

"Fuck, Gaeul, I'm gonna cum," you growled, the words a declaration of war on your last shred of control. She looked back at you, her eyes glazed with desire, her cheeks flushed from the exertion and the sting of your hand.

"Just cum inside me," she breathed, her voice a desperate plea that sent a shiver down your spine. "Fill me up." It was a demand that was as much a declaration of trust as it was a bid for dominance.

With a roar of pleasure, you did as she asked, releasing a torrent of cum deep within her, marking her as yours. Gaeul's body convulsed around you, her own orgasm crashing over her like a wave. She collapsed onto the floor, her legs trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

You pulled out of her, the sight of her gaping pussy, slick with your seed, making you groan. You couldn't help but capture it, the phone's camera zooming in on the intimate view. Her body was a canvas of pleasure, sweat glistening on her skin, the red handprint on her ass a stark contrast to her porcelain complexion. You moved to film her face, the camera capturing her flushed cheeks, her eyes glazed with satisfaction, her swollen lips parted in a soft moan.

Gaeul looked up at you, her eyes hooded with passion. "Show me," she panted, her voice barely above a whisper. You handed her the phone, and she took it with shaking hands, her eyes devouring the footage. The sight of herself being fucked so thoroughly, her body's reactions laid bare, was intoxicating. She watched as you recorded her, the video a testament to the raw, primal connection you shared.

The video played on a loop, the sounds of your lovemaking a siren's call that drew you both back in. Each groan and sigh, each smack of your hand against her flesh, was a reminder of the power and vulnerability you had shared. The red handprint on her ass was a trophy, a symbol of your passion, and she traced it with a fingertip, the slight sting sending a fresh jolt of arousal through her.

The room was filled with the scent of sex and sweat, a heady aroma that seemed to cling to the air. You sat beside her, your legs tangled together, watching the footage unfold. Gaeul's hand drifted between her legs, her fingers finding her sensitive clit. The sight of her touching herself, her body still trembling from your touch, was too much to bear. Your cock grew hard again, eager to claim her once more.

Without a word, you leaned over and took the phone from her, setting it aside. "Let me show you how much of a slut you are," you murmured, your voice thick with desire. You pushed her onto her back and spread her legs wide, the camera capturing the moment with a cold, unflinching eye. Her pussy was open and inviting, your cum leaking out of her and down her thighs. You dipped a finger in, watching as her eyes rolled back in her head.

You brought your hand to her mouth, the scent of sex strong on your skin. "Taste yourself," you ordered, and she obeyed, sucking your finger with a hunger that surprised even you. Gaeul's tongue swirled around your digit, tasting her own juices mixed with yours. The sight was too much, and you found yourself growing harder still, your need for her insatiable.

You leaned down, your cock nudging against her entrance. She was so wet, so open, that it took no effort to slide back in. Her legs wrapped around you, her heels digging into your back as you began to move again, the rhythm slower, more deliberate. The camera rolled, capturing every intimate moment, every gasp and moan, every bead of sweat that rolled down her body.

The world outside the penthouse walls had ceased to exist. In this moment, there was only you and Gaeul, your bodies joined in a dance of passion and power. And as you watched the footage, you knew that this was only the beginning. The night was still young, and there was so much more to explore, so much more to conquer. The story of your forbidden union was being written in sweat and sighs, in the stark red of her ass and the glint of the camera lens.

You moved from position to position, each one more intimate, more erotic than the last. Gaeul's lithe body was a canvas for your desires, her moans the brushstrokes that painted the picture of your pleasure. You recorded every moment, every twitch and spasm, every gasp and cry. Her legs wrapped around you in a vice-like grip, her heels digging into your back as you claimed her in every way possible. You watched the reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows, the two of you a tableau of lust that could never be forgotten.

When you were both spent, you led her to the bathroom, the marble countertop cold against her skin as you sat her down. The room was bathed in a soft, candlelit glow, the steam from the running tub a gentle caress against your skin. You filled the tub with water scented with jasmine and lavender, the fragrance a gentle reprieve from the raw scent of sex that hung in the air.

With a lazy grin, you grabbed the phone from the floor, the wetness from the pool of your combined juices smearing across the screen. You sat cross-legged in the tub, the water lapping against your skin as you began to scroll through the footage. Gaeul leaned against you, her head on your shoulder, her eyes glued to the screen.

"See, baby?" you said, your voice smug as you played back the moments of her body shuddering under your touch. "You're a fucking goddess."

Her cheeks flushed with a mix of pride and embarrassment. "It's just... I've never felt this way before," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the sound of the running water. "It's so raw, so... real."

You chuckled and kissed her temple. "And that's what makes it hot," you said, your hand idly stroking her thigh. "You should think about it, though. An OnlyFans account. You'd make a fortune."

Her eyes snapped to yours, a spark of excitement in them. "Really?" she breathed. "You think so?"

You nodded, your cock stirring again at the thought of her sharing her beauty with the world. "Just blur your face," you said, your voice a low rumble. "Let them see the body that drives them wild every time you're on stage."

The idea grew in her mind like a seed planted in fertile ground. Anonymity had always been a struggle in her line of work, but this... this could be her escape. A way to claim power over her sexuality and share her passion without the constraints of her public image.

The water grew cold around you, but neither of you noticed as you continued to watch the steamy scenes play out. Gaeul's hand trailed down to her pussy, her fingers idly toying with her clit as the video played. You felt your own arousal stirring once again, your cock thickening against her back.

With a growl, you turned her to face you, the water sloshing around you both. "Again?" she whispered, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

"Always," you replied, your eyes dark with lust.

The night went on like a never-ending symphony of pleasure, each position a new note to be played. You recorded it all, the camera capturing every inch of her body as you explored each other with an intensity that left you both breathless. The walls of the penthouse echoed with your moans, the sound of slapping flesh a testament to your unbridled passion.

In the days that followed, Gaeul found herself in a whirlwind of excitement and anticipation. The idea of creating an OnlyFans account, a secret garden where she could share her sexuality without the prying eyes of her fans and management, was intoxicating. She chose the name 'like kim gaeul' as a clever nod to her stage persona, a way to keep her identity hidden while still giving a nod to her public image.

The first content she uploaded was a still from that fateful night, a shot of her bent over in doggystyle, your hand raised in mid-air, poised to deliver a firm spank. The caption read, "Imagine Kim Gaeul getting spanked in this position." The photo was tasteful yet tantalizing, a teaser that had subscribers clamoring for more. The power of anonymity was intoxicating, allowing her to express herself without the fear of judgment or repercussion.

The comments section exploded with excitement, the words "Wow, she's like Gaeul," "Gaeul is such a slut in this," and "I can't believe she's doing this" repeated over and over. Each message sent a thrill through her, the knowledge that she was giving them something they hadn't expected, something that made them question everything they knew about their favorite idol. It was a heady feeling, one that had her body buzzing with anticipation.

Her subscribers grew by the hundreds, and with each new member, Gaeul felt a little more powerful. The thrill of being someone else, of being the slut they all dreamed of, was like a drug. She found herself eagerly checking her inbox, eager to see the reactions to her latest posts. The thought of her fans getting off to her content was a constant source of arousal, her pussy always wet and ready.

One particularly daring fan wrote, "I bet if Gaeul saw this, she'd want to be my slut too." The message was a spark that set her imagination ablaze. What would happen if the real Gaeul found out about her secret life? Would she be repulsed or intrigued? The risk was exhilarating, a thrill she hadn't felt since her early days in the industry. She decided to lean into the fantasy, posting a video with the caption, "What if Gaeul was really this naughty?" Her heart raced as she hit send, the anticipation of their reactions a delicious torment.

The feedback was overwhelming, a deluge of comments praising her beauty, her brazenness, her willingness to be their fantasy. It was like a drug, each message feeding the fire in her belly, making her want more. The line between Gaeul the idol and Gaeul the slut grew thinner, until she could almost believe it herself. Her mind raced with ideas for new content, each more daring than the last. The persona she had created was a siren's call, drawing her further into a world where she was in complete control of her own desires and the desires of others.

In the dim light of her penthouse, surrounded by the trappings of her celebrity life, Gaeul felt a sense of freedom she hadn't experienced in years. The mask she had worn for so long had been shattered, revealing the woman beneath, and she liked what she saw. The feedback from her subscribers was a balm to her soul, a validation of her sexuality that she had been craving for so long.

And so, she continued to upload, each video and photo more explicit than the last. She lost herself in the role, becoming the slut they all wanted her to be, the goddess of their darkest dreams. The comments grew bolder, more demanding, and she reveled in it. The thought of her fans jerking off to her was a thrill that never waned, a reminder of the power she held in her slender fingers.

The more she posted, the more she realized that she was not just playing a role; she was rediscovering herself. The shy, insecure girl who had been molded into a star was giving way to a woman who knew what she wanted and was unafraid to take it. Her OnlyFans was a declaration of independence, a middle finger to the industry that had tried to control her every move.

But amidst the pleasure, there was always the fear. The fear of being found out, the fear of losing everything she had worked so hard for. Yet, she couldn't deny the thrill it brought her. Each time she posted, she felt like she was playing with fire, and she liked the burn.

As the weeks turned into months, Gaeul's account grew in popularity. Her subscribers were devoted, showering her with praise and money.

One evening, she found herself staring at a blank screen, her mind racing. The thrill of the new had worn off, and she was desperate for something that would set her apart from the sea of other creators. Inspiration struck her like a bolt of lightning. "Y/n," she whispered into the phone, her voice a seductive purr. "I need content for my OnlyFans. Let's do something wild... like public sex."

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. The excitement of the potential risk and the thrill of the forbidden had your blood racing. "Are you sure?" you asked, playing it cool despite the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"Yes," she said, the determination in her voice unmistakable. "We're going to do it. And it's going to be amazing."

The adrenaline was palpable as you picked her up in your sleek black sports car, the engine purring beneath you like a living beast. The city lights reflected off the windows, creating a dazzling array of color that bled into the dark leather of the seats.

As Gaeul stepped inside, you watched with anticipation as she slipped off her top and unclipped her bra, the fabric sliding off her shoulders like a lover's caress. She was a vision in the soft glow of the car's interior lights, her small breasts bouncing gently as she complied with your command. The oversized jacket was thrown over her shoulders, swamping her slender frame, a stark contrast to the tight dress she had worn to the club. She slid the vibrator into her wetness, the sound of it buzzing to life a symphony of excitement in the confined space.

"Now what is the plan?" Gaeul asked, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Let's go to the mall," you suggested, the excitement building in your voice. "We'll make a vlog in there."

Her eyes widened, a mix of surprise and arousal. "Really?" she whispered, her voice shaky with excitement. "That's so risky."

You chuckled, reaching over to stroke her thigh. "Isn't that part of the fun?" You pressed a button on the vibrator's controller, and she gasped as it buzzed to life against her clit. She nodded, her breath hitching as you began to drive, navigating the streets of Seoul with one hand while the other played with the intensity of the vibrations.

The drive to the mall was a delicious mix of anticipation and pleasure. With every stop light, you increased the power, watching her squirm in her seat. Her eyes darted around, searching for any signs of recognition, but the streets were mostly empty, the only witnesses the occasional neon signs flickering to life in the night.

"You're going to make me cum before we even get there," she murmured, her voice tight with need. Her hand rested on your thigh, her nails digging in as the vibrations grew more intense.

"That's the plan," you said, your eyes never leaving the road. You had to admit, the thrill of it all was making it harder to focus on driving, but you weren't about to let that ruin the moment. You took a deep breath and concentrated on the task at hand, both literally and figuratively.

When you finally pulled into the mall's parking lot, you killed the engine and turned to her. "Ready?"

Gaeul nodded, a wicked smile playing on her lips as she took the mini camera from the center console. She attached it to your button shirt, making sure it was angled down to capture everything. The anticipation was like a living thing in the car, pulsing with every heartbeat.

You stepped out of the car, her hand in yours, the vibrator still nestled between her legs. The mall's bright lights washed over you both as you walked towards the entrance, her hips swaying slightly with each step. The thrill of what you were about to do made your heart race. Gaeul's hand was in your pocket, the vibrator's controller hidden from view as she expertly manipulated the settings, keeping her on the edge of ecstasy.

The mall was bustling with life, shoppers milling about with bags in hand, the sound of laughter and music filling the air. Despite the chaos, Gaeul's eyes never left yours. She leaned into you, her breath hot against your ear. "Keep going," she murmured, her voice a seductive whisper. The vibrator's intensity grew, and she stifled a moan, her knees threatening to buckle.

You led her through the crowded corridors, her hand tightening around yours as you passed by a group of teenagers, their heads swiveling to catch a glimpse of the famous idol. They had no idea what she was hiding beneath the oversized jacket, her pussy singing a silent symphony of pleasure with every step she took. You felt a rush of power, knowing that you had her right where you wanted her.

The camera captured everything, the secret life of a kpop star laid bare for the eyes of her devoted fans. She was both Gaeul the idol and 'like kim gaeul' the slut, and the dichotomy was intoxicating. You stopped in front of a lingerie store, the mannequins in the window dressed in lacy garments that made you think of her.

With a grin, you whispered, "Pick something out. Something that makes you feel like a slut." She blushed but didn't hesitate, her hand moving to the controller to reduce the intensity just enough to regain control. She stepped away, the vibrator still humming against her clit, as she scanned the racks of underwear.

You watched as she chose a black lace set, her eyes never leaving yours. The vibrator was a constant reminder of what was to come, a silent promise of pleasure that had her moving with a sensual grace that drew the attention of those around her. As she stepped into the changing room, you couldn't resist the urge to join her, the camera rolling as you closed the door behind you.

The small space was filled with the scent of new fabric and arousal as you both shed your clothes. She stepped into the lingerie, her body a canvas of desire. You took the camera and captured every moment, her skin glowing in the fluorescent light.

The vibrator was forgotten for a moment as you kissed, your hands roaming over her body, reacquainting themselves with every curve and dip. But soon enough, the need for more took over, and she slipped the panties to the side, exposing herself to the cool air. You took the controller and cranked it up, watching as her body responded, her eyes rolling back in pleasure.

The mall outside was oblivious to the erotic scene unfolding in the cramped changing room, the camera capturing every gasp and shiver. The sound of fabric rustling and the low murmur of shoppers' conversations were a stark contrast to the symphony of moans that filled the space.

As the vibrator brought her to the brink, you whispered, "Do it, baby. Cum for them." And with a scream that was muffled by your hand, she did, her body convulsing as the orgasm crashed over her. The camera kept rolling, capturing the moment of pure, unadulterated bliss that she had never allowed herself to feel before.

You both stepped out of the changing room, her face flushed, her eyes sparkling with the aftermath of her climax. The vibrator was tucked away, the secret of her pleasure safely hidden. The thrill of what had just transpired had her moving with an extra sway in her hips, a silent announcement to the world of what she had just done.

You led her through the mall, the vibrator's buzz a constant reminder of your shared power play. She bit her lip to stifle the moans that threatened to escape, her eyes darting around nervously. Each time you stopped to browse or chat with fans, she had to fight the urge to lean into you, to beg for more.

The feeling of the vibrator against her clit as you walked through the crowded mall was a delicious form of torture. Each step was a battle between maintaining her composure and succumbing to the pleasure that threatened to consume her. Her breath grew shallower, her eyes glassy with need as the minutes ticked by. The shoppers around her had no idea that their favorite idol was being brought to the edge of ecstasy right beside them.

You couldn't resist the urge to push her further. You whispered in her ear, "Keep walking, baby. Just a little longer." Each word was a challenge, a promise of more to come. The vibrator remained nestled between her legs, the humming a constant presence that had her legs trembling.

Gaeul managed to keep it together, though just barely. The feeling of you in control, of her body responding so viscerally to your commands, was a heady mix of fear and desire. She walked with you, her hand in yours, her body a live wire of pleasure.

Her steps grew more erratic as the vibrator continued to pulse against her, and you could see the struggle in her eyes. The mall's lights played across her flushed skin, casting shadows that only served to highlight her arousal. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, her eyes darting around as if searching for an escape from the relentless wave of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm her.

As you stepped out into the cool night air, Gaeul's grip on your hand tightened, her breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. "I can't... I can't take it anymore," she whimpered, her voice strained with need.

"Just hold it," you murmured into her ear, your voice a seductive rumble that sent shivers down her spine. "200 meters to the left is our car. Think about the rush when we finally get there."

Her eyes widened with a mix of terror and excitement, but she nodded. The vibrator was a persistent reminder of the thrill you were both chasing. You continued your leisurely stroll through the parking lot, Gaeul's hand in yours, the camera capturing every step she took.

As you approached the halfway point, Gaeul's resolve crumbled. With a gasp, she pulled away, her jacket and panties pooling at her ankles. The cold concrete met her bare skin, sending goosebumps racing across her body. She didn't care about the stares or the whispers, all she could focus on was the pulsing need between her legs. The vibrator slipped out of her and she stepped away from you, her hands moving to her clit.

"Oh fuck," she moaned, her legs shaking as the first spurt of pleasure shot through her. The vibrator lay forgotten on the ground as she squirted, her juices painting an abstract pattern on the pavement. The sight of her, standing there in the open, unabashedly claiming her sexuality was more than you could handle. Your cock throbbed in your pants, begging for release.

With a primal growl, you swooped her up into your arms, carrying her like a bride across the threshold. She wrapped her legs around your waist, her naked body pressed against yours, her pussy still quivering from the aftershocks of her orgasm. The cool night air kissed her skin, sending shivers down her spine that only served to heighten her arousal.

When you reached the car, you set her down gently, the anticipation thick between you. Her eyes locked onto the prize, the thick, throbbing cock that had brought her so much pleasure already that night. Without a word, she knelt before you, her hands trembling as she gripped your shaft firmly.

The cool air of the parking lot caressed her bare skin as she took you in her mouth, her eyes never leaving yours. The feel of her warm, wet mouth around you was almost too much to bear, but you held back, enjoying the show of power she had become so adept at giving. The vibrations from her pussy had made her desperate for release, and now she was eager to return the favor.

Her mouth worked you with the skill of a pro, her tongue dancing around the head, teasing the slit before taking you deep. You could feel her eagerness, her hunger for your pleasure a mirror to your own. The camera captured it all, the look of pure need on her face, the way her eyes watered as she took you deeper.

Her hands moved to your ass, her nails digging in as she worked you faster, her own orgasm still a fresh memory. You watched as she swallowed around you, her cheeks hollowing with each bob of her head. The sight was too much, and with a roar, you came, spilling your seed down her throat. She took it all, her eyes never leaving yours, a silent declaration of victory in her gaze.

You helped her to her feet, her legs wobbly from the intense climax. She leaned into you, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. Behind the car, hidden from view, you didn't hold back as you kissed her deeply, tasting yourself on her lips. The adrenaline from the public display had you both on edge, your bodies craving more.

Without a word, you turned her around and bent her over the trunk, her ass in the air. The vibrator was forgotten, replaced by the need for the real thing. You lined up with her wet entrance, her moan muffled by your hand as you slammed into her. She was tight, a perfect fit around you, her pussy clenching as you began to pound into her.

The sound of your skin slapping against hers echoed through the quiet parking lot, a rhythm that grew louder with each thrust. Gaeul's eyes rolled back in pleasure, her body moving with yours in a dance that was both fierce and beautiful. The fear of being caught only added to the excitement, each grunt and gasp a silent chant of "fuck yes" that seemed to resonate through the night.

Her moans grew louder, her body begging for release. You knew she was close, could feel it in the way her pussy gripped you like a vise. With one hand, you reached around, finding her clit and pinching it hard. She came with a scream that you muffled with your hand, her body shaking violently as the orgasm ripped through her. You followed suit, your own climax a hot wave that left you weak in the knees.

You both stood there for a moment, panting, the cold metal of the car cool against your skin. The thrill of the moment had etched itself into your bones, a memory that would fuel your fantasies for weeks to come. The camera had captured it all, a testament to your wild night of rebellion and desire.

With a final, lingering kiss, you pulled away and helped her into the car. The drive to her penthouse was filled with a mix of excitement and exhaustion. You watched her in the rearview mirror, her eyes heavy with satisfaction, the glow of the city lights reflecting off her sweat-slicked skin. You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in her transformation, from a shy idol to a sexual goddess claiming what she wanted without fear.

When you finally pulled up to her building, she took one last look at you before exiting the car, the oversized jacket still hanging loosely around her. She leaned in through the window, her eyes shining with a mix of gratitude and mischief. "Thank you for an amazing night," she murmured, her voice a seductive whisper that sent a shiver down your spine.

You watched her retreating figure as she sashayed towards the elevator, her hips still swaying with the aftermath of the intense public encounter. The thrill of it all was like a drug, leaving you craving more. As the elevator doors closed, you couldn't help but wonder what the next chapter in this secret life would hold.

Once back in her penthouse, Gaeul wasted no time in editing the video you had just shot. She sat cross-legged on the floor, her laptop open before her, her eyes glued to the screen. The sight of herself on the screen, her face contorted with pleasure, had her panties growing damp again. She felt a twinge of guilt for enjoying the objectification, but it was quickly drowned out by the rush of power and excitement it brought her.

Her nimble fingers flew across the keyboard, snipping and arranging the footage with a finesse that belied her inexperience. Each edit brought her closer to the climax she had experienced in the mall, her body responding to the visual cues she had so meticulously captured. She watched her own face, the desperation in her eyes as she came in the changing room, and her breath caught in her throat.

The video was a masterpiece of desire and rebellion, a testament to the woman she had become. Each frame was a declaration of her sexual prowess, a stark contrast to the innocent girl-next-door image her fans adored. Her heart raced as she added a seductive soundtrack, the bass thumping through her chest like a heartbeat.

Her hand slipped between her legs, her pussy already wet and aching for release. She watched herself take your cock in her mouth, her own mouth watering at the sight. The vibrator she had used earlier was forgotten in the bedroom, but she didn't need it now. Her mind was the best toy she had, replaying the sensations of the night as she touched herself.

Her strokes grew faster as she watched herself get fucked against the car, her orgasm building like a crescendo. The video was almost done, and she knew it would be a hit on her OnlyFans. The thought of her fans jerking off to her most intimate moments had her on edge, her clit swollen and begging for attention.

As she reached the climax of her editing, her own climax hit her like a wave, crashing over her body and leaving her trembling. She stared at the screen, her chest heaving, the video now a perfect representation of the raw, unbridled lust that had taken her over.

With a satisfied smile, she hit 'publish', sending the video into the abyss of the internet. The anticipation was almost as sweet as the act itself. She knew the response would be intense, the comments and messages flooding in like a storm of validation.

For a moment, she just sat there, basking in the glow of her own rebellious spirit. The line between Gaeul the idol and 'like kim gaeul' had blurred, but in that blur, she had found a sense of freedom she had never known before. She took a deep breath and leaned back, her body sated and her mind racing with ideas for the next wild adventure.

As the video spread through the depths of the internet like wildfire, the comments section grew more and more frenzied. Fans speculated, their imaginations running wild. Some posted gifs of her shocked expressions from music videos, others wrote feverishly about their newfound love for her 'naughty' side. The anonymity of the platform allowed them to express their darkest desires, and she reveled in every word.

One comment caught her eye, though. It was from an account with a profile picture that was eerily similar to one of her backup dancers. 'If real gaeul watching this...' it read, followed by a series of emojis that could only be interpreted as shock and arousal. Her heart skipped a beat as she wondered if it was him, if he knew her secret. But she pushed the thought aside. Tonight was about her, about the power she held in the palm of her hand, quite literally.

The next day, the buzz had reached a fever pitch. Her video had become the talk of the town, the whispers of "Did you see?" echoing through the hallways of the entertainment company she worked for. She walked with her head held high, her secret identity like a secret weapon she could unleash at any moment. The thrill of potentially being recognized, of the world knowing what she had done, was a potent aphrodisiac.

The fear of being caught was a thrill she hadn't anticipated. Each time she saw a group of people huddled around a phone, her heart raced. But she was careful, always one step ahead. The persona of 'like kim gaeul' was a double-edged sword, one that could both elevate and destroy her career. But for now, she reveled in the power it gave her.

Her interactions with fans grew more intense, their gazes lingering just a moment too long. They knew something had changed about her, could feel the electricity in the air when she walked by. The whispers grew louder, the glances more knowing. And she loved it. She was no longer just a pretty face on a poster, she was a force to be reckoned with.

But amidst the chaos, she found a strange comfort in the arms of Y/N. He was her rock, her confidant in this new world of secret lust and public adoration. The bond between them had grown stronger with each shared secret, each intimate moment captured for their private pleasure.

Their relationship had evolved beyond the physical, into something deeper, more profound. They had become co-conspirators in a game of desire played out for the world to see, yet only they knew the rules. The thought of him watching the video, his eyes dark with need, had her squirming in her seat.

Gaeul knew she had to tread carefully. The line between her two worlds was precariously thin, and one wrong move could shatter the illusion. But she was addicted to the rush, the thrill of the unknown. And as she scrolled through the endless stream of comments, she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride, of accomplishment. She had done what no other idol dared, and she had done it with style.

The story of 'like kim gaeul' was just beginning, and she was ready to write the next chapter. Whether it was in the safety of her penthouse or in the shadowed corners of the city, she was going to claim what was hers. Her heart pounded in her chest as she thought of the possibilities, the thrills and dangers that awaited her. But she knew she wasn't alone. With Y/N by her side, she could conquer the world. Or at least, the internet.

[catnykit]

Carmen Pace picrews!!!!!!!! And this is ASLO rushed ha ha ha ha ha. Ha.

Savw me time save me aaaa

(Credits; 1,2,3,from left to right to down♡)

Yes her hair is pink yes maybe i should have mentioned it ANYWAY shes our local yandere,Going insane

(aslo the last one is the most accurate it just lacks her eyebags 😔)

Stuff👍

[wordsofwhimsy]

𝓑𝓸𝓭𝔂 𝓛𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓰𝓮

Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x f!Reader

Warnings: Sweet, sweet smut

Tags: Fluff, language barrier, oral (f receiving), sex

Word Count: 2,263

Synopsis: Mark is on mission in a foreign country, but the sight of you leaves him dumbstruck.

The late afternoon sun spilled gold across the cobblestone streets, warming everything it touched. Market stalls were starting to pack up, and soft, lilting music floated from somewhere unseen. Mark touched down in a quiet alley just a block away from the town square, switching out of his bloodstained uniform and into something slightly less conspicuous—jeans and a sweater. The usual.

The mission had been quick. Get in, take out the anomaly, report back to Cecil. But something pulled at him, telling him to linger. Maybe it was the way this little town felt suspended in time, or maybe it was exhaustion. Either way, his stomach rumbled and his head ached, and he figured he had time for a quick break.

That’s when he saw you.

Sitting alone at a table outside a café, legs crossed like you knew they were being stared at, fishnet stockings catching the sun, short black dress hugging your figure just right. Red heels kicked gently at the empty chair across from you as you sipped a cappuccino like it was fine wine. Red lipstick, matching, dangerously perfect. Your hair fell in soft, effortless waves, and Mark swore he could smell your perfume from half a block away.

He stopped walking. Just… stood there. Staring. Probably with his mouth open.

Holy shit.

It wasn’t just that you were hot—though, yeah, you were like, rude levels of hot—but there was something about the way you looked out in the world. Relaxed. Unbothered. Like you belonged in a painting someone would overpay for.

He had no plan. No idea what to say. But his feet started moving before his brain caught up.

He slid into the chair across from you, awkward but trying to play it cool.

"Uh… hi."

You blinked at him. Tilted your head slightly, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m sorry,” you said, accent thick and sultry, “I… don’t speak… English very well.”

Mark froze. God. Even your voice sounded like sin wrapped in silk.

He laughed—nervous, charming, boyish. “That’s okay. I don’t speak… um, whatever this is.” He gestured vaguely, earning a quiet, amused hum from you.

You leaned forward just a little, elbow on the table, chin in your hand. Your eyes sparkled like you knew exactly what you were doing.

"Name?" you asked softly.

“Mark,” he said quickly, pointing to himself. “Mark.”

You nodded. “Mark.” You repeated it slowly, letting the syllables roll off your tongue like a prayer. He swore he felt it in his spine.

Then you pointed to yourself. “Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he echoed, and it came out a little breathless.

You giggled, covering your mouth. He’d never wanted to be a cappuccino cup so badly in his life.

And just like that, the air between you sizzled—language barrier or not.

Mark had no idea how long you two sat there.

Every glance, every half-smile you gave him, every time your lips brushed the rim of that cappuccino cup—it all made his pulse quicken. You didn’t say much. Didn’t have to. The conversation unfolded in laughter, in pointing at silly things on the café menu, in mimed gestures and the occasional word you both happened to know.

And the way you looked at him? Like you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

Eventually, you stood, smoothed your dress over your thighs, and gave him a look that didn’t need translation. “Walk with me?” you asked, English soft and tentative.

Mark nodded, stunned stupid, and followed without a second thought.

The sun was dipping lower now, casting everything in warm, honeyed light. The streets were quieter. Your heels clicked against stone with each step, rhythmic and hypnotic, and Mark walked beside you like a man possessed.

At one point, you slipped your arm into his, and he felt every nerve in his body light up. His skin burned where you touched him—like you’d tattooed yourself into him without trying.

You led him down a narrow street, through a little archway blooming with flowers, and up a stone staircase. Quiet. Secluded.

Your place.

You unlocked the door with a soft click and looked over your shoulder at him, eyes half-lidded, a ghost of a smirk on your lips.

“I make you… coffee?” you offered, voice velvet.

He laughed, breathless. “I’m not really here for coffee.”

You stepped inside. “No,” you murmured. “I know.”

Your place smelled like perfume and something floral. The windows were open, curtains drifting like whispers. A lamp glowed warmly in the corner, casting your silhouette in soft curves as you kicked off your heels by the door.

Mark stood awkwardly at first—nervous, unsure, but already burning.

You turned, walking slowly toward him. You didn’t speak. Just reached up, gently tugging his hoodie off, fingertips grazing bare skin as his shirt followed.

He exhaled like you’d knocked the wind out of him.

Your fingers slid up his chest, nails teasing lightly over muscle. He was warm—solid beneath your touch. He caught your waist in both hands, pulling you in close, breath shallow.

Your lips brushed his—barely.

Then again.

And then your mouths met like gravity had yanked you together. Urgent. Hungry. He groaned softly as you pressed into him, your fingers threading into his hair, tugging just enough to make him hiss.

Somehow you were in his lap now, straddling him on the couch. His hands roamed your thighs, fingers slipping beneath the edge of that short black dress. The fishnets were soft under his touch, and he dragged a hand slowly up one leg, eyes flickering with awe.

“You’re…” he muttered against your lips, “...so fucking beautiful.”

You smiled, lazy and confident. “Say it again.”

“Beautiful,” he whispered, kissing along your jaw. “Perfect.”

You tilted your head back, breath catching as he bit softly at your neck. His hands found the curve of your hips, holding you in place like he didn’t want to forget the way you felt in his arms.

The rest of your clothes came off in a slow blur—every piece a promise, every inch of skin exposed another reason for him to lose his mind.

And when he finally had you beneath him, body flush against yours, your eyes locked and the world slipped away.

He didn’t need to understand your language. Not when your body spoke directly to his.

Not when every sigh, every moan, every whispered “yes, Mark,” told him everything he needed to know.

And he gave himself over to it—over to you—completely.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you unzipped the back of your dress, eyes never leaving his. Mark was seated on the edge of your bed now, shirtless, hair mussed from where you'd tugged at it, lips kiss-swollen and parted. He watched you with the kind of awe that made your chest tighten.

The dress slipped from your shoulders and fell to the floor in a hush of fabric, leaving you in fishnets and your bra—lace, black, delicate against your skin.

Mark swallowed. “Jesus.”

You smirked. Crossed the room slowly, like you had all the time in the world, like the way he looked at you didn’t make you feel like the most dangerous thing alive.

“You okay?” you teased, stepping between his legs, fingers slipping into his hair.

“Not even close,” he breathed.

You kissed him again—slower this time. Deeper. You rolled your hips against him, and he groaned low into your mouth, hands grabbing at your thighs, sliding up until they found your ass.

In one fluid motion, he had you on your back, the soft mattress dipping under your weight. He crawled over you, kissing down your neck, your chest, between your breasts. He made his way lower, stopping at the band of your fishnets.

“These should be illegal,” he said, voice rough as his hands traced up the length of your legs. “Actually, no. Don’t take them off.”

“Mark—” you gasped, fingers digging into the sheets as his mouth followed his hands. His lips skimmed along the inside of your thigh, teasing, before he dipped his head and kissed you exactly where you needed him. Your voice caught in your throat as your hips jerked upward, and Mark held you down gently, arms firm around your thighs as he worked you over like he had all the time in the world.

And he didn’t stop. Not until your legs were trembling, your voice was raw with moans you didn’t care if the neighbors heard, and your body arched helplessly under his.

When he finally pulled back, his mouth was shiny, and he looked far too smug for someone still fully dressed from the waist down.

You tugged at his belt next, fumbling just enough for it to be sexy. He helped, quick and rough, stripping down until he was above you—naked, flushed, gorgeous.

He paused for a second, forehead resting against yours.

Then, with a shaky breath, he slid inside slowly, giving you time to adjust, breathing through clenched teeth as your body welcomed him in. The stretch was perfect, the way he filled you just enough to make your breath hitch.

His pace deepened, hitting something inside you that made stars dance behind your eyelids—you gasped, head falling back, and the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

The syllables were soft and breathless, curling into the space between you like smoke—Mark didn’t understand a single word, but every part of him felt it.

Mark stilled for a second, breath catching like you’d just said something sacred. His eyes darkened, body tense above yours.

“…what did you just say?” he rasped.

“I—” Your voice caught. “Don’t… know how to say in English.” It came out shaky, soft. Honest.

Mark’s jaw flexed. You watched his throat move as he swallowed hard, eyes locked on you like you were something holy he didn’t want to mess up.

“Doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “I heard it.”

He kissed you again—slow and deep, dragging the taste of those words from your mouth like he could learn the meaning just by how you said them.

“Say it again.”

You did. Softer this time. And he didn’t need to ask what it meant.

Not when your body told him everything.

He kissed you like he needed it to breathe—deeper now, slower, hands framing your face like you were something priceless. He thrust into you again, watching the way your mouth parted, the way your body arched, saying those words again like they meant everything.

Whatever it meant, it was raw. It was real. And it was his.

He started to move—slow at first, every thrust purposeful, grinding into you just right. He kissed you through it, like he was trying to memorize your mouth, your taste, the little noises you made when he hit that spot.

You wrapped your legs around him, urging him deeper, harder, and he gave in, hips snapping against yours now, the pace desperate and filthy and so, so good.

“Fuck,” he gasped against your shoulder. “You feel—God, you feel unreal.”

Your nails raked down his back, and he cursed again, grabbing your hands and pinning them above your head, fucking you into the mattress with renewed focus.

“You gonna come for me?” he whispered. “Wanna feel you—shit—I wanna feel you come around me.”

“Mark—oh my god, yes—”

You shattered beneath him, voice breaking on his name as your whole body arched into his. He followed just moments later, burying himself deep with a choked groan, hands gripping your thighs like lifelines as he spilled into you.

The room was quiet except for the sound of your breathing—slow, heavy, mingling together.

Mark lay beside you, one arm draped across your waist, thumb lazily stroking your hip. Your fishnets were still on. He’d made a point to keep that promise.

You rolled to face him, brushing hair from his face. “Okay?” you asked softly.

He laughed, breathless. “I think I’m in love.”

You blinked. “Love?”

He shrugged. “Have you seen yourself?”

Your looked puzzled—not guarded, not doubtful—just… unsure. Still caught up in the accent, the language that wasn’t quite yours.

Mark froze, then realized. You hadn’t understood him.

He opened his mouth to explain, but you were already giggling—soft and sleepy, hiding your smile behind your hand like you couldn’t help it. The sound wrapped around his ribs and tugged tight, making something inside him ache in the best way.

He groaned, burying his face in the pillow. “Oh my god. This is unfair. You’re not allowed to look like that and laugh like that.”

You leaned over, fingers trailing down his spine. “What did you say?”

He peeked up at you, sheepish. “Nothing.”

“Not nothing,” you teased, poking his side.

“I said I think I’m in love,” he repeated in a mutter.

You blinked again. And then—slowly—you whispered the word back, trying it out in your mouth like it was something foreign. “Love…”

Mark smiled. “Yeah. That one.”

You stared at him for a second, heart thudding so loud you could feel it in your fingertips.

And then, very softly, you said something. In your own language again. A single word. Gentle. Careful. Almost shy.

Mark didn’t know what it meant.

But the way you looked at him when you said it?

He didn’t need to. And as you curled into him, legs tangled, hearts still racing… he knew he’d never forget tonight.

Not for the rest of his life.

[angel-writes-skz-here]

Pool Day

Stray Kids x 9th member!Reader Synopsis: The guys find out important information about their band member.Warnings: Reader going underwater.A/N: So I want to start trying to do more soft and sweet fics like this one. So PLEASE if you have any idea, send them to me. Thank you for your love and support! Thank you for the request, love! Comment to be tagged in future fics! Xoxo

He didn’t mean to do it, Changbin thought it would be funny, so when he threw you in the pool and you didn’t come back up he started to panic.

Meanwhile you’re underwater, arms flailing and legs kicking wildly hearing a distant sound of what sounds like yelling above water, and before you know what’s happening, two arms are pulling you up to the surface where you gasp for air; eyes stinging slightly from the chlorine.

You wipe the water from your face turning to see Chan, hair and street clothes soaked. He obviously hadn’t changed yet.

“Thank you,” you whisper in his ear as you throw your arms around his neck.

“No problem kiddo,” he smiles.

“But you never mentioned you didn’t know how to swim,” he says cautiously and quietly, not wanting to make you feel bad.

“Didn’t really think I’d need to,” you mumble as you step back from him making your way to the exit of the pool.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry I had no idea you couldn’t swim!” Changbin apologizes as he walks up to you, checking over your body as if you’d been in combat or something.

“It’s fine, Binnie, I’m ok. You didn’t know,” you try to shrug it off.

“We can teach you,” Felix pipes up.

“You’d do that for me?”

“That or we could just tell Stay your weakness and we could all drown you come our next concert!” Lee Know offers and you shoot him a bird playfully, making him laugh.

“Come on, we’ll all help,” I.N says as he dives into the pool head first. You watch as Seungmin and Felix follow after, and the rest of the boys after them.

“Come on, I’ve gotcha.” Chan says as he leads you into the water again.

You’re surround by the guys, their gaze mainly on Chan. He leads out you to where the water is chest deep.

“Ok, bounce off your feet, and let yourself float,” he instructs and you feel Changbin come up behind you.

“It’s my fault so I can help,” he says sheepishly.

“It’s fine, not like I died,” you grin and playfully punch his solid shoulder.

Changbin puts his arms underneath you, helping you float.

“Great job, Y/n!” you hear Felix and Han shout, being your personal cheerleaders. You giggle at them, once they start spelling your name like actual cheerleaders.

“Now, move your arms like this,” Seungmin interjects, grabbing your attention from the Sunshine twins. You watch as he moves his arms and mimic his actions.

“And kick your feet,” Chan reminds. You mimic the motions and they smile at you.

“Exactly like that! Yeah, see and now Changbin can drop his arms,”

“No!” Your voice makes everyone stop.

“I mean,” you say trying to back track.

“Y/n, what’s wrong? You’ll float,” Chan trails off.

“No I know, I just, I was in the pool with my sister as a kid and she did the same thing, trying to teach me to swim and she dropped her arms too early and I sank, I barely made it out.” You admit and the guys give you sympathetic looks.

“I’m not gonna let you go under,” Chan drawls, “We’re right here with you, ok? IF anything were to happen we’ve got ya,” he reassures you. You take a deep breath and nod your head, signaling for Changbin to drop his arms and you start moving your legs and arms the way the boys showed you to.

They all break out into smiles as you start weakly swimming.

“I’m doing it!” You shout excited about your accomplishment. The guys smile and cheer for you.

“I told you nothing would happen!” Chan says as he swims up behind you.

“Now you just need to practice and you’ll get stronger,” he mentions as he helps you turn around and swim back to the shallower water.

The rest of the afternoon is filled with the guys all showing off different techniques and helping you get your footing in each one, and they promise to help you and keep working with you over the summer.

“Thank you, guys, for you help.” You say sheepishly at the end of the swim practice.

“Absolutely. Stay would freak if we lost you due to drowning. So would JYP,” Seungmin says as he slings an arm around our shoulder. You nudge his side as you smile and shake your head.

-

Later that night the guys are playing chicken while you and Chan are sitting off to the side enjoying a snack.

“I really can’t believe your sister did that you as a kid. She seems so nice,” Chan causally mentions.

“She is, she didn’t mean it, she actually saved me.”

“Thought about committing the crime and then back out last minute,” he nudges you playfully and you both laugh.

“Thank you again for today. I really appreciate you guys helping me, and not laughing at me,” you say while your cheeks dust a bit of pink, “It’s always been a little embrassing for me.

There’s nothing to embarrassed of, y/n. Everybody learns things at their own pace, ok? It’s just like driving, some people learn at 16 some people learn at 26. Some people may never learn. That doesn’t mean anything’s wrong with them or they should be embarrassed. Not everyone has to learn to do everything,” he mentions as he slings a brotherly arm around your shoulder. You lean into him, a small smile present on your face as you watch Lee Know push Han off Changbin’s shoulder’s in a game of Chicken.

Tags:@breakmeoff @thelovelybireader @crystal005 @velvetmoonlght

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[inseobts]

So I see 👀👀 requests are open! I really really love your writing and would like to request a scenario with Sabo. The fem!reader would be like some kind of investigator for hire and would do any job if the price is right, from finding out if your spouse is cheating to infiltrating a royal court to give you top secret info and Sabo is trying to get her to join the Revolutionary Army every time they come across eachother (which is a lot because spying on the bourgeoisie is a lucrative job 😏����)

Blondie and Detective

sabo x fem!reader

a/n: this came out really really long but I kept getting ideas, so I hope you'll enjoy it aw

words count: 8.5k

tags: espionage, revolution vs profit, enemies to lovers vibes, tension, slow burn, action, banter-heavy

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

Rain taps on the rooftop like impatient fingers. A thick fog creeps over the city, a rich people’s kingdom, where gold means everything and truth means nothing.

You’re crouched on the roof of a fancy estate, watching the ballroom through your scope. Music floats up through open windows. Nobles dance below, laughing like they’ve never known fear. You’re not here for the music or the wine. You’re here for the letter.

Your client said the Duke is hiding something, military plans, maybe trade secrets. Doesn’t matter. You get paid to find things, not judge them.

You adjust the lens, zoom in on a stiff-looking man in a red jacket. Messenger. Sweaty hands. Nervous eyes. You watch as he slips a sealed envelope to a servant girl, who disappears through a side door.

“Gotcha” you whisper.

You slide down the gutter pipe, quiet as a cat. Through a second-story balcony, in and out like smoke. You’re halfway to the hallway when— “You’re getting sloppy.”

You freeze. That voice.

You turn, slow, annoyed.

There he is. Blond curls, black coat, arms crossed, goggles pushed up like he owns the place. He always shows up like this, out of nowhere, with that smug little smile like he knows something you don’t.

“Blondie...” you say flatly.

“Miss me?” he says.

You stare “You’re in my way.”

He glances behind you at the ballroom “You’re after the letter?”

“I was,” you snap “Until someone decided to start chatting in the middle of my job.”

“Someone just saved you from getting shot,” he says casually “Third window to the left. Look.”

You do. And yeah... there’s a guy with a crossbow, watching the hallway like a hawk. You mutter a curse under your breath.

“Fine,” you say “Thanks.”

Sabo grins “You’re welcome.”

He steps closer. Too close. You don’t move.

“So,” he says, “same question as always. Ready to stop chasing paychecks and join the Revolution?”

You raise an eyebrow “Same answer as always. No.”

“You could do more with your skills.”

“I am doing more. I’m doing everything. For the right price.”

He laughs “You really don’t care who hires you?”

“As long as the money’s good and the target’s worse than me? No.”

“That’s a short list.”

“Lucky for me, the world’s full of bad people.”

You sidestep him, heading toward the hallway. You don’t look back. You already know he’s following.

“You could work with me�� he says.

“You’re not my type.”

“I meant on the job.”

“So did I.”

You peek around the corner. Two guards. One hallway. No problem.

“You know,” Sabo says quietly behind you, “we’d make a good team.”

You glance at him over your shoulder “You talk too much.”

“And you like it.”

You roll your eyes “Don’t push your luck, Blondie.”

He smirks “Lead the way, detective.”

You move. Fast. Quiet. Focused.

He follows. Loud in a way that’s not about sound, just there, filling the space with heat and chaos and questions you don’t want to ask.

Not yet.

Maybe later.

You’re halfway through a lukewarm cup of black coffee when the bell over the café door jingles.

You don’t look up at first. This job’s too easy to expect trouble. Rich guy thinks his assistant is stealing silverware. Real dramatic stuff. You’re here to follow the assistant and confirm if he’s a thief or just has a twitchy pocket.

You glance at the small mirror propped on your table. You freeze.

Of course.

Of course.

Sabo slides into the seat across from you like it’s his usual spot. Black coat. Blond curls. That same casual look, like he just woke up in a castle and decided to crash your life again.

You squint at him “No way.”

“Hi to you, too.” he says, resting his chin on his hand like this is a date.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“This café has really good scones,” he says, then lowers his voice “And there’s something important going on.”

You stare “Important? This isn’t a revolutionary hotspot. It’s a bakery. My target is stealing forks.”

“There’s more to it than that” he says, calm. Too calm.

You narrow your eyes “You’re telling me this boring little fork-theft job is somehow connected to the Revolutionary Army?”

“I’m saying it might be.”

You fold your arms “That’s not an answer.”

He shrugs “I don’t give out answers for free anymore.”

You snort “Since when do you hold information hostage?”

“Since I realized it’s the only way to get you to work with me.”

You lean back in your chair, staring at him “So what—you want me to partner up again?”

He smiles “Just for this one. Could be fun.”

“Last time I nearly got a knife in the leg.”

“You didn’t, though.”

“Because I handled it.”

He lifts his coffee cup “Exactly. Imagine how easy this would be if we teamed up from the start.”

You shake your head “Nope. Not biting.”

“Even if it’s bigger than it looks?” he asks, voice lower now, just serious enough to make your gut tighten.

You hate that you’re curious.

You try to ignore the itch in your brain “If you’re so sure it’s something big, why not handle it alone?”

“I could,” he says, eyes locked with yours “But I don’t want to.”

That throws you off for a second. You look away, annoyed at your own pause.

He sips his drink like he hasn’t just dropped that weird little truth bomb.

“Still no,” you mutter “You don’t get to dangle mystery crap in front of me and expect me to follow like a puppy.”

“No puppy I’ve ever met carries poison darts in her coat” he says, grinning.

You smile in spite of yourself. Just a little.

Then you stand “Good luck with your important fork mission, Blondie. I’ll be watching from my own shadow.”

He stays seated, smiling up at you “I’ll be around if you change your mind.”

You turn and walk away, but you feel his eyes on your back all the way out the door.

You hate that he makes things interesting.

You hate it even more that a part of you wants to go back and ask what the hell is really going on.

You’re bored.

That’s the most dangerous thing in your line of work. Not bullets. Not knives. Not corrupt guards with itchy trigger fingers.

Boredom.

It makes your mind wander. Makes you look too long at the gold-plated chandeliers. At the delicate snacks on silver trays. At the man across from you trying way too hard to impress you.

And it makes you think of him.

You haven’t seen him in months. Not since that stupid fork job. At first, it was nice. Peaceful, even. No smug smile sneaking up behind you. No lectures about changing the world. No offers to join the Revolution.

But noow it’s weird.

You almost miss him. Not that you’d say it out loud. Or even admit it to yourself for more than a second. But the question keeps floating through your brain:

Why hasn’t he shown up?

And why are you thinking about him in the middle of a mission?

You blink and focus. You’re at a royal gala. Dressed like someone who belongs here. Elegant, expensive, bored out of your mind. Your target is a noble—round, rich, red-nosed, and currently getting suspiciously cozy with a foreign diplomat. You’re supposed to keep an eye on him, maybe follow him when he leaves.

Easy. Too easy.

Which is probably why your brain is being stupid.

“—and I said, if I wanted a real ship, I’d buy one, not borrow from the Marines” says the man in front of you, laughing at his own joke. You don’t remember his name. You never bothered to learn it.

He leans closer “You’ve been quiet. Thinking about me?”

You look at him like he’s a mosquito “No.”

He grins anyway “Come now, beautiful. A woman like you shouldn’t be sitting here alone.”

You’re about to lie or stab him with your butter knife, but then—

“Mind if I steal this beautiful woman for a dance?”

That voice.

That voice.

Your heart stumbles. You look up.

He’s there. Blond, charming, annoyingly handsome in a formal coat that fits him too well. Goggles gone. Hair slicked back just enough.

He’s holding out his hand, smile calm but eyes watching you. Carefully. Like he’s not sure you’ll take it.

You don’t say anything. You just rise from your chair, take his hand, and walk away like the other guy doesn’t even exist. You don’t look back.

“Wow,” Sabo murmurs as you reach the dance floor “Didn’t think you’d actually shove him like that.”

“I didn’t shove,” you mutter “I guided.”

He laughs “Gently guided him into the furniture.”

“You’re late.”

“For the dance?”

“For everything.”

He twirls you, smooth, confident. Then pulls you close again. Too close. You suddenly realize how warm he is. How steady. How his hand fits perfectly at your back, guiding you toward.

“Let’s dance next to your target” he says quietly, like it’s a secret between only you two.

You don’t even ask how he knows. You just let him lead.

You move through the crowd together, twirling and gliding right into the perfect position. Your target is just over Sabo’s shoulder now.

Only when you’re in place do you realize how close your faces are. How his breath brushes your cheek when he speaks.

“I’m sorry” he says.

You blink “What?”

“I should’ve said something. Disappearing for that long, it wasn’t the plan.”

You snort “Why are you apologizing? It’s not like we work together. Or like we’re friends. Or something like that.”

He raises an eyebrow “Something like that, huh?”

You hate how your face warms.

You don’t answer. You look over his shoulder again, watching your target raise a drink and whisper something into a diplomat’s ear.

But part of your mind is still stuck on the weight of his hand on your waist. And the fact that he did come back.

You move across the ballroom floor like you belong there, like you care about this dance. But your heart is nowhere near your target anymore.

It’s stuck somewhere between the weight of his hand on your waist and the word he just said.

“Sorry.”

You glance up “You already said that.”

“I meant it.” His voice is quieter now “I’ve got… news.”

You raise an eyebrow “Let me guess. You’ll only tell me if I say yes to joining the Revolution.”

He smiles a little “I usually would.”

You sigh, already annoyed, then you freeze.

Because this time… He speaks.

“I remembered everything.”

You blink “What?”

“My past. My childhood. It came back.” He swallows, and for once, he’s not looking at you like he has the upper hand “I remembered my brothers. And I found one of them.”

Your mouth opens. No sound comes out.

“I met Luffy again,” Sabo says, voice soft but full “After all those years.”

Luffy.

You’ve heard that name before. That’s the kid... no, the pirate, who’s shaking the world right now.

Your brain struggles to keep up “Wait. You have a brother who’s… that Luffy?”

“I had two brothers,” he says, and there’s something heavy in his voice now “One of them… Ace… died.”

You feel the shift in him. In the room. Like all the noise and music fades into nothing.

“I never remembered him until now,” he continues “And when I did… I found out about his Devil Fruit. What was left of him. And I—”

He hesitates, just for a second. Then “I fought for it. And I won.”

You stare at him. Not just at the words but the way he says them. Like they’re not secrets. Like he wants you to know.

Like you’re someone who deserves to know.

Which is ridiculous.

You don’t ask about his past. You don’t share yours. That’s the deal. That’s how this works.

But he’s looking at you like you’re close. And that’s too much.

You stop dancing. Right there in the middle of the floor.

He blinks “What—?”

You take a step back, breaking the space between you. It suddenly feels hot. Too loud. Too much.

But then you see his face, open, confused, a little hurt.

Damn it.

You grab his wrist “Come with me.”

He lets you pull him without asking questions. You weave through the crowd, out the side door, into the cool, quiet air of the garden balcony.

He finally speaks “What about your target?”

You turn, facing him “I don’t care.”

His eyebrows lift “You… don’t?”

“Not right now,” you say, crossing your arms “Keep talking.”

He looks surprised. Really surprised. Then he smiles. Not his usual smirk. Something softer.

“You actually want to know?”

“Maybe,” you mutter “Don’t let it go to your head.”

He laughs once “Alright, detective. Where should I start?”

You shrug, trying to ignore how fast your heart is beating “Wherever you left off.”

The balcony is quiet. The soft sound of the party behind you fades into the background. You lean against the railing, arms crossed, as Sabo stands in front of you, looking for once like a man who doesn’t have it all under control.

He tells you everything.

Not just the facts, but the feelings, too. About losing his memories. About waking up with holes in his mind. About the strange weight in his chest when he saw Luffy again. About the funeral he missed, the brother he remembered too late. About the fire fruit. The tournament. The fight. The win.

You don’t interrupt. You just… listen.

And when he’s done, there’s silence between you. He watches you, waiting. You tilt your head slightly.

“Okay, Blondie,” you say slowly, your voice calm, almost teasing “I know about Ace. From the news. The whole world does.”

His eyebrows shoot up “First thing, my name isn’t Blondie but it’s Sabo. And then… you know?”

You nod skipping past the name thing he said “I mean… big fire guy. Big execution. Big mess. Sad ending. Even someone like me couldn’t miss it.” You pause. Then smirk “So now you got fire powers?”

He blinks “I—yeah, I do.”

“Prove it.” You lean in slightly “Show me.”

His eyes widen “Here?”

“Why not? There's no one else.”

Sabo stares at you for a second, like he’s trying to decide if you’re serious. You are.

He sighs once, smiles, then lifts his hand.

One finger rises. His gloved hand stills in the air. And then a flame sparks to life at the tip of his index finger.

Not just a spark. It burns. Bright. Alive. Orange and gold, like a piece of the sun. It dances, hot and proud, like it knows who it used to belong to.

You lean closer, eyes narrowing “Huh.”

“Huh?” he repeats, still holding the flame.

You smile “Didn’t think you were actually telling the truth.”

He gives a short laugh “I just spilled my entire life story to you.”

“I know. That was weird.”

He lowers his hand slowly, and the flame fades out. You feel the warmth linger on your skin, even though it’s gone.

“I thought you’d walk away” he says, watching you carefully.

“I almost did.”

“And now?”

You shrug “Now I’m just wondering what else you’ve been hiding.”

That gets a grin out of him “You’re not scared?”

“Of a little fire?” You smirk “Please. I’ve dealt with worse.”

He steps a little closer. Not touching you, just there “You’re something else.”

You look up at him “You’re just figuring that out now?”

The air out here is cooler, but your skin is still warm from the flame Sabo showed you. The fire’s gone, but he’s still close. Still looking at you like he’s seeing something real. Something he missed.

You’re not used to being seen like that.

He leans against the railing now, just beside you. The silence hangs between you, comfortable but heavy. Until he says,

“So… what about your target now?”

Your brain blanks for a second. You blink.

“…Target?”

You actually forgot. You. Forgot.

You straighten up a little, suddenly aware again “Shit—right. The guy. Cheating husband. Rich. Smells like fish. Probably still inside with his mistress.”

Sabo laughs quietly “You forgot?”

“Shut up,” you mutter, then pause. You look at him, narrowing your eyes “Wait a second.”

He tilts his head “What?”

“Blondie… why are you even here?” You gesture toward the ballroom “This wasn’t some world-changing event. Just a man cheating on his wife. I already figured it out. Mission solved. But what about your mission?”

He looks at you. And then, slowly, carefully, he says “You were my mission.”

Your heart trips over itself.

“W-what?” you stutter, and the sound of your own voice makes your face heat. You never stutter.

Sabo just smiles. Too pleased “That’s new.”

You frown “Shut up. What do you mean I was your mission?”

“I mean,” he says, leaning a little closer, “I was looking for you. That’s why I came.”

You blink at him again, confused “…To recruit me again?”

He shakes his head “No. I just wanted to talk. To explain. I didn’t like disappearing like that. Not without saying anything.”

You’re quiet. You weren’t expecting this. Not from him. Not tonight.

“So… you found me… just to say sorry?”

“Well,” he says, grinning now, “and maybe to see that look on your face when I said you were my mission.”

You roll your eyes, but it doesn’t hide the way your heart’s still racing “You’re the worst.”

“Maybe,” he says softly, “but I came back, didn’t I?”

You look at him. You hate how warm that makes you feel.

“Yeah,” you say, barely above a whisper “You did.”

“I just need a photo of him with his mistress,” you say as you push away from the railing “That’s all. Then I get paid.”

You shoot him a dry look “If you’re not busy, blondie… want to tag along?”

He grins “Lead the way, detective.”

You both head back inside. The music is still loud, the lights still too soft, the perfume in the air still expensive. You glide through the crowd, quiet, calm, focused. He walks behind you, hands in his pockets, like this is a stroll in the park.

You find the hallway the target mentioned earlier. Follow the plush carpet, past too many locked doors, until you reach a side room with long glass doors leading out to a small private balcony.

Perfect.

You sit on the floor in the shadowed corner just outside its small balcony, dress tucked around your legs. He sits beside you without asking.

You keep your eyes locked on the room inside. Your camera is ready. The lights are dimmed. No one’s here yet. But you know they’ll come.

Sabo… doesn’t watch the door.

He watches you.

You feel it after a while. His gaze. Quiet. Steady. Soft.

And then “You’re really beautiful tonight.”

It’s so quiet, you almost don’t catch it. You turn your head “What?”

His eyes go wide. Like he didn’t mean to say it out loud. Like the words slipped out and betrayed him.

“I mean...” he clears his throat, looking away, “you got all dressed up for a small mission. Just a cheating man. That’s a lot of effort.”

You smirk, letting him twist “Missions are all boring recently.”

He looks back at you. Eyes narrowing like he just heard something important.

“Missions are boring… recently, huh?” he repeats slowly “So what changed recently?”

You roll your eyes “Don’t start.”

He leans in, grin wide now “Wait. Wait. Don’t tell me.” He taps his chin “Could it be that without me, you got bored?”

You scoff “Keep dreaming, Blondie.”

“So I was your entertainment?”

“You were an annoyance.”

“A charming one.”

You bite back a smile “Debatable.”

But it’s too late. He’s grinning like a fool, clearly enjoying himself. And the worst part is that you don’t even hate it.

Not even a little.

Sabo is in the middle of his next line, probably something ridiculous like “I bet you missed me so much you cried yourself to sleep” when your hand shoots up.

“Shhh!” you hiss.

He blinks “What?”

You tilt your chin toward the room inside.

The door opens.

There he is. Your target. Same smug walk, same too-shiny shoes. And hanging on his arm his mistress, laughing at something he said. They head toward the balcony.

Your balcony.

“Shit,” you whisper “They’re coming out here—”

You grab Sabo’s wrist and pull.

Fast.

You barely have a second to think. Just behind you, near the edge of the balcony, there’s a thick curtain tied to a decorative pillar. It’s more for style than privacy, but it’s big enough. Barely.

You slip behind it, dragging him with you. The heavy fabric closes in around you both. It’s dark. Cramped. His back hits the cold stone wall. You stop moving.

You’re close... Too close.

You’re pressed chest to chest, your leg between his. One of his arms is braced against the wall behind you, the other lightly around your waist. It’s the only way to not fall over.

Your breath hitches. His does too.

Neither of you speaks.

The couple is right there. Just on the other side. You hear their laughter, the low sound of a kiss. You should be paying attention. You should be lifting your camera, snapping the photo.

But your body is frozen. All your focus is on the heat of him, his hand, the closeness, his heartbeat that you can actually feel.

And then his hand moves. Slowly. Carefully.

He brushes your hair away from your cheek. His fingers are light, like he’s afraid to push too hard. They trail along your skin, and then he tucks the loose strand gently behind your ear.

You look up. His eyes are already on yours.

There’s no teasing in them now. No smirk. Just quiet. Warmth. Something deeper.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but the words vanish.

Outside, your target laughs again. The mistress pulls him inside. The moment is over.

You stay still a second longer. Neither of you speaks.

Then, very softly, Sabo says, “We’re going to have to talk about that later.”

And all you can manage is a whispered, “Shut up.”

You finally lift your camera. Your hands are steady, like always, even if your heart still isn’t.

The cheating man is kissing his mistress again, pressed up against the glass inside the room. They think they’re alone.

Perfect.

Three shots. Clear enough to ruin a marriage.

You lower the camera, your voice low “Got it. Time to go.”

Sabo doesn’t say a word, just follows you again like a shadow.

You grab the edge of the balcony, throw one leg over, and jump down like you’ve done a thousand times.

Except you forgot you’re wearing heels.

Your ankle bends awkwardly and pain shoots up your leg as your foot hits the ground. You hiss, stumbling slightly.

“Fucking heels...” you mutter, already yanking them off. One in each hand, and then you throw them down the alley without a second thought.

Behind you, Sabo lands light as a feather.

He watches the scene. Your bare feet. Your scowl. The heels lying sad and broken in the dark.

Then, his voice “Jump on my back.”

You glance at him “What?”

He shrugs casually “I’ll carry you. Don’t want you walking barefoot.”

You blink “You serious?”

He gives you that soft little half-smile “Completely.”

You snort “Nah. I’m good… but thanks for the offer, Blondie.”

And with that, you turn around and walk ahead. Not looking back. Definitely not letting him see the way your face is burning.

Behind you, he watches every step. And he’s smiling.

Not because you turned him down. But because you didn’t hesitate to throw away those fancy shoes. Because you didn’t care about being graceful or anything. Because you didn’t mind walking barefoot in a dirty alley if it meant freedom.

Because you’re real. And damn... he really, really likes that.

The alley behind you is gone now. Just stone paths and quiet shadows.

You’re walking through a garden, the party mansion behind. The only light coming from the stars above and the soft glow of lanterns hidden among the trees.

It’s quiet. Too quiet.

You want to say goodbye. You always do after a job. Clean cut, no mess, no feelings. But your steps slow. You don’t want to walk away just yet. Not this time.

You stop near a small fountain. The sound of water trickling fills the silence between you.

You cross your arms, not facing him “So… I was your mission, mh?”

Sabo stands beside you, close but not touching.

You glance at him “Well… mission completed. You’re free to leave.”

He tilts his head slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips “So are you.”

You breathe in slowly.

“But here we are,” he adds softly “Still.”

You stare at the fountain “Still.”

The word hangs there like fog.

You swallow and finally look at him “You could’ve gone without telling me anything. But you didn’t. You came back. Why?”

“I told you,” he says, voice lower now “I wanted to explain. I didn’t like disappearing like that. You deserved more than that.”

You shake your head slowly “I don’t need people to explain themselves to me. I’m not—”

“Yeah,” he cuts in gently “But maybe I wanted to explain. Because I missed you.”

The words stop you.

You stare at him.

He says it so simply. Like it’s just a fact. Like saying it might rain tomorrow. Like I missed you isn’t a damn earthquake in your chest.

You try to scoff. Try to play it off “That’s very dramatic, Blondie.”

He chuckles “I learned from the best.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t move away. You don’t leave.

You’re still standing beside him. Under the stars. Just… there.

And he is too.

...Still.

The silence stretches. The fountain bubbles softly. Somewhere far off, the music from the party fades into the trees.

You glance at him. He’s looking at the stars now, like they might give him something to say.

You speak first “So, what now?”

He shrugs “I don’t know. I didn’t really plan past this.”

You snort “Bad planning for a Revolutionary, don’t you think?”

He smiles “I figured I’d improvise. Depends on what you do next.”

You don’t answer. Your eyes fall to the path in front of you. The wind moves through the leaves, cool against your skin.

You hate this.

The quiet. The part of you that doesn’t want to walk away.

You cross your arms, trying to sound casual “Well, if you missed me that much, maybe next time you disappear, leave a note. ‘Gone off to recover lost memories and beat up powerful enemies, back soon’. Something like that.”

He laughs “You’d burn the note.”

You smile despite yourself “Probably.”

Then the quiet slips back in. He turns toward you again. You feel it before you see it. His eyes on you. That look you’re starting to know too well. Like he sees something in you you’re not ready to admit is there.

And yet…

“I kept thinking,” he says quietly, “how many jobs you’ve taken since I left. How many stupid people you had to spy on, how many lies you had to fake-smile through. I wondered if you ever thought about me.”

You open your mouth. Then close it.

He doesn’t push. Just keeps watching you with that calm, steady warmth.

You scoff lightly, more to break the moment than because anything’s funny “Don’t flatter yourself. I was too busy following cheating husbands and hiding in bushes.”

But your voice is soft. Not sharp. Not convincing.

He leans slightly closer. Not touching. Just near “So… not even a little?”

You meet his gaze. You want to lie. You always lie. That’s your job.

But instead you say “Maybe once.”

A pause “Or twice.”

Another pause “Something like that.”

He smiles “Good. Because I thought about you more than that.”

Your chest tightens and you quickly look away “You should go before I punch you for saying things like that.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” he murmurs.

You both laugh quietly.

Still not touching. Still not fully confessing.

But the air between you hums with something neither of you wants to name... Not yet.

And so you stand there a little longer. Under the stars. In the garden... Still.

You feel the weight of his words still in your chest. You have to shake it off. Do something, say something, or you’ll start thinking too much. Feeling too much.

So, you clear your throat and nudge his arm with your elbow “Hey… got any more fire tricks? Something cool. Or funny?”

Sabo blinks. Then a smirk tugs at his lips “You want a show?”

You roll your eyes “Don’t make it weird. Just entertain me, Blondie.”

He chuckles, stepping back a little “Alright, alright. Watch this.”

He lifts one hand. With a little flick of his wrist, a small flame spins into life at the tip of his finger, then flickers out and reappears in the other hand, like a magician’s coin. Then he makes a little fire butterfly, letting it flap its glowing wings before it floats up and fades into sparks.

You stare. Eyes wide. Mouth parted just slightly. Like a kid at their first festival.

You step closer, enchanted “And it doesn’t burn you?”

Without thinking, you reach out, your fingers heading straight for the flame still flickering in his palm.

“Wait—!”

He quickly closes his hand, putting the fire out in an instant. But it’s too late. You brushed against the edge of it.

He grabs your hand fast, holding it tight in both of his.

His brows furrow “Did it burn you?” he asks, voice sharp with worry “Let me see.”

You blink at your hand... your hand, which is now in his hands, and for a second you completely forget what you were even doing.

His touch is warm, gentle. He’s checking your fingers, your palm, his thumb brushing softly over your skin. Too carefully. Too tender.

You finally come back to your senses. Your heart stumbles in your chest.

You yank your hand away like it’s him that’s burning “I’m fine. Jeez.”

He blinks, stunned “I just—”

“I should go,” you say, voice too fast. Too high “Client’s waiting. Gotta report. You know, job stuff.”

He opens his mouth, probably to ask something, maybe to stop you. But then he just closes it again. His eyes follow you as you take a few quick steps back, avoiding his gaze, his hand, everything.

He doesn’t say a word.

He doesn’t chase.

Because he’s still there, stunned…

…realizing how fast his heart is beating, looking at his hands who were just holding yours.

You’ve been pacing the hallway for ten minutes now. Not because the job is hard... hell, you’ve done harder with a broken rib and a broken heel. But because you know he’ll show up.

He always does.

You’re even dressed for it. A sleek outfit, long coat, subtle daggers tucked under your sleeves. Not that he notices things like that.

Except he does. And that’s the problem.

You sigh, adjusting your collar. You’re here to spy on a nobleman, catch him trading information to pirates. But all your attention is pointed toward the nearest door like some lovesick idiot.

Which you are not.

“You really should stop standing in front of open doors.” comes the voice you’ve been trying not to expect.

You spin around, already scowling “Blondie.”

He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, smug grin in place “Miss me?”

You scoff “Like I miss being shot at.”

He straightens and walks toward you, looking way too casual for someone who just broke into a mansion “So... how many missions have you almost ruined since I last saw you?”

“I don’t ruin missions,” you snap “I finish them. Unlike some people.”

“Oh right, because hiding in a curtain last time was definitely the plan.”

“That was your fault! If you hadn’t distracted me with your stupid compliments.”

“You’re really bringing that up?”

“Yes! Because it’s your fault!”

He smirks “If I remember correctly, you were the one blushing.”

You point a sharp, gloved finger at him “That was heatstroke.”

He raises a brow “At night?”

You flinch. Damn. Walked right into that one. But you don’t answer. You storm past him toward the second hallway where your target is supposed to appear. He follows, like always, humming under his breath.

“Seriously,” you say, trying to focus “Why are you even here? This isn’t a Revolutionary job.”

“You’re here.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“It’s the only one that matters.”

You stop walking “You’re impossible.”

He grins “And you’re blushing again.”

You shove past him without another word.

Somehow, you still manage to finish the mission. You get your intel, threaten a butler, blackmail a merchant, and grab your proof. As you head out, Sabo falls into step beside you like this is routine. Like you always leave places like this together.

“Hey.” he says suddenly, and your stomach drops because of his tone, like he’s about to say something real. Something important.

You don’t like that.

“My brother’s in town. Wanna come meet him?”

You blink “Luffy?”

He nods, too casual.

You cross your arms “I don’t do dinner with strangers.”

“He’s not a stranger. He’s Luffy.”

“That’s literally the definition of a stranger to me.”

But he takes your hand.

Your brain short-circuits.

“What are you doing?” you snap, looking down at your entwined fingers.

“Holding your hand. You seem like the type to run.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

“You’re not pulling away...” he says, almost amused.

“…I’m tired.” you lie.

“You’re not even trying anymore.” he says with a laugh, already pulling you toward the docks.

You don’t pull away. Not even once.

The Thousand Sunny is louder than expected. Lanterns swing gently from ropes. Someone’s playing music. Someone else is screaming about meat. The Straw Hat crew is mid-party and you don’t even want to ask why.

Luffy’s the first one to spot you. He runs over barefoot, grinning so hard it almost hurts to look at him.

“Oi, Sabo!!” he shouts “Who’s she?”

You already step slightly behind Sabo, not used to this kind of attention. Not used to people looking at you like you matter.

Sabo rests a hand on your back again. Gentle. Warm.

“This is Detective Y/N,” he says proudly “Soon to be a Revolutionary.”

Your jaw drops “Oi! Blondie! How many times do I have to say no?!”

Before he can reply, Luffy tilts his head, blinking at the both of you “So is this your girlfriend?”

You and Sabo both freeze like someone just tossed a grenade between you.

“What?!” you shout, face burning “NO!”

“LUFFY!” Sabo snaps, just as red.

Luffy shrugs “You were holding hands and stuff.”

“We—! I—!” You throw your hands in the air “That was not—”

“Don’t act like you didn’t want to come.” Sabo hisses.

“You invited me!”

“You didn’t say no!”

“You didn’t let me!”

Zoro, watching from the side, mutters to Sanji, “How long you think before they kiss or kill each other?”

Sanji smirks “I’m betting both.”

You cross your arms and glare at Sabo, still blushing. He rubs the back of his neck, awkwardly looking away, but the edge of a smile is tugging at his lips.

Neither of you corrects Luffy.

Neither of you denies it again.

And your hand still feels warm where his was.

You clear your throat, trying to reset your brain “So,” you say, turning to Luffy as casually as possible “You’ve known Blondie since he was little, right?”

Sabo shoots you a look “No. Don’t even—”

You ignore him “Got any embarrassing stories?”

Luffy lights up like a lantern “OH YEAH! There was this one time, he—”

“Nope!” Sabo says quickly, cutting him off with the speed of someone panicking. He grabs your wrist gently... always gently... and pulls you a step back “We actually came just to say hi.”

You blink “We did?”

“We’re leaving now, I planned something.” he says firmly, already starting to walk.

You don’t fight it, but you are confused “Why? What do you have planned?”

Before he can answer, Luffy shouts after you, mouth full of meat, “Are you two going on a date?!”

You freeze.

Sabo stops mid-step.

Sanji drops a tray.

You’re standing there, Sabo still holding your wrist, and you feel your heart slam in your chest.

Sabo turns slowly, managing a calm expression “No.”

You, on the other hand, are red again “Obviously not!”

“Sure looks like it,” Luffy says, grinning wide “You guys were holding hands again.”

“HIS FAULT... FOR BALANCE.” you shout, instantly regretting how defensive you sound.

Sabo mutters under his breath, “Not very balanced now, are we.”

You elbow him. He smirks.

Robin chuckles behind her book “Young love is so… chaotic.”

You cover your face “We’re not—”

But Sabo’s hand slides down your wrist and links your fingers with his.

You glance at him, startled.

He doesn’t look at you, just tugs you toward the edge of the ship “Come on, Detective. I do have something planned.”

You don’t say anything for a second. You just stare at your joined hands.

Then, quietly, you mutter, “It better not be a date.”

He finally looks at you with that maddening half-smile “What if it is?”

You hate that your heart skips. You really hate that you don’t have a snappy comeback this time.

He walks beside you in silence, hand still in yours.

You should pull away... You really should.

But the warmth of his grip is like something you didn’t know you missed. And the way his thumb brushes against your knuckles as you cross into town makes you forget, moment by moment, that you’re supposed to be good at keeping people out.

You frown “This doesn’t look like a hideout.”

“It’s not.” he says, almost too casually.

You glance around, brows furrowing. You're not far from the city square now, where lamplight spills soft gold. Music plays in the distance, a quiet violin, and the smell of grilled food drifts from the open-air restaurants lining the plaza.

He leads you toward one of them. A quiet place tucked between ivy-covered walls, glowing with soft lanterns. It’s... cozy. Intimate.

You stop in your tracks.

“Do you have a mission here?” you ask, suspicious “You needed me for something?”

He doesn’t meet your eyes “…No.”

You blink “Then why?”

“I wanted to take you out.”

Your breath catches.

He finally looks at you, and his cheeks are dusted with red. And suddenly, you’re blushing. Hard.

Your heart kicks against your ribs like it’s trying to claw its way out “I’m...” You glance down at yourself, then back at him “I’m not dressed for this. I didn’t even shower after the mission, I—I smell right now, probably.”

His eyes widen. Not at your panic, but because you’re not saying no.

You’re... making excuses.

His lips twitch, almost smiling, but there’s something soft under it too. Hopeful. Careful. “If you feel uncomfortable, we can come back another time.”

You hesitate.

You could take that way out. He’d let you go. But you don’t want to run. Not tonight.

So instead, you tighten your fingers around his. Not much. Just enough to tell him you’re still here. And then you meet his eyes.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” you say, voice quieter than usual “Somewhere less... fancy. Should we?”

He looks stunned for a second. Then a smile softens his whole face.

“Yeah,” he says, squeezing your hand back “We should.”

You’re walking side by side through the old part of town, the kind of place with cobbled streets and small lanterns flickering in shop windows. There's no mission, no lie to keep up, no identity to steal—just you, him, and this weird silence that’s more peaceful than awkward.

You chew slowly on a skewer from a food stall, the oil still warm on your lips. Sabo is next to you, carrying a second portion he insisted you try.

He walks close enough that your shoulder brushes his every few steps. You don’t move away.

And just when the warmth in your chest starts to feel dangerous, when you're thinking maybe the food's not the only thing softening you, he speaks.

"By the way… earlier."

You glance sideways at him “What about earlier?”

His gaze is ahead, not on you. His voice is careful, but not cold.

“I just… I wanted to say…”

You stop chewing. The pause is long.

He exhales like he's regretting even bringing it up, then blurts “You actually smell good right now.”

You freeze mid-step. Did he just...

“I mean...” he fumbles, ears turning so red it's almost funny, “...not like I was trying to notice that. Or, I mean... I did notice it. Not in a weird way, just...”

You stare at him. He won’t look at you.

“And you're beautiful,” he says, a little quieter, like the words hurt to say out loud “No matter what you wear.”

Your heart slams against your ribs so hard it echoes in your ears. You don’t breathe for a second.

Beautiful.

You blink once. Twice. Your voice is caught somewhere in your throat.

He's still not looking at you. Maybe he thinks if he doesn’t see your face, it won’t sting so much when you laugh it off. But you don't laugh.

You take a small breath and then you say, softly, “I’m sorry, Sabo.”

His head jerks toward you. Eyes wide.

It's the name. You never use it. He notices instantly.

You take a slow step closer to him.

“I’m not good at this...” you say again, quieter now. Like a confession.

Your hand lifts almost on instinct, your fingers brushing against his cheek before your palm rests fully there. The contact is warm, real. His skin is soft, just like you thought it’d be.

He doesn’t move.

Your other hand rises to his face too, like gravity’s pulling you in. His breath catches. His lips part but he doesn’t speak.

And before he can try you lean in.

Your lips touch his.

Just once.

Soft.

Quick.

A heartbeat and it’s over.

But when you pull back, your hands are still holding his face. And his eyes are locked on you like you just flipped his entire world upside down.

He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t speak.

You’re about to say something stupid. Or apologize. Or maybe run away, like you always do. But then his fingers slowly lift.

They rise like he’s in a trance, brushing lightly over his own lips where you just kissed him. Like he’s trying to prove to himself that it actually happened. That you actually did that.

You watch him, unsure what to say, unsure if you've gone too far or not far enough. But you don’t move. You wait.

His eyes meet yours again, still wide, still stunned, but there’s something fragile and flickering and new now.

You see it before he can even say a word.

Hope.

He whispers your name like it means something sacred. And you feel your heart stutter again. But this time, you don’t run.

You let the silence stretch. Let the night fold around you. Let yourself breathe in the moment like it might disappear.

You kissed him. And you want to do it again.

Sabo’s still staring at you like you just knocked the wind out of him.

Then, all at once, a grin pulls at the corner of his mouth. Something soft, but surprised. A little breathless.

And then he speaks, his voice lower than before, unguarded.

“…Oh.”

You arch a brow “Oh?”

“You said you’re not good at this but you’re actually damn good,” he says, like it’s just occurred to him “You make me nervous.”

You blink. And then you laugh.

It slips out before you can stop it, a quiet breath of a sound, half smile and half disbelief. You shake your head, grinning like he just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

“Nervous?” you repeat, tilting your head “You?”

He shrugs helplessly, like he’s trying to pretend this isn’t a big deal while looking very much like a man whose heart is hanging off a wire “Yeah.”

You watch him for a beat, heart still beating way too fast for comfort. Then you nudge his arm lightly with yours.

“So, Blondie…” you murmur, a little smirk tugging your lips now “What do we do from now on? How does this work?”

He exhales slowly, looking at you sideways “Depends. Are you going to disappear again the second I blink?”

You scoff “You’re the one who vanished for months.”

He doesn’t argue.

You go on “I still won’t accept your offer, you know. I’m staying a detective. Better pay, more drama, less running around screaming about justice or whatever.”

That makes him laugh, and god it’s nice hearing him laugh like that, light, real, warm. Like this version of him exists only for you.

He leans his shoulder into yours a little “I don’t even care anymore.”

You glance at him “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, eating the last bite of his skewer “You’re always working with me anyway. We just keep bumping into each other mid-job. Revolution or not, we’re already a team.”

That earns another smile from you, though you roll your eyes “Ugh, don’t say it like that.”

He grins wider.

And then, softer “Say it again?”

You blink “Say what?”

“My name.”

You pause.

You know exactly what he’s asking for.

Your lips curve slowly. You fake a thoughtful expression, tapping your chin “…Blondie?”

He pouts. Full-on, eyes-narrowed, almost-childish pout.

You laugh again, a little too fond, a little too fast.

“Okay, okay—” you cave, pushing his arm gently.

You lean a little closer, voice playful but real.

“Flame Emperor Sabo.”

That makes his whole expression shift, his eyes widening a bit, like that title coming from your mouth short-circuits his brain. You say it like it’s not just a title, not just a name the world gave him. You say it like you know exactly who he is beneath it, and you still say it anyway.

He’s silent for a beat too long, lips parting like he forgot how to breathe.

You blink “Now stop acting like a baby.”

His mouth quirks into a smirk again, but there’s a faint blush under his eyes that he absolutely cannot hide.

“You’re dangerous” he mutters.

“Me?”

He nods, licking his bottom lip absently “Yeah. You don’t even realize it, do you?”

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing clever comes out. So you close it again.

He grins.

And the stars above keep burning. Just like the slow, steady fire growing between you.

The mission is simple. In theory.

Infiltrate a noble’s estate. Steal a sealed document before it gets shipped to the World Government. No casualties, no noise, no slipping up.

Simple.

Except nothing is simple when he’s with you.

Sabo walks beside you through the bustling garden party, dressed in dark formal wear that somehow makes him look more like royalty than a rebel. His hair is slicked back tonight, but one stubborn curl keeps falling in front of his eyes. You hate how much you keep noticing it.

“I told you we should’ve entered from the east wing...” you whisper through your teeth, smiling like a polite guest while your eyes scan the crowd.

He leans close, smirking “And I told you the west entrance had the least guards. What’s your plan, detective, run in heels again and scream ‘I told you so’ if we get caught?”

You don’t look at him but you can feel the smirk.

“I swear,” you hiss, “if this mission goes wrong, I’m blaming your giant ego and that dumb little curl on your forehead.”

He chuckles low “You like that dumb little curl. You looked at it twenty times already.”

You turn your head fast “You counted?”

He leans even closer, lips almost brushing your ear “You’re blushing.”

“I will punch you.”

“You’ll have to catch me first.”

And there it is again, that tension. That crackling space between you that’s always been charged, but now it’s like standing next to a fire and pretending you’re not melting.

Your heart beats a little faster as you both slip away from the crowd toward the private halls.

Inside, it’s quieter. Just soft footsteps and faint music echoing from the ballroom.

You’re meant to stay focused. There’s a vault. A document. A ticking clock.

But Sabo walks behind you with his hand ghosting near your back, and it’s suddenly hard to remember the full plan.

“You’ve been quiet” he says softly.

“I’m trying to think.”

“Mm. Dangerous.”

You stop walking. Turn around.

He nearly bumps into you, he’s that close. His breath catches.

You narrow your eyes “We’re in the middle of a mission, Flame Emperor. Don’t start.”

He lifts both hands like he’s innocent “I’m not doing anything. You’re the one who stopped.”

“I stopped because you were breathing down my neck.”

“You know what? I still can’t believe you kissed me first.”

You scowl “You want me to regret that?”

He smiles, cocky and soft all at once “Do you?”

You stare at him.

He stares back.

The moment hangs.

Heavy.

Then your gaze flickers to his mouth.

His does the same.

And like magnet to spark, you crash forward and kiss him.

Again.

Your hands grab the collar of his coat. His arm instantly slips around your waist, pulling you in, mouth hot and insistent. You kiss like it’s an argument neither of you want to win, messy, fast, like you’re both annoyed at how much you want this.

And damn it, you do.

You bite his lip lightly and he groans into your mouth, deep and low. His fingers tighten at your hip. One of your legs slides between his and you’re just about to press him up against the wall when...

“Focus,” he pants, breaking away just enough to whisper against your lips “Document. Vault. Revolution. Remember?”

You blink “…Right.”

You both take a deep breath.

He adjusts his cravat like kissing you hasn’t just fried his brain. You smooth your dress, refusing to look flustered.

“I hate how good you are at kissing” you mutter.

“I love how bad you are at staying focused” he grins.

You glare.

He winks.

And just like that, the tension resets, but it lingers in every step. Every glance. Every time your hands brush, or you lean a little too close to whisper, or he rests a palm low on your back to guide you around a corner like a gentleman with very impure thoughts.

But neither of you mess up.

The vault? Opened.

The document? Secured.

The guards? Unaware.

You slip out the west gate under cover of darkness, walking side by side through the city like two shadows.

Job done. Hearts racing.

And even though you don’t say it out loud, you both know you’re not just partners anymore.

You’re a storm.

And this is only the beginning.

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Billy Hargrove was an insufferable asshole.

An insufferable asshole who somehow made his way into the party by conveniently stumbling into a demogorgon attack. And then putting said demogorgon down with a swift punch to the face-thing followed by a swing from Steve’s spiked baseball bat.

Now you found yourself in the tunnels with him, having been paired with him while Steve went with the kids. “Billy will keep you safe,” Steve had said. Yeah, safe and irritated.

“This is some crazy shit,” Billy commented, moving vines and other blockages out of the way easily with his thick, strong arms.

“Yeah,” you rolled your eyes. 

“You guys have been dealing with this since last year?”

“We thought it was over,” you explained. “Until weird things started up again.”

Billy nodded. You entered a part of the tunnel that had a bunch of tiny particles floating around. You didn’t think much of it, besides the passing thought that maybe you should have worn a mask of some kind. Who knows what you’re breathing in?

Billy kicked a vine on the ground. “This is stupid. We’re not getting anywhere. We should just meet back up with the rest-“

Your brain went fuzzy, and so did his. You wiped at your face, as if trying to rid your body of the particles, but you’d already breathed plenty of them in. Your body tingled, nerve endings coming alive. You could feel your nipples hardening, wetness between your legs.

You looked at Billy. He was looking at you like he’d never looked at you before, breathing heavily. His hands were clenched into fists, opening and closing like he was trying to control himself. You never realized how handsome he was - how hot and strong and sexy.

What the fuck were you thinking?

That was the tiniest sliver of a thought in the back of your mind. Your brain was consumed with thoughts of Billy, what it would be like to kiss him, to feel him inside of you. You’d never thought about Billy in that way before. You hated him.

Billy was looking at you in that strange way, something swimming behind his blue eyes. Suddenly he came stomping over to you, grabbing you by the arm. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Don’t touch me,” you protested weakly, but you let him lead you through the tunnels, stumbling over the twisting vines on the floor. When he found an exit in the ceiling of the tunnel he jumped up, pulling himself out. He reached down and held out an arm for you. You took it, and he pulled you up with ease. Goddamn.

You brushed your clothes off, Billy coughing in his attempt to breathe in fresh air. You had breathed in something down there, and it scared you. You could feel it throughout your bloodstream, your nerve endings. You felt changed.

Billy was still watching you. His chest was heaving with his breaths, sweat beading on his tanned skin. You were standing in a field, no light besides the moon and stars. His red shirt was half unbuttoned, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He took a step towards you.

The person behind those eyes didn’t look like Billy. He was staring at you so intently, fire in his gaze. He said your name, his voice a low growl. The sound of it went straight to your core, pussy clenching around nothing.

“I don’t…” Billy began, stopping to swallow, trying to compose himself. “Something is happening.”

It was happening to you, too. Something you’d never experienced before, an all encompassing desire for Billy, to take you in any way as long as you could have him.

He stalked towards you until he was standing directly in front of you. You could feel the electricity from his body, and you wondered if he could feel the same from you.

“Do you want me as bad as I want you right now?” he asked, his voice low.

“Yes,” you said before you could even think about it. It was the truth. Your whole body craved him.

“If I touch you,” he said, “I’m not gonna be able to stop myself.”

“Touch me,” you begged, your voice nothing but a whisper of a breath. “Please.”

Billy grabbed you by the hips, pulling you into him. His lips crashed into yours and his tongue forced its way into your mouth, his hands immediately working your jeans open.

“Billy-“ Some part of you was still there, still holding onto some sense of sanity. But Billy must have gotten a bigger dose, because he was gone, the man replaced by feral desire. “We can’t here-“

“Yes we can,” he grunted, pulling your jeans down your legs. You looked around, as if anyone would see you. Billy pulled you down to the hard ground and climbed on top of you with his heavy body, his thick thigh slotting between your legs and pressing against your wet pussy through your panties.

“I can feel how bad you want it,” he growled. “Have you always wanted me this bad?”

“No,” you answered firmly. “I think you’re a fucking dick.”

That made Billy chuckle as he opened his own belt, quickly opening his jeans and shoving them down his thighs. He grabbed the hem of your shirt and roughly pushed it up, exposing your tits.

“No bra?” he teased. “That’s fuckin’ slutty.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled half heartedly, warmth pooling in your stomach as you rubbed yourself down against his thigh. Your clit was throbbing, every movement against his leg building that heat.

Billy pulled his shirt the rest of the way off, tossing it off to the side. His muscled chest glistened with sweat in the night, defining every ridge and curve of his abs and chest. You were touching him before you realized what you were doing, hands rubbing over his skin as you moaned.

Billy groaned, his hips involuntarily snapping against you, desperate for some friction on his cock. “Fuck. I can’t…shit-“

Billy ripped your panties off, completely in half. You stared at him, your jaw dropped - “I just got those!”

“I don’t give a fuck, princess,” Billy said, pushing your thighs apart. He spit onto your pussy, watching it drip down to your hole. “I’m going to fuck this little pussy so hard.”

Billy pressed his cockhead against your entrance, and a second later he was fully inside you with a loud, animalistic groan. He didn’t give you a chance to adjust, just began rutting his hips into you frantically with the intensity and power of a desperate man. He was grunting in your ear, his hot breath on your cheek.

“Billy!” you cried out, your jaw dropped open as he fucked into you harder than you’d ever experienced. His hips were slamming into you, making a loud noise with every thrust, and he was taking your breath away with how deep inside you he was.

“Fuck- fuck-“ Billy breathed. “Fuckin’- shit, holy fuck-“

The reality of the situation broke through the haze in your brain, making you realize where you were, what you were doing and who it was with. You pushed on Billy’s chest, attempting to push his heavy body off of you. “Billy, w-wait, we can’t-“

Billy grabbed your arms with one of his hands, pinning them above your head. You watched him wide eyed as he looked deep into your eyes, continuing to fuck into you without missing a beat. “No,” he said. “I can’t, I…I can’t stop.” He leaned his head down and bit at your neck. “I won’t fucking stop.”

You had never felt your body come alive like this, never had sex that felt so incredible. As wrong as you knew it was, as much as you wanted to push him off you and knee him in the balls, you couldn’t think straight with how good he was making you feel. It was like you could feel his cock in every part of your body.

“You…are…so…fucking…tight,” Billy spat out through clenched teeth, sweat dripping down his brow. The muscles in his chest and neck were tensing, like he was getting close. Or it just felt that good.

“Billy,” you said weakly, the last bit of protest leaving your body. “Please.”

“Please what?” he asked. “Fuck your greedy little cunt harder?”

You whimpered, the pleasure overtaking any questions in your mind. You looked up at the night sky, the stars twinkling above you, totally unaware of the depravity occurring below. The only sound in the lonely field Billy’s feral grunts and groans, the sounds of his skin meeting yours, your body being pushed against the grass beneath your back.

Billy’s eyes were glazed over, a darkness overcoming them. He was nipping and biting at your tits, leaving marks everywhere he could. He wasn’t convinced you didn’t have a thing with Steve, and he wanted to make sure anyone who saw knew you’d been fucked.

Despite yourself, you felt your orgasm approaching, creeping up on you like a tidal wave. You were gasping for air beneath Billy’s oppressive weight, trying to free your hands, but he had you pinned tightly. Something about it only brought your release faster, and then you were cumming, pussy clenching around Billy’s dick and sending him absolutely wild.

“Billy! Oh god, Billy, fuck!”

“Fuck…shit…holy shit…” Billy was panting, his noises turning to pleasured moans - he was definitely reaching his peak now, and fast. “I’ve never felt a pussy this good in my life. Gonna fill her up so good.”

“You have to pull out,” you said, some semblance of rationality coming back to you. You could not let Billy Hargrove finish inside you, no way.

“Fuck that,” he breathed, his hips going impossibly faster, jackhammering into you until your pussy was sore and aching. “I’m filling this little cunt up.”

“Billy, seriously-“

“But she wants it, baby,” he cooed. “See how she’s pullin’ me in? She’s so desperate. Gonna give her what she needs.”

You went to protest again, but then he was kissing you again, his tongue in your mouth, and he let go of your hands, grabbing onto your thighs and spreading them wide.

“Fuck. Fuck! Fuck!” Billy thrusted hard into you, burying himself deep in your cunt as he filled it with his load just like he promised. He was shaking, like he’d never cum so hard in his life, the hottest, most pathetic moans coming from Billy Hargrove’s mouth.

There was nothing left to pump into you, but Billy stayed deep inside, holding you close to his body, still shaking. “Christ,” he breathed. “I’ve never…”

He didn’t finish his thought. He pulled out of you, his seed dripping from your pussy and down your ass. He stared, committing the sight to memory.

With his release came clarity. Billy pulled his jeans back up and sat down onto the ground, pulling a cigarette from his pocket with shaking hands. “I don’t…I don’t know what that was about. I’m sorry.”

You felt pretty embarrassed having this conversation in the state you were in. You pulled your shirt down, putting your jeans back on, the remains of your favorite panties shoved into your pocket to throw away somewhere else. “I don’t know what happened either.”

“It’s like…” Billy took a drag on his cigarette. “Something down there- it was fucked up. I don’t know what we touched or breathed or whatever, but goddamn. I couldn’t think about anything else besides getting inside of you.”

You blushed at his brash words, even though he’d just been saying much filthier things. It was like you had both woken up from a dream - a very horny dream.

“I wanted it,” you said. “I couldn’t think about anything besides your cock.”

Billy smirked. “Don’t worry. That’s common.”

You kicked him, and he laughed. “You’re a fucking pig.”

“Guys!”

You and Billy both turned at the sound, seeing Steve walking towards you with a flashlight, the kids behind him. “You guys okay?” he asked when they reached you. Then - “Billy, where’s your shirt?”

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