#I drive myself the most insane out of anything | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jupiterpilgrim · 1 month ago

Text

Right to Use

Wonyoung x Seulgi x Irene x Ningning x Male Reader

word count: 11K

commissioned fic

The airport is chaos. Fans scream, flashbulbs pop, bodies press against barriers, and you’re the immovable force that keeps Wonyoung and the rest of IVE untouchable. Your black suit stretches over your frame, custom-tailored to accommodate your towering height and sheer size. Even your presence alone is enough to make people think twice about stepping out of line. But today, none of that really matters because Wonyoung, fresh off a tour, is the epicenter of it all, and you're not even sure she realizes how effortlessly she commands attention.

She’s dressed in a deceptively casual outfit that still looks like it was made to drive people insane. A cropped hoodie, pale pink, with the hem cut just above her slim waist, showing off the flawless skin of her toned stomach. High-waisted, ripped skinny jeans hug her legs, emphasizing the length and subtle curve of her thighs. On her feet, white sneakers—clean, of course. Wonyoung doesn’t do anything halfway, not even casualwear. Her long, dark hair cascades over her shoulders, catching the airport lights like silk. Sunglasses cover most of her face, but not the smirk playing on her lips, subtle enough for everyone but you to miss.

The other members follow close behind, but the crowd noise isn’t quite the same for them. Wonyoung, as usual, owns the moment. She’s radiant, untouchable. But then, of course, her attention cuts through the chaos and lands on you. She doesn’t even need to say a word. A flick of her wrist, a sly grin—you know she’s up to something.

The group splits into vehicles after the airport chaos. The plan, as always, is to keep things orderly. Most of the group piles into a sleek black van, a fortress of tinted glass and soundproof insulation. Wonyoung is supposed to ride in her private car, a glossy white Benz with plush leather interiors, a driver at the ready. You’re assigned to the main group, of course, although your priority is actually Wonyoung, you have to pretend in front of the cameras that your work is dedicated to the whole group. But as you move toward your designated car, her voice—clear, sweet, unmistakably commanding—cuts through the air.

“Oppa. Come here.”

She’s leaning against the door of her Benz, her sunglasses lowered just enough to reveal her big, doll-like eyes. They flicker with mischief.

You hesitate. Rules are rules, and being in the same vehicle with her is pushing boundaries that you’re not supposed to cross, even for someone like her. “Ms. Jang,” you start, but she cuts you off with a tilt of her head and a raised eyebrow.

“Do I have to repeat myself?”

The way she says it isn’t loud, but it’s got that edge, that bratty little tone that says she knows exactly how much control she has over you—and she enjoys it.

Reluctantly, you move toward her car, sliding into the front passenger seat as the door shuts behind you. The air inside the vehicle feels different the moment you’re in it, charged, almost electric. The driver glances at you in the rearview mirror but doesn’t say anything; he knows better.

Wonyoung sits in the backseat, legs crossed, her phone in her lap. She doesn’t say much at first, just glances at you every so often, her lips curled into the smallest of smiles. You can feel her eyes on you, even when you’re not looking. It’s unnerving, the way she toys with you without even saying a word.

The city blurs by outside, neon signs and skyscrapers flashing through the tinted windows. She stretches her legs out lazily, her sneakers brushing against the back of your seat. “You’re quiet,” she says finally, her voice soft but teasing. “Something on your mind?”

“No,” you reply quickly, but you don’t look back at her. You can feel her smirking again.

“You’re a bad liar, oppa.”

The rest of the ride is tense, her presence looming behind you like a shadow. You’ve worked for her long enough to know when she’s scheming something, and tonight she’s practically radiating trouble. By the time you arrive at her apartment building, you’re desperate to put some distance between the two of you.

The car rolls to a stop in the underground garage, and you open the door, stepping out quickly. “Goodnight, Ms. Jang,” you say, keeping your tone professional.

But before you can turn to leave, you feel her hand on your arm. Her grip is surprisingly firm for someone so delicate-looking.

“Come inside,” she says, her voice low but insistent.

You glance around, paranoid that someone might see the two of you together. “Ms. Jang, I don’t think that’s—”

“I wasn’t asking,” she interrupts, her eyes locking onto yours. There’s no room for argument in her tone.

“Someone might see us,” you hiss, still trying to keep some semblance of professionalism.

“And? Let them,” she says with a shrug. Her fingers curl around your wrist, and she tugs you toward the elevator. Her strength isn’t enough to move you, not really, but the way she looks at you—like she’s daring you to disobey—makes your resolve falter.

The elevator ride is silent, the tension between you growing thicker with every floor you ascend. She stands close to you, closer than she needs to, her arm brushing against yours. You can smell her perfume, something floral and expensive, and it only adds to the strange energy buzzing in the air.

When the elevator doors slide open, she steps out first, her sneakers making soft thuds against the polished floor. She doesn’t look back to see if you’re following—she knows you are.

Inside the penthouse, the apartment is exactly what you’d expect: sleek, modern, and outrageously expensive. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a breathtaking view of the city, the lights twinkling like a sea of stars. She kicks off her sneakers near the door and pads barefoot across the marble floor, leaving you standing awkwardly near the entrance.

“You can relax, you know,” she says, glancing over her shoulder at you. “It’s just us.”

“That’s kind of the problem,” you mutter under your breath, but she hears you.

She laughs—a soft, melodic sound that somehow makes you even more uneasy. “You’re funny, oppa.”

She moves to the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. As she drinks, her eyes stay on you, the corners of her mouth twitching like she’s trying not to smile. You can tell she’s enjoying this—making you squirm, testing your limits.

“Go take a shower,” she says.

You hesitate, standing there like an idiot, unsure if you’re supposed to argue or just do as you’re told. Before you can decide, she sets the water bottle down with a soft clink and starts walking toward you. Her bare feet make no sound on the polished floor.

She stops just inches away, close enough that you can see the faint sheen of sweat on her skin, the way her chest rises and falls with each breath.

“Why are you so tense?” she asks, her voice soft but laced with that familiar teasing edge. Her hand reaches out, her fingers brushing lightly against your chest, the touch so light it’s almost maddening.

You swallow hard, your throat dry. “I’m not—”

“Liar,” she interrupts, her lips curling into that bratty smirk you know too well. Her hand lingers, her fingertips tracing a slow, deliberate line down your sternum. “Relax, oppa. It’s just us.”

Just us.

Like that makes it any less overwhelming.

—

The steaming water cascades over your shoulders, washing away the tension from the chaotic day. You’d followed Wonyoung’s orders begrudgingly—obedience had become second nature—but something about her tone earlier, that little twist of mischief in her voice, left you uneasy.

The faint sound of a door opening makes you freeze mid-rinse. You tilt your head, water streaming down your face, straining to hear. Voices. Feminine, light laughter filtering through the penthouse. It’s not just Wonyoung’s voice.

You turn off the shower, tension coiling in your gut. "Just us." Yeah, you should have known she was lying. Your eyes dart to the bathroom corner, where your clothes are neatly laid out—your suit jacket, shirt, tie, underwear and pants. You grab the white button-down shirt first, the fabric still slightly damp from the steam, and quickly pull it on, leaving it unbuttoned at the top. The underwear comes next, and then finally the pants. You step into them hastily, not bothering with the belt as you fasten the button and zipper.

You adjust the shirt, the damp fabric clinging to your skin, then you take a deep breath before stepping out of the bathroom. The tension in your chest doesn’t ease, but you push it down, bracing yourself for whatever—or whoever—is waiting for you outside.

The moment you round the corner into the living room, you stop dead in your tracks.

Sitting on Wonyoung’s couch, perched like queens on a throne, are three women you’d recognize anywhere. Ning Yizhuo, Irene Bae, and Kang Seulgi.

You’ve seen them before, of course—on stages, on magazine covers, in advertisements plastered across half of Seoul.

They’re not dressed like idols here. Ning wears a skin-tight black crop top that shows off her toned stomach, paired with the shortest pair of denim shorts you’ve ever seen. Irene is in a silky red slip dress that hugs her curves and ends scandalously high on her thighs, the thin straps showing off her delicate shoulders. Seulgi leans back lazily in a sleek leather skirt and a sheer white blouse, the lacy black bra underneath making no effort to hide itself.

And they’re all staring at you.

For a moment, no one speaks. Ning is the first to break the silence, her dark eyes raking over you before she whistles low. “Wow. You weren’t kidding, Wonyoung. He’s massive.”

Irene tilts her head slightly, her lips curving into a small, intrigued smile. “He looks even taller in person.”

Seulgi arches an eyebrow, her gaze sweeping over you appraisingly. “And broader.”

Wonyoung, sitting cross-legged in an oversized chair to the side, looks thoroughly pleased with herself. She’s still in her airport outfit, but now her hoodie is off, leaving her in just the cropped tank top beneath. Her bare midriff gleams under the soft light, and her legs are folded neatly beneath her, the picture of bratty satisfaction.

“I told you, didn’t I?” she says, her tone dripping with pride. “Oppa’s huge. Almost 6 feet 7 inches tall. Taller than anyone else on staff. Stronger, too.”

The way she says it, casual and deliberate, makes your stomach tighten. The girls aren’t just looking at you—they’re devouring you with their eyes. Hungry doesn’t even begin to cover it.

You clear your throat, trying to ignore the heat crawling up your neck. “What’s going on here?” you ask, your voice firm but cautious.

Wonyoung smiles innocently, though there’s nothing innocent about the way her fingers drum against the arm of her chair. “I told the girls about you,” she says simply.

“Told them what?”

“That my parents hired you as my personal bodyguard and that you must fulfill every one of my wishes. In other words, I've told them that you're mine.” she replies, her tone playful but undeniably possessive. “But I don’t mind sharing. Sometimes.”

Irene’s smile widens slightly, and she leans forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “You’re hers, huh?” she says, her voice smooth and teasing. “That explains a lot.”

“Like what?” you snap.

“Like why she kept talking about how we had to meet you,” Ning chimes in. She crosses her legs, one foot swinging idly in the air as her eyes trace the line of your shoulders down to your chest. “I thought she was exaggerating. But now I get it.”

Seulgi smirks, leaning back into the couch with a casual grace. “So, what’s the plan, Wonyoung? I'm quite excited.”

Wonyoung’s grin turns wicked. She leans back in her chair, her head tilting to one side as she regards you with a glint in her eye. “Tonight,” she says, “we’re going to have fun. We'll use and abuse my hot beefcake."

Your instincts scream at you to leave, to shut this down before it spirals into something you can’t control. But Wonyoung is watching you, her expression daring you to refuse her. She’s always been good at getting what she wants, and tonight, it’s clear she’s not taking no for an answer.

Wonyoung doesn’t waste a second. “Alright, let’s go,” she says with a casual authority, waving the others toward the bedroom. She strides past you, but not before delivering a sharp slap to your ass.

“Keep up, oppa,” she teases, her tone dripping with mockery.

Behind her, the other girls burst into laughter, their voices mingling in a chorus of amusement and anticipation. Ning hides her smile behind her hand, Irene smirks knowingly, and Seulgi outright grins.

You trail behind them, heart hammering in your chest as the tension in the air thickens with every step. They lead you to Wonyoung’s bedroom—a sprawling, luxurious space dominated by an enormous bed with plush white linens. Soft, golden light spills from a modern chandelier above, casting everything in a warm glow.

Wonyoung sits you down on the edge of the bed, her hands firm on your shoulders as she climbs into your lap. Her weight is featherlight, but the way she looks at you—her lips curling into a bratty smile, her dark eyes glittering with mischief—feels impossibly heavy.

“Alright, girls,” she says, turning her head slightly to address the others. “You can get started.”

There’s no hesitation. Irene is the first to move, her hands reaching for the thin straps of her dress. The silky fabric slides down her shoulders and pools at her feet, revealing delicate lace lingerie that clings to her petite frame. She moves with practiced grace, her confidence radiating from every step she takes closer to you.

Seulgi is next, unbuttoning her sheer blouse with quick, eager fingers. Her bra—simple but black and striking—contrasts beautifully with her smooth skin. Her leather skirt follows, dropping to reveal toned legs and a curve to her hips that makes your mouth dry.

Ning hesitates, her fingers toying nervously with the hem of her crop top. She glances at Wonyoung, who gives her a reassuring smile, before finally pulling it off. Her shorts follow shortly after, leaving her in pastel underwear that’s almost as shy as her expression. But there’s a flicker of curiosity in her eyes, a quiet hunger that draws her closer, step by step.

You sit frozen at first, unsure of how to react, but your body betrays you. As the girls strip, you feel your cock stir to life, growing harder with each layer of clothing that hits the floor.

Wonyoung notices immediately. Her lips curve into a satisfied smirk, and she shifts slightly on your lap, her hips brushing against the bulge straining in your pants. “Enjoying the show, oppa?” she asks, her tone teasing but unmistakably smug.

You hesitate, the words catching in your throat, but finally, you nod. “…Yeah.”

She laughs softly, leaning in until her lips are inches from yours. “Good. Because tonight, we’re going to use you until we’re satisfied.”

Her words send a shiver down your spine, and before you can respond, her mouth captures yours in a kiss. Her lips are soft but demanding, and she tastes faintly of sweet lip balm and something darker, more intoxicating.

As Wonyoung deepens the kiss, you feel hands on your shoulders, your chest, your arms. The other girls are closing in, their fingers exploring your muscles, tracing the lines of your skin like they can’t believe you’re real.

Irene’s touch is the most deliberate, her fingers trailing over your chest with an almost clinical precision, like she’s cataloging every ridge and dip. Seulgi’s hands are bolder, sliding over your biceps and squeezing as she lets out a low whistle. “Holy shit,” she murmurs. “How are you this big?”

Ning is more hesitant, her fingers brushing lightly over your forearm before retreating, only to return moments later, bolder each time. She doesn’t say anything, but the way her eyes dart over you betrays her curiosity.

Wonyoung shifts on your lap again, grinding against you just enough to make you groan softly into her mouth. She pulls back, her lips glossy and swollen, and looks down between the two of you, where your cock is straining painfully against your pants.

Her grin widens. “Looks like oppa’s ready for the real fun to start.”

She stands, slipping off your lap with a grace that leaves you breathless, and gestures for the other girls to gather around. They drop to their knees without a word, their eyes fixed on you with a mix of hunger and anticipation.

Wonyoung steps between them, her hands deftly moving to the button of your pants. She looks up at you, her eyes sparkling with amusement and something far darker. “Let’s see what you’re working with.”

Wonyoung doesn’t hesitate, her fingers deftly working at the waistband of your pants, she tugs the fabric down over your hips with an unhurried precision, the smooth motion somehow making the moment feel even more intense.

When the material pools around your ankles, you’re left standing there in nothing but your underwear. The girls’ eyes drop immediately, zeroing in on the absurd bulge pressing against the thin, strained fabric.

“Holy shit,” Seulgi breathes out first, her voice almost a whisper. Her dark eyes are wide, and she leans forward slightly, like she’s trying to get a better angle.

“That’s insane,” Ning mutters, her jaw practically hanging open. She bites her bottom lip, eyes darting from Wonyoung to your crotch as though needing confirmation that this isn’t some kind of elaborate joke.

Irene, ever composed, lifts an eyebrow and tilts her head, her gaze locked on the outline of your cock. A small, knowing smile tugs at the corner of her lips as she murmurs, “Wonyoung, you didn’t tell us it was this impressive.”

Wonyoung doesn’t bother hiding her pride. Her lips curl into a smug, bratty grin as she looks up at you from her kneeling position. “Oh, I told you,” she says, her tone dripping with satisfaction. “You just didn’t believe me.”

Her fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear, her touch light but deliberate. She pauses for a split second, letting the anticipation build before pulling them down slowly, like she’s unwrapping the world’s most tempting gift.

And then, it’s out.

The room goes utterly silent, save for the faint rustling of fabric as Wonyoung tosses your underwear aside along with your pants. The girls are frozen, their eyes glued to your cock as it springs free, standing tall and impossibly hard. Thick veins trace its length, accentuating the sheer size of it, and the head is already glistening faintly with precum.

“Jesus Christ,” Ning finally manages to choke out, her voice full of awe and disbelief.

Seulgi doesn’t even try to hide her reaction, letting out a low whistle as her gaze sweeps over you. “No wonder she’s been keeping you all to herself. That’s… I don’t even have words.”

“A little above 12 inches,” Wonyoung says smugly, standing and brushing her hair over her shoulder. “Told you it’s the biggest you’ve ever seen.”

“Biggest doesn’t even cover it,” Irene murmurs, her voice soft but tinged with something darker. Her eyes flick up to meet yours, and there’s an undeniable hunger in her gaze. “It’s perfect.”

Ning reaches out first, her fingers hovering hesitantly over your cock before finally brushing against it. The light, experimental touch sends a shiver up your spine, and you can’t help but let out a soft grunt.

“It’s so warm,” she says, more to herself than anyone else, her hand slowly wrapping around the base.

Irene moves in next, her movements slower but no less curious. She places her hand just above Ning’s, her touch more confident as she gently squeezes the shaft. “How do you even handle this, Wonyoung?” she asks, her tone equal parts amazed and envious.

Wonyoung just laughs, stepping back and folding her arms across her chest as she watches them. “It’s not easy, but I manage. I think practice makes perfect.”

Seulgi joins in, her fingers sliding up to the head. She swirls her thumb over the slick tip, collecting a bead of precum, and smirks as she examines it. “Practice makes perfect, huh? You’re damn lucky is what you are.”

“Damn right I am,” Wonyoung replies, her voice full of pride.

The girls take their time exploring you, their hands moving up and down your cock in slow, deliberate motions as they share it between them. Ning’s grip is firm but hesitant, her strokes experimental as though she’s still trying to wrap her head around the sheer size of you. Irene’s touch is more measured, her fingers tracing the veins with almost clinical precision. Seulgi, meanwhile, is bold and playful, her grip tightening slightly as she strokes you with a confidence that leaves your knees feeling weak.

Wonyoung watches it all with a satisfied smirk, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. “See what I mean?” she says, her tone smug. “I told you he’s perfect.”

“You weren’t kidding,” Ning says, her voice breathless as she gives you another experimental stroke. “This is… I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“None of us have,” Irene murmurs, her voice low as she tightens her grip slightly. Her gaze flicks up to yours, and for a moment, it feels like she’s staring straight into your soul. “Wonyoung, you weren’t lying. You’re incredibly lucky.”

“I know,” Wonyoung replies, her smirk widening.

Seulgi leans in closer, her breath warm against your skin as she runs her tongue along the length of your shaft. The sudden contact makes you groan, and she grins up at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “And now you’re sharing him with us?” she asks Wonyoung, her tone teasing.

“Just for tonight,” Wonyoung says with a shrug, though the playful glint in her eye suggests she’s enjoying this far more than she’s letting on.

Seulgi chuckles, her lips brushing against your cock as she speaks. “Generous of you.”

The three of them work together in perfect, almost synchronized harmony. Ning focuses on the base, her small hands struggling to wrap around you as she strokes you slowly. Irene takes the middle, her movements deliberate and teasing, while Seulgi lavishes attention on the head, her tongue flicking over the sensitive tip before taking you into her mouth.

Wonyoung finally steps forward, brushing past the others to claim her spot. “Alright, girls, don’t forget who he belongs to,” she says.

The moment Wonyoung takes your cock in her mouth, the entire mood of the room shifts. Her lips wrap around you with a confidence that borders on arrogance, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks hard on the head, the warmth of her tongue swirling around it. She doesn’t even flinch at the sheer girth—if anything, she looks pleased, her doll-like eyes flicking up to meet yours with that same bratty.

But it’s not just her anymore. The other girls are right there, hands and mouths eager as they scramble to share whatever they can.

“Damn,” Seulgi mutters under her breath as she wraps a hand around your shaft, just beneath where Wonyoung’s lips are working. “Even with all of us, there’s still so much left.” Her tone is laced with awe, and she strokes the exposed length slowly, her fingers barely meeting as they encircle you.

“You’re telling me,” Ning chimes in, her voice muffled as she leans in to kiss and lick along the base of your cock. She presses her lips against the thick veins, her tongue darting out to trace them experimentally. “I can’t believe this thing’s real.”

Wonyoung pulls back briefly, a trail of saliva connecting her lips to your cock as she catches her breath. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, smirking up at you before glancing over at the others. “You should see him when he’s cumming,” she says, her voice dripping with pride. “It’s insane. He’s like a fucking fountain. You’ll see for yourselves soon enough.”

Her words make Irene pause, her elegant features flushed with heat as she runs her hand slowly along the shaft. “A lot, huh?” she murmurs, almost to herself. Her thumb brushes over the tip, smearing the slick precum that’s already leaking from you. “I can’t even imagine.”

“You won’t have to,” Wonyoung replies, her smirk widening as she moves lower, her lips brushing against your heavy, swollen balls.

The shift in her attention catches you off guard. She cradles your balls in her hands, her thumbs kneading the sensitive skin as she presses gentle kisses against them. Her lips are soft, almost reverent, but the mischievous sparkle in her eyes betrays her true intentions. “God, oppa,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry. “You’re so full. I bet you’ve been saving it all for me, haven’t you?”

Before you can respond, she opens her mouth wider, taking one of your balls into her mouth. The warmth and wetness make your knees buckle slightly, and you let out a deep groan as she sucks on it gently, her tongue swirling around it.

“Fuck,” Seulgi breathes out, watching the scene unfold with wide eyes. “She’s not kidding. They’re huge.”

“They’re heavy, too,” Wonyoung says after releasing you with a wet pop, her voice smug as she cradles them in her hand. “You wouldn’t believe how much he can shoot.”

Ning lets out a quiet, breathless laugh, her eyes darting between your cock and Wonyoung’s hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this jealous of anyone in my life,” she mutters, her voice tinged with a mix of awe and arousal.

“Then stop talking and help,” Wonyoung says, her tone playful but commanding as she gives your balls one last lick before moving back to your shaft.

The girls obey without hesitation. Ning leans in first, her lips wrapping around the head as she tries to take you deeper. She chokes almost immediately, her throat constricting around the sheer size of you, but she doesn’t pull back. Instead, she presses forward, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as she forces herself to swallow more.

“Easy,” Irene murmurs, placing a steadying hand on Ning’s shoulder. She’s kneeling beside her, her lips pressing against the exposed length just beneath where Ning’s mouth is working. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Ning gasps, pulling back just enough to catch her breath before diving back in. “I want it all.”

Her determination is clear, but even with her best efforts, she barely manages to take half of you before gagging again. The sound is lewd and wet, and drool begins to drip from the corners of her mouth, pooling at the base of your cock.

“Damn,” Seulgi says again, her voice tinged with admiration as she watches Ning struggle. “You’re really going for it, huh?”

“Of course she is,” Wonyoung says with a smirk. She reaches out, grabbing the base of your cock and guiding it away from Ning’s mouth. “But let’s not hog him, okay?”

She directs your cock toward Seulgi, who wastes no time. Her lips part, and she takes you into her mouth with surprising ease. But even she can’t handle your full length. She gets about halfway down before her throat tightens, and she has to pull back, coughing slightly.

“Shit,” she mutters, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her cheeks are flushed, and her breathing is heavy as she looks up at you. “That’s… That’s insane. How do you even fit this thing in anyone?”

Wonyoung laughs, her tone dripping with smugness. “It’s not easy,” she says, her hand stroking your cock lazily. “But once you get used to it… God, it’s worth it.”

The girls take turns, each of them eager to test their limits. Irene is the most graceful, her movements deliberate and controlled as she takes you into her mouth. But even she can’t swallow more than half before pulling back, her lips red and swollen as she gasps for air. Ning and Seulgi are less composed, their eyes watering and spit dripping down their chins as they choke and gag around your cock.

Through it all, Wonyoung keeps her focus on your balls. Her hands massage them gently, her thumbs tracing slow, deliberate circles against the sensitive skin. Occasionally, she leans in to press soft kisses against them, her tongue darting out to lick along the seam.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you, oppa?” she says, her voice low and teasing as she looks up at you. “Having all of us drooling over your cock?”

You can’t help but let out a low, guttural groan in response.

Wonyoung’s lips curl into a sly grin as she looks around the room, her voice soft but commanding. “Alright, girls,” she says, running her fingers through her long, dark hair as she starts peeling off her tank top. “I think it’s about time we head to bed.”

She tosses the cropped fabric aside, revealing the full curve of her breasts beneath a lacy black bra. Her movements are slow, deliberate, as she unfastens her jeans and lets them slide down her impossibly long legs. She steps out of them with practiced grace, standing there in nothing but her matching bra and panties, the delicate material clinging to her hips like it was custom-made for her.

The other girls watch with barely contained excitement, their eyes flicking between Wonyoung and you, anticipation thick in the air. Wonyoung meets your gaze, her hands reaching behind her back to unhook her bra. The straps slide down her shoulders, and the bra falls away, revealing her flawless, perky breasts. She’s all confidence and control, completely in her element as she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pushes them down, leaving her bare before you.

“So,” she says, her tone playful as she turns to the other girls. “Who wants to go first?”

“I do,” Ning blurts out immediately, her cheeks flushing as she realizes how eager she sounds.

“No way,” Seulgi interjects with a grin, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ve been waiting for this all night.”

Irene doesn’t say anything, but the way she shifts in place, her thighs pressing together, makes it clear that she’s just as ready as the others.

Wonyoung laughs softly, her bratty smile lighting up her face as she turns to you. “Well, oppa,” she says, stepping closer to you and running her fingers lightly down your chest. “Looks like you’re going to have to decide.”

You glance between the three of them, your heart pounding as they all look at you expectantly. Finally, your gaze lands on Irene. She’s sitting there, quiet but clearly eager, her delicate hands resting on her knees as she looks up at you with those piercing, almond-shaped eyes.

“Irene,” you say, your voice firm but gentle.

Her lips part slightly, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks as she nods and stands. The other girls groan in disappointment, but they don’t argue, instead settling on either side of the bed to watch. Ning takes a spot on Irene’s left, while Seulgi perches on her right, both of them leaning forward eagerly.

Irene steps closer to you, her hands trembling slightly as she reaches behind her to unhook her bra. The straps fall away, revealing her small, perfectly shaped breasts, the pale skin almost glowing under the soft light of the room. Her nipples are pink and already hard, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath.

You guide her onto the bed, her body soft and warm beneath your hands as she lies back against the pillows. She’s still wearing her panties, a delicate lace pair that clings to her hips, but the outline of her arousal is already visible through the thin fabric.

You finally take off your shirt before kneeling between her legs, your hands sliding up her thighs as you hook your fingers into the waistband of her panties. Irene lifts her hips slightly, allowing you to pull them down and toss them aside. The sight of her pussy makes your breath hitch—soft pink lips glistening with arousal, a neat triangle of pubic hair above them, perfectly groomed but natural.

“Beautiful,” you murmur.

Irene’s cheeks flush a deeper shade of red, and she bites her bottom lip, her hands clutching the sheets beneath her. “Please,” she says softly, her voice trembling. “Just… go slow, okay?”

“I’ll be careful,” you promise, leaning down to press a gentle kiss against her thigh.

Wonyoung is suddenly beside you, her hands roaming over your muscular back before sliding down to your ass. She gives it a firm squeeze, her nails digging lightly into your skin. “You better not keep me waiting too long, oppa,” she whispers, her breath warm against your ear.

You position yourself at Irene’s entrance, the head of your cock brushing against her folds and gathering the slick wetness there. Her body tenses slightly beneath you, and she lets out a soft gasp as you push forward, just the tip slipping inside her.

“Ahh…” Irene’s voice is breathless, her hands gripping the sheets tighter as her body adjusts to your size.

Her pussy is tight, impossibly so, and you take your time, pushing in slowly inch by inch. Each movement draws a new sound from her—a gasp, a moan, a sharp intake of breath—as her walls stretch to accommodate you.

“Fuck,” Seulgi murmurs from the side, her eyes glued to where your cock is disappearing into Irene. “Look at her… She’s taking it so well.”

Ning nods in agreement, her hand drifting up to cup one of Irene’s small breasts. She squeezes it gently, her thumb brushing over the hardened nipple as she leans in to kiss the soft skin there.

Irene arches her back slightly at the attention, a soft whimper escaping her lips as you sink deeper inside her. “It’s… so big,” she gasps, her voice trembling with a mix of pleasure and disbelief.

“I know,” Wonyoung says smugly, her hands still exploring your body. “That’s why he’s mine.”

You pause for a moment, letting Irene adjust to the feeling of being stretched so completely. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, her breaths shallow as her body relaxes around you. Slowly, you begin to move again, pulling back slightly before pushing in deeper, each inch making her gasp louder.

“God,” Irene moans, her head falling back against the pillows as her legs wrap loosely around your hips. “You’re… you’re so deep…”

Ning and Seulgi continue to tease her, their hands roaming over her body as they kiss and lick at her sensitive skin. Ning focuses on her breasts, her lips wrapping around one nipple while her fingers pinch the other. Seulgi trails kisses down Irene’s neck, her teeth grazing lightly against the pale skin.

“Keep going,” Wonyoung whispers, her voice full of anticipation as she watches you. Her fingers dig into your ass again, urging you forward. “She can take it.”

You press forward until you’re half inside her, the tight heat of her pussy gripping you like a vice. Irene lets out a choked cry, her nails digging into your shoulders as her body trembles beneath you.

You lean down, your lips brushing against her ear as you whisper, “You’re so beautiful, Irene.”

Her only response is a broken moan, her eyes fluttering shut as you begin to move, slow and deliberate, each thrust drawing another gasp or moan from her lips. The girls on either side of her watch intently, their hands and mouths never leaving her body as the room fills with the sound of your movements and Irene’s pleasured cries.

And through it all, Wonyoung stays close, her touch constant as she whispers encouragement into your ear, her voice low and teasing. “That’s it, oppa,” she murmurs. “Show her what you can do.”

You thrust slowly, deliberately, only using a little more than half your cock, but even that feels like too much for Irene. Each time you push into her, her walls stretch around you like they’re made for it, molding to your size with a tightness that feels almost unbearable.

Her pussy clenches instinctively with every movement, struggling to take you as her slick heat coats your shaft, making the glide smooth yet impossibly intense. Irene's soft cries fill the room, her fingers gripping the sheets beside her as her body trembles beneath you.

“God,” she gasps, her voice breathless and high-pitched as she turns her head to the side, her dark hair spilling over the pillows. “You’re… you’re splitting me open…”

“Doesn’t she look beautiful, oppa?” Wonyoung’s voice cuts through Irene’s moans, playful and commanding. She’s watching everything, her lips curled into that signature bratty smirk. Without warning, she reaches out and slaps your ass—hard. The sting of it sends a jolt through you, and you grunt in response, your hips pushing forward just a little harder than before.

Irene lets out a sharp moan at the deeper thrust, her body jolting beneath you. “Ahh, fuck…!”

“That’s it,” Wonyoung teases, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Keep going. She can take it.”

Wonyoung moves across the bed with catlike grace, her long legs carrying her to Irene’s side. She climbs onto the bed and straddles Irene’s face, her knees pressing into the pillows as she settles herself over her.

“Open up,” Wonyoung says, her voice soft but commanding as she leans forward, her hands braced on the headboard. Her pussy hovers just above Irene’s lips, glistening and flushed with arousal. “I want to feel that tongue.”

Irene hesitates for only a moment, her eyes wide with a mix of nervousness and eagerness. Then, her lips part, and her tongue darts out tentatively, flicking over Wonyoung’s folds.

“Good girl,” Wonyoung purrs, rocking her hips slightly to press herself against Irene’s mouth. “Keep going. Don’t stop.”

Irene’s moans become muffled as she does her best to obey, her tongue moving more confidently now as she laps at Wonyoung’s pussy. Her hands move to Wonyoung’s thighs, gripping them tightly as she pulls her closer, her head tilting back slightly to get better access.

You watch the scene unfold, the sight of Wonyoung riding Irene’s face only fueling the heat coursing through your body. You can feel Irene tightening around you even more as she tries to focus on both sensations—the fullness of your cock stretching her and the taste of Wonyoung on her tongue.

“Fuck, oppa,” Wonyoung groans, her voice trembling slightly as she rolls her hips against Irene’s mouth. “She’s so eager. I think she likes it.”

“She does,” you murmur, your voice rough with arousal as you thrust into Irene slowly, each movement drawing a soft whimper from her lips that vibrates against Wonyoung’s pussy.

Ning leans over Irene’s side, her hands roaming over her chest as she kneads and squeezes her small breasts. She leans down, her lips wrapping around one of Irene’s nipples as she sucks gently, her tongue flicking over the hardened peak.

Seulgi takes the other side, her fingers tracing patterns along Irene’s stomach before dipping lower, brushing lightly over where your cock is buried inside her. She doesn’t touch you directly, but her fingers graze the spot where Irene’s pussy stretches around you, her touch teasing and exploratory.

“You’re so tight,” Seulgi murmurs, her voice full of admiration as she watches your cock slide in and out of Irene. “Look at how she’s taking you. It’s… fuck, it’s beautiful.”

Ning lifts her head from Irene’s chest, her lips glistening as she turns to Seulgi. “She’s perfect,” she agrees, her voice soft and breathless. Their eyes meet for a moment, a spark of shared excitement passing between them before Ning leans in and presses her lips to Seulgi’s.

Their kiss is slow and sensual, their tongues moving together as their hands continue to roam over Irene’s trembling body. It’s like they’re lost in their own world, their soft moans mingling with the wet sounds of your cock moving inside Irene and the muffled noises coming from Wonyoung’s pussy.

Irene’s moans grow louder, more frantic, her body arching beneath you as she struggles to keep up with everything happening to her. Her pussy clenches tightly around you, and her hips start to move instinctively, meeting your slow thrusts as if begging for more.

“She’s losing it,” Wonyoung says with a satisfied laugh, her hips grinding down harder against Irene’s mouth. “Keep going, oppa. Make her cum for me.”

You lean down, your hands gripping Irene’s hips firmly as you push into her just a little deeper, making her gasp and cry out beneath you. “You’re doing so well,” you murmur, your voice low and soothing. “Just let go, Irene. I’ll take care of you.”

Her eyes flutter open briefly, then, they squeeze shut again as another moan escapes her, muffled by Wonyoung’s pussy pressing harder against her face.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Wonyoung groans, her head falling back as she rocks her hips against Irene’s mouth. “Her tongue feels amazing.”

The room is a haze of heat and moans and wet, lewd sounds. Ning and Seulgi’s hands never stop moving, their fingers teasing and caressing Irene’s body as they kiss each other with an intensity that only adds to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

You keep your pace steady, your cock sliding in and out of Irene’s tight, dripping pussy, each thrust stretching her in ways she’s never experienced before. Her body shudders beneath you, her moans growing louder and more desperate as she gets closer and closer to the edge.

“Come on, oppa,” Wonyoung urges, her voice breathy and teasing as she looks over her shoulder at you. “Make her cum.”

You grip Irene’s hips tighter, your thrusts becoming just a little faster, a little deeper, as you push her closer to the brink. Her body trembles violently beneath you, and her muffled cries reach a fever pitch as her orgasm crashes over her.

Her pussy clenches around you like a vice, her entire body arching off the bed as waves of pleasure ripple through her. Wonyoung moans loudly as well, her movements becoming erratic as Irene’s moans vibrate against her clit, pushing her closer to her own release.

“Fuck, yes,” Wonyoung cries out, her head falling back as she grinds against Irene’s face.

Ning and Seulgi pull away from each other, their eyes fixed on Irene’s writhing form as they continue to stroke and caress her, their hands moving in perfect sync.

You slow your movements, letting Irene ride out her orgasm as her body relaxes beneath you, her chest heaving with each labored breath.

Wonyoung finally lifts herself off Irene’s face, her legs trembling slightly as she moves to sit beside you. “Not bad,” she says with a smirk, her fingers trailing over your arm.

The bed shifts as everyone moves, bodies brushing against each other in a haze of arousal and need. Seulgi wastes no time, standing and sliding her lingerie down her toned body in one smooth motion. Her black bra and matching thong hit the floor, revealing a figure carved by years of dance. Her athletic curves are taut, her thighs strong, her ass round and firm, framed perfectly as she kneels on the bed.

“It’s my turn now,” she says, her voice low and dripping with anticipation. She gets on all fours without hesitation, her back arching to present herself, ass high in the air and legs spread just enough to show her glistening pussy already wet and waiting.

“Damn,” Ning mutters, her eyes glued to Seulgi’s perfect form. She doesn't waste any time and also takes off her own lingerie, sitting directly in front of Seulgi, already spreading her legs to reveal her own slick folds. “Come here,” she adds with a smirk, her voice playful but commanding.

Seulgi doesn’t need to be told twice. She crawls forward on all fours, her face inches from Ning’s pussy. Her lips part as she leans in, her tongue darting out to tease along Ning’s folds before sucking lightly on her clit.

“Fuck,” Ning gasps, her fingers tangling in Seulgi’s hair as she pulls her closer. “That’s good. Just like that.”

Behind them, Wonyoung steps up, her eyes narrowing as she watches Seulgi’s ass sway with each movement. “Look at you,” she says. She reaches out and delivers a sharp slap to Seulgi’s ass, the sound echoing through the room. “You look like such a slut in this position.”

Seulgi moans against Ning’s pussy, the sound muffled but unmistakable. “Maybe I am,” she mumbles, her voice thick with arousal before diving back in, her tongue moving faster as Ning lets out a breathless laugh.

Wonyoung turns to you, her bratty smirk lighting up her face as she gestures toward Seulgi. “Go on, oppa,” she says. “She’s ready for you.”

But before you move, Irene is suddenly beside you, her fingers brushing lightly against your arm. Her lips are swollen, her face flushed, and there’s a softness in her eyes that wasn’t there before.

You lean down, capturing her lips in a slow, lingering kiss. There’s a sweetness to it, but underneath that, you can taste the familiar tang of Wonyoung’s pussy, still fresh on Irene’s tongue.

“You okay?” you murmur against her lips, your voice low and filled with concern.

She nods, a small smile tugging at her lips. “More than okay,” she whispers. “A cock never made me cum so fast before.”

The sincerity in her voice makes your chest tighten slightly, but before you can say anything else, she presses another kiss to your lips before stepping back to let you focus on Seulgi.

Your attention shifts to her, the sight of Seulgi’s ass still high in the air, her pussy glistening and inviting. You kneel behind her, one hand gripping her hip as the other guides your cock to her entrance. Her wetness coats the head as you tease her, rubbing up and down her slit, your movements deliberate and slow.

Seulgi whimpers, her hips pressing back against you as she tries to take you inside. “Stop teasing,” she gasps, her voice desperate. “Just put it in already.”

You smirk, leaning over her slightly as you position yourself. “You sure?” you ask, your tone teasing. “I don’t want to break you.”

“Do it,” she snaps, her voice breathy and demanding.

You push forward slowly, the head of your cock slipping inside her tight, wet heat. Seulgi lets out a sharp gasp, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her as her body tenses.

“Holy shit,” she breathes, her voice trembling. “You’re so fucking big…”

Behind you, Wonyoung watches with gleeful satisfaction. She moves closer to Irene, their bodies aligning as she presses a soft kiss to Irene’s lips. The size difference between them is striking—Wonyoung’s long, slender frame towering over Irene’s petite figure, their contrast somehow making the moment even hotter.

Seulgi moans again as you push deeper, each inch of your cock stretching her further. Her pussy grips you tightly, the slick walls trembling around you as she struggles to take more. You pause halfway, letting her adjust as her breaths come in short, shallow gasps.

“You’re doing so well,” you murmur, your hands sliding up her sides to steady her.

She nods, her hair falling in messy waves around her face. “Keep going,” she whispers. “I can take it.”

You push forward again, the slow, deliberate movements drawing a mix of moans and gasps from Seulgi as your cock stretches her inch by inch. The pleasure is etched across her face, her lips parted and her brows furrowed as she rocks her hips back against you, desperate for more.

“Fuck,” Ning moans, watching from her position in front of Seulgi. Her legs are still spread, her pussy glistening as Seulgi continues to lick and suck at her clit. “She’s so good with her mouth. I don’t know how she’s even concentrating.”

“Because she’s a slut,” Wonyoung teases, her voice light and mocking as she pulls Irene closer, their lips meeting in another heated kiss. Her hands roam over Irene’s small frame, her fingers trailing down her sides and cupping her breasts as their tongues intertwine.

The sight only spurs you on, your hips pressing forward until you’re buried fully inside Seulgi. She cries out, her entire body trembling as she clutches the sheets beneath her. “Oh my god,” she gasps, her voice breaking. “You’re… you’re fucking huge. It’s too much…”

“You’re taking it so well,” you murmur, your hands gripping her hips tightly as you begin to move, slow and steady.

Each thrust draws a moan from her lips, the mixture of pain and pleasure etched across her face as her body rocks beneath you. Ning tangles her fingers in Seulgi’s hair, pulling her closer as she grinds against her mouth, her own moans growing louder with each flick of Seulgi’s tongue.

Behind you, Wonyoung and Irene are lost in their own world, their kisses deep and passionate as Wonyoung’s hands explore every inch of Irene’s body. Wonyoung’s long fingers tracing delicate patterns over Irene’s pale skin as their breaths mingle.

The room is filled with the sounds of pleasure—moans, gasps, the wet slap of your cock sliding into Seulgi’s tight pussy. Her body trembles with every thrust, her voice breaking into desperate cries as she tries to meet your movements.

“You love this, don’t you?” you whisper, your voice low and teasing as you lean over her.

“Yes,” she gasps, her nails digging into the sheets. “Fuck, yes. Don’t stop.”

And so you don’t, your pace slow but steady, each movement deliberate as you drive her closer to the edge. Wonyoung’s laughter rings out from beside you, her voice full of satisfaction as she watches Seulgi fall apart beneath you.

“You look so good like this,” Wonyoung murmurs, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Keep going, oppa. Slap that slut. Make her scream.”

You do as she says, the sharp crack of your palm against Seulgi’s ass reverberates through the room, the flushed imprint of your hand blooming across her skin. She arches her back with a guttural moan, her hips stuttering backward to meet your next thrust—deeper, harder, the pace unrelenting now. Her pussy clenches like a vice around your cock, slick walls trembling as she struggles to adjust to the brutal rhythm.

“F-fuck!” she chokes out, her voice breaking as you bottom out inside her, the thick base of your shaft stretching her to the limit. Drool drips from her lips onto the sheets below, her face still buried between Ning’s thighs, though her tongue falters, too overwhelmed to keep pace.

Ning giggles breathlessly, her fingers tightening in Seulgi’s hair. “Getting distracted, unnie?” she teases, grinding her hips forward to force Seulgi’s mouth back against her clit. But Seulgi’s response is a muffled whimper, her body jerking as you slap her ass again, the sound sharp and possessive.

“Louder,” Wonyoung demands from across the bed, her voice honeyed and cruel. She’s sprawled beside Irene, their limbs tangled as Irene’s slender fingers work between Wonyoung’s thighs, stroking her pussy with practiced precision. Wonyoung’s head tilts back, her lips parted in a moan, but her eyes stay locked on you—dark, commanding, hungry. “Make her scream. Ruin her.”

You obey, your hips pistoning faster, each thrust punching a ragged cry from Seulgi’s throat. Her knuckles bleach white where she grips the sheets, her ass reddening under the force of your strikes.

“Y-you’re—ah!—splitting me open—” Seulgi gasps, her words dissolving into a shattered moan as you angle your cock upward, grinding against her g-spot with deliberate cruelty. Her thighs quiver, her body taut as a bowstring, but you slow just enough to deny her release, drawing a frustrated sob from her lips.

Irene watches, her breath hitching as Wonyoung arches beneath her touch. “Look at her,” Irene murmurs, her voice husky with arousal. “She’s unraveling.”

Wonyoung’s laugh is low, wicked. “And she’s still not even close.” She grabs Irene’s wrist, guiding her fingers deeper, harder. “Keep going. I want to watch her break first.”

Ning, meanwhile, rocks her hips faster against Seulgi’s mouth, her moans pitching higher. “Come on, unnie,” she taunts, her voice trembling. “You can take it, right?” But Seulgi’s only response is a broken whine, her eyes squeezed shut as you dominate her, her body reduced to a quivering, sweating mess beneath you.

The air reeks of sex and salt, the heat suffocating. You lean over Seulgi’s back, your breath hot against her ear. “You wanted this,” you growl, punctuating the words with another slap, another brutal thrust. “Begging for it like a slut.”

“Yes—” she sobs, her voice raw. “Y-yes, please—!”

Ning cums first, her back arching as she grinds down on Seulgi’s tongue, her cries sharp and sweet. Seulgi tries to focus, her mouth working desperately, but another deep thrust from you shatters her concentration, leaving her gasping, drooling, ruined.

Wonyoung’s smirk is triumphant. “Good girl,” she purrs, though it’s unclear who she’s praising—Seulgi or Ning. Her own hips roll against Irene’s hand, her breath catching. “Now… harder.”

You give Seulgi exactly that.

Seulgi’s entire body locks up like a live wire, back arched so hard it looks like it might snap. “Oppa—I’m—I’m gonna—!” Her scream cracks into a shrill, broken wail as her pussy vises around your cock, clenching in ragged pulses that feel like she’s trying to milk you dry. Tears streak her flushed cheeks, her ass still jolting red from your slaps as she grinds back against you, desperate. “Fuck—fuck—fuck—!”

You drill into her faster, harder, the wet slap of your hips against her ass drowning out her cries. Her thighs tremble, her knees buckling until she’s collapsed onto the bed, face mashed into the sheets. But you don’t stop—not until her screams dissolve into choked, hiccupping sobs, her nails clawing at the mattress. “There it is,” you grunt, feeling her walls flutter wildly, sucking you deeper like she’s trying to claim you. “C’mon, ruin the sheets, princess.”

She cums like a fucking avalanche—back bowing, toes curling, her pussy drowning you in slick as she thrashes. “Ngh—ah! AH!” Her voice shreds raw, every muscle in her body seizing before she goes limp, gasping like she’s been punched.

You rip your cock out just as the first thick ropes of cum surge from your balls, splattering hot across her lower back. It’s not an orgasm—just a relentless leak, your swollen sac emptying itself in messy, pearly streaks that drip down her ass. “Shit,” Seulgi whimpers, twitching as the warmth coats her skin. “S’so… much…”

Wonyoung’s already there, fingers dragging through the mess on Seulgi’s back. She licks her fingertips slowly, eyes locked on yours, that bratty smirk plastered on her face. “So good,” she purrs, before shoving her cum-smeared hand against Irene’s mouth. “Try it.” Irene hesitates, then laps at it obediently, her tongue swirling around Wonyoung’s fingers with a soft, approving hum. “Addicting,” she murmurs, lips glistening.

Ning slowly gets out of bed, biting her lip hard enough to bruise. You catch her eye, patting the chair beside the bed. “C’mere,” you say, voice softer now. “You’re up.”

She freezes, then nods, shaky as a fawn. She climbs into your lap, her thighs bracketing yours. “Slow,” you remind her, hands gripping her hips as she lines herself up. Her pussy glistens, already dripping, but her breath hitches when the head of your cock brushes her entrance. “I-I can’t—”

“Yes you can,” Wonyoung snaps from across the room. “Stop being a baby.”

You shoot her a glare, but Ning’s already sinking down, inch by torturous inch. Her face screws up, tears welling as she bottoms out—halfway, her tight little cunt stretching obscenely around your shaft. “Fuck,” she whimpers, nails digging into your shoulders. “It’s—too much—”

“Breathe,” you murmur, thumb brushing her cheek. “You’re doing good.”

She nods, shaky, her hips trembling as she grinds in tiny circles, trying to adjust. The stretch is written all over her face—pain, fear, but underneath it, want. Her pussy flutters, sucking you deeper like it’s begging for more.

Wonyoung rolls her eyes. “Boring. Just shove her dow—”

“Shut up,” you growl, cutting her off. Ning’s eyes widen, but there’s a flicker of gratitude there before she buries her face in your neck, her breath hot against your skin.

“I… I wanna try,” she whispers, voice trembling.

You nod, hands steady on her hips. “Whenever you’re ready.”

She lifts herself slightly—just an inch—before sinking back down with a sharp gasp. “Ah!” Her thighs shake, her cunt clenching like a fist. “I-I can’t… more—”

“You’re fine,” you reassure her, but she’s already grinding harder, chasing the friction, her moans pitching higher.

Ning’s hips stutter as she grinds down, her tiny cunt swallowing another inch of your cock with a wet squelch. Tears cling to her lashes, her breath hitching in sharp, broken gasps. “H-hurts,” she whines, her fingers digging into your shoulders like she’s clinging to a cliff edge. But her hips don’t stop—small, desperate circles that drag her clit against the base of your shaft, her pussy fluttering like a heartbeat around you.

“You’re doing it,” Seulgi rasps from the bed, sprawled on her back with her legs spread. Wonyoung already has a vibrator in her hands, buzzing against Seulgi's clit, making her jerk and curse. “Fuck—fuck—look at her go, Ning! Take that dick like a good girl—”

Irene moans softly beside her, back arched as Wonyoung takes the vibrator to her pussy in torturous circles over her slit. “So… tight,” Irene murmurs, her usually composed voice fraying. Her eyes stay locked on Ning, watching the way her petite body strains to accommodate you. “You can… ah… handle more, can’t you?”

Wonyoung smirks, but there’s a flicker of something softer in her gaze as she watches Ning struggle. “Ease up, Ning,” she says, her tone less biting than usual. The vibrator dips lower, pressing against Irene’s asshole, drawing a sharp gasp. “You don’t wanna rip, do you?”

Ning shakes her head frantically, her dark hair sticking to her sweaty neck. “N-no—I’m t-trying—” She sinks down another fraction, her cunt stretching obscenely around your girth. A high-pitched whine escapes her lips, her thighs trembling violently. “O-oppa—it’s too big—”

“You’re lying,” Seulgi growls, her hips bucking against the vibrator. “Your pussy’s dripping, you little liar—fuck!” Wonyoung shoves the toy harder against her, silencing her with a choked cry.

You grip Ning’s waist, thumbs brushing the jut of her hipbones. “Breathe,” you murmur, voice rough but steady. “You’re in control. Go slow.”

She nods, sucking in a shaky breath before lifting herself—just an inch—and sinking back down. This time, she takes more, her tight walls squeezing like a fist as she chokes out a sob. “Ah! Ah—!” Her clit grinds against you, the friction wringing a sudden, startled moan from her throat. “F-fuck—!”

“There it is,” Wonyoung mutters, her smirk gentler now. She drags the vibrator back to Irene’s clit, watching Ning’s face crumple with a mix of pain and dawning pleasure. “See? Not so bad, right?”

Ning doesn’t answer, too focused on the brutal stretch, her hips rolling in jerky, unsteady motions. Drool drips from her parted lips as she bottoms out—three-quarters of your cock buried inside her—and freezes, her entire body trembling. “C-can’t,” she whimpers, voice cracking. “I’ll—break—”

“You won’t,” you assure her, hands steadying her hips. “Look at you. Taking it.”

Seulgi laughs breathlessly, her own thighs quivering as the vibrator pushes her closer to the edge again. “C’mon, Ning-ah—beg for it! Tell him you need it—”

“Shut up,” Ning snaps, her brattiness flaring through the tears. But the defiance doesn’t last—your cock shifts inside her, brushing a spot that makes her jolt. “Ah! F-fuck—there—!”

Irene’s breath hitches, her fingers tangling in the sheets. “She’s… close,” she murmurs. Wonyoung’s free hand slides up Irene’s thigh, pinching her nipple hard enough to make her yelp.

“Focus,” Wonyoung chides, but her eyes stay on Ning, watching the way her small body writhes, her cunt glistening around your shaft. “You’re doing good, Ning. Little more.”

Ning sobs, her hips finally finding a rhythm—shallow, frantic bounces that drag her clit against you with every thrust. “O-oppa—please—!” Her voice cracks, her walls fluttering wildly as pleasure starts to overtake the pain. “I—I need—!”

“Need what?” you growl, gripping her hips tighter.

“Y-you—” she chokes out, her face burning crimson. “All of you—please—!”

The room holds its breath as you guide her down—deeper—until her ass meets your thighs, your cock fully sheathed inside her. Ning’s scream is raw, shattered, her nails scratching as she claws at your shoulders. “FULL—!”

Seulgi cackles, half-hysterical, as the vibrator wrings another broken moan from her. “Holy shit—she did it—!”

Wonyoung’s smirk returns, but there’s pride there too. “Told you,” she says, her voice oddly tender. “Now… move.”

Ning does—slow, grinding rolls of her hips that make her whimper with every shift. “S’too much,” she slurs, her voice wrecked. “B-but… good… s’good…”

Irene watches, transfixed, her own hips rolling against the vibrator. “Beautiful,” she breathes, her usual poise crumbling.

Wonyoung leans in, her lips brushing Irene’s ear. “Patience,” she murmurs. “This is just… the start.”

Then, she shoves the vibrator deep into Irene’s pussy with a sharp thrust, making Irene’s back arch off the bed as she lets out a strangled cry. “Fuck—!” Irene’s hands fly to Wonyoung’s wrist, her nails digging in as the toy buzzes relentlessly inside her. Wonyoung’s other hand is already working Seulgi, two fingers plunging into her soaked pussy while her thumb grinds hard against her clit. Seulgi’s head falls back, her moans guttural and raw, her hips bucking wildly against Wonyoung’s hand.

“Fuck her harder,” Wonyoung growls, her eyes locked on you and Ning. “Don’t let her breathe.”

Ning’s still grinding on your lap, her tiny body trembling as she tries to keep up with the rhythm. Her pace is slow, torturous, her cunt clenching around your cock like she’s trying to milk you dry. Her face is flushed, tears streaking her cheeks as she whimpers, “O-oppa—it’s so big—I can’t—”

“You can,” you growl, your hands gripping her hips tighter. “Look at you. Taking it like a fucking slut.”

Ning’s eyes widen, her lips parting in a shocked gasp, but the words seem to ignite something in her. Her hips roll faster, her cunt squeezing around you as she moans, “Y-you feel so good—ah!—I-I can’t—stop—”

But it’s still not enough. The slow, teasing pace is driving you insane, and you can’t take it anymore. Without warning, you stand up, lifting Ning off the chair like she weighs nothing. Her legs instinctively wrap around your waist, her arms clinging to your shoulders as she lets out a startled scream. “O-oppa—!”

The girls freeze for a split second, their eyes widening as they take in the sight. You’re towering over them, your massive frame dwarfing Ning’s petite body. The difference is brutal—you’re almost two meters tall, and Ning barely reaches your chest. Her tiny legs dangle helplessly, her cunt stretched obscenely around your cock as you hold her in the air.

“Holy shit,” Seulgi breathes, her voice trembling with awe. “Look at her—fuck—”

Wonyoung’s smirk is back, her fingers still working Seulgi’s pussy as she watches you with dark, hungry eyes. “Finally,” she purrs, her voice dripping with approval. “Ruin her.”

Your hips snap forward, driving your cock deeper into Ning’s tight, trembling cunt. She lets out a shattered scream, her nails digging into your shoulders as her body jerks violently. “AH! O-OPPA—!”

“That’s it,” Wonyoung hisses, her voice rising with excitement. “Fuck her—make her scream!”

Irene’s moans join the chorus, her hips grinding against the vibrator as she watches you dominate Ning. “God—she’s so small—” she gasps, her voice breaking. “Ruin her—please—”

Seulgi’s not far behind, her thighs quivering as Wonyoung’s fingers work her over. “Fuck—look at her—fuck her harder—!”

Ning’s screams are your fuel, her tiny body bouncing helplessly in your grip as you pound into her. Her cunt is dripping, her walls fluttering wildly as she clings to you, her voice cracking with every thrust. “AH! AH! AH!”

“You like that?” you growl, your voice rough and demanding. “Being used like a fucking toy?”

Ning nods frantically, her face buried in your neck as she sobs, “Y-yes—yes—please—more—!”

Her legs shake violently, her cunt clenching like a vice as she gets closer and closer to the edge. “I’m—I’m gonna cum—!” she screams, her voice raw and broken.

“Do it,” Wonyoung commands, her voice sharp and unyielding. “Cum on his cock—show us—”

Ning's orgasm makes her scream echo throughout the entire room. Her back arches, her entire body locking up as she squirts, her cunt gushing around your cock. The sound is obscene—wet, messy, relentless—as her juices drip down your thighs. “AHHH!” she wails, her voice shattering as her walls milk you, her tiny body convulsing in your grip.

The girls watch in stunned silence, their own moans forgotten as they take in the sight. Even Wonyoung looks momentarily speechless, her fingers stilling inside Seulgi as she stares at Ning’s trembling form.

You can’t hold back anymore. The pressure in your balls is too much, and with a low growl, you release another leak. Thick ropes of cum surge into Ning’s tight, fluttering cunt, filling her to the brim as she whimpers, “O-oppa—s’so hot—ah!”

Ning’s legs give out, her body going limp as you lower her to the ground. She collapses onto the bed, her chest heaving as she stares up at you with dazed, glassy eyes. “T-thank you,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

Wonyoung’s smirk returns, her fingers slowly leaving Seulgi's pussy, her other hand turning off the vibrator “Good girl,” she purrs, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Now it's finally my turn.”

Ning’s trembling legs shift slightly as she scoots higher on the bed, her body still quivering from the aftershocks of her orgasm. Her thighs part instinctively, her glistening pussy on full display, your cum still leaking out of her. Seulgi doesn’t waste a second. She crawls over, her eyes locked on Ning’s messy cunt, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

“Let me clean you up, Ning,” Seulgi purrs, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. She doesn’t wait for permission, her tongue darting out to lick a long, slow stripe up Ning’s slit. Ning gasps, her back arching off the bed as Seulgi’s tongue swirls around her sensitive clit, lapping up your cum with a lewd suck.

“Ah! S-Seulgi—!” Ning whimpers, her hands flying to Seulgi’s hair, tangling in the dark strands as Seulgi buries her face deeper. “F-fuck—that’s—too much—”

Seulgi pulls back just enough to smirk up at her, her lips glistening. “Too much?” she teases, her breath hot against Ning’s pussy. “You were just screaming for more a second ago.” She dives back in, her tongue plunging into Ning’s tight hole, licking up every drop of cum as Ning writhes beneath her.

The sight is obscene—Ning’s tiny body trembling, her legs spread wide as Seulgi devours her, your cum smeared across her lips. Your cock twitches, still hard and aching, as you watch Seulgi work her over.

Wonyoung clears her throat, her bratty smirk firmly in place as she sprawls out on the bed, her long legs spread invitingly. “Finally,” she drawls, her voice dripping with impatience. “My turn. And don’t hold back, oppa. You know I can take it.”

Irene and Seulgi exchange a glance before moving to either side of Wonyoung, their hands already roaming over her flawless body. Irene leans down, capturing Wonyoung’s lips in a deep, hungry kiss, while Seulgi’s mouth latches onto one of Wonyoung’s perky breasts, her tongue swirling around the hardened nipple.

“Fuck,” Wonyoung moans, her head falling back against the pillows as Irene’s hand slips between her thighs, teasing her already wet pussy. “Finally some attention.”

You position yourself between Wonyoung’s legs, your cock throbbing as you line up with her entrance. She’s dripping, her pussy glistening with arousal as she looks up at you with those dark, commanding eyes. “Go on,” she taunts, her voice low and teasing. “Ruin me. I'm not fragile like Ning, the crybaby.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Your hips snap forward, driving your cock into her in one brutal thrust. Wonyoung’s back arches, a sharp gasp tearing from her lips as she takes every inch of you. “Fuck—yes—” she moans, her nails digging into the sheets.

You set a rough, relentless pace, your hips slamming into hers with enough force to make the bed shake. Wonyoung’s moans are loud, unrestrained, her bratty facade crumbling as you fuck her senseless. “Harder,” she demands, her voice trembling. “Fucking—harder—”

Irene’s lips trail down Wonyoung’s neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin as her fingers pinch and twist Wonyoung’s other nipple. Seulgi's hands slide down her tummy, placing soft kisses.

“God—you’re so tight,” you growl, your hands gripping Wonyoung’s hips hard enough to leave bruises. “Fucking—take it—”

Wonyoung’s head thrashes against the pillows, her moans climbing higher as you pound into her. “Yes—yes—fuck—!”

Ning, still trembling from her own orgasm, watches Wonyoung with wide, mischievous eyes. Her hand reaches for the forgotten vibrator, her fingers curling around it as she flicks it on with a soft buzz. The sound is low but unmistakable, and Wonyoung’s head snaps toward her, her dark eyes narrowing.

“Ning,” Wonyoung growls, her voice sharp and warning. “Don’t you dare—”

But Ning’s already crawling closer, her lips curling into a wicked grin as she presses the vibrator against Wonyoung’s clit. The sudden buzz makes Wonyoung jolt violently, her back arching off the bed as a sharp, guttural scream tears from her throat.

“FUCK!” Wonyoung screams, her body thrashing as the vibrator sends shockwaves of pleasure through her. “Ning—! STOP!”

Irene and Seulgi are quick to react, their hands pinning Wonyoung’s wrists to the bed as she squirms beneath them. Irene’s grip is firm, her nails digging into Wonyoung’s delicate skin as she leans down, her lips brushing against Wonyoung’s ear.

“Hold still,” Irene murmurs, her voice low and commanding. “Take it.”

Seulgi grins, her teeth grazing Wonyoung’s nipple as she adds, “You wanted it rough. Don’t complain now.”

Wonyoung’s screams pitch higher, raw and ragged, as you jackhammer into her, your cock splitting her oversensitive pussy wide. Her thighs quiver, her hips jerking wildly, but Irene and Seulgi’s grip is ironclad—nails digging into her wrists. “S-stop—fuck—I said STOP—!” she shrieks, her bratty bravado crumbling into desperate, tear-soaked pleas.

Ning doesn’t flinch. Her fingers press the buzzing vibrator harder against Wonyoung’s swollen clit, her other hand slapping Wonyoung’s inner thigh. “Make me,” she sneers. “You love this, Wonyoung. Look at your fucking pussy—dripping like a slut.”

Wonyoung’s head thrashes, her back arching off the bed as you slam into her cervix, the slap of your hips against her ass echoing through the room. “N-no—ah! AH!” Her protests dissolve into garbled moans, her cunt clenching around you in violent spasms. “T-too much—plea—SE—”

“Shut up,” you growl. “You begged for this. Take it.”

Irene’s laugh is low, dangerous, as she twists Wonyoung’s nipple sharply. “Crying already? You’re pathetic.”

Seulgi joins in, her teeth sinking into Wonyoung’s shoulder as she purrs, “Scream louder. Let the whole building hear how much of a whore you are.”

Wonyoung’s orgasm detonates without warning. Her body snaps taut, a guttural wail tearing from her throat as her pussy gushes, squirting across the sheets in a filthy, soaking wave. “F-FUCK—I’M CUMMING—STOP—!”

Ning slaps her clit with the vibrator, the buzz cranked to max. “Cum again,” she demands, her voice icy. “Now.”

Wonyoung sobs, her hips bucking uncontrollably as a second orgasm rips through her, her cunt milking your cock in frantic pulses. “AHHH! P-PLEASE—MERCY—!”

“Mercy?” you mock, slamming into her harder, your balls slapping her ass. “You don’t deserve mercy.” You yank your cock out suddenly, leaving her gaping, and drive it back in—upward—the head grinding brutally against her clit.

Wonyoung screeches, her body bowing off the bed, her nails clawing at Irene and Seulgi’s arms. “NO—NO—AH! AH!”

Ning leans in, her lips curling into a vicious smile. “Slut,” she whispers, before spitting in Wonyoung’s face.

The insult tips her over. Wonyoung’s third orgasm is violent—her pussy squirting again, her screams dissolving into choked, hiccupping wails as her body convulses, utterly wrecked. You fuck her through it, your thrusts relentless, until her eyes roll back and she goes limp, her chest heaving, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks.

Irene releases Wonyoung’s wrist to trail a finger through the mess on the sheets. “Look at this,” she murmurs, licking her finger clean with a smirk. “You’re ruined, Wonyoung.”

Seulgi laughs, finally releasing her grip. “Look at her—can’t even speak.”

You pull out with a wet pop, your cock glistening with her cum. Wonyoung’s pussy twitches, still pulsing weakly, as she stares blankly at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid breaths.

Ning drops the vibrator onto Wonyoung’s stomach, her voice sweetly mocking. “Aw, did we break you?”

Wonyoung’s lips part, but all that comes out is a broken whimper. She lies sprawled on the bed, her chest heaving, her body still trembling from the relentless pounding you gave her. Her legs are splayed wide, her pussy glistening and swollen, a mess of cum and slick dripping down her thighs. Her eyes are half-lidded, her lips parted as she tries to catch her breath. You stand over her, your cock still rock-hard, throbbing with need. Your hand strokes it slowly, the pre-cum leaking from the tip smearing over your fingers as you let out a low groan.

“Close,” you mutter, your voice rough and strained. “Fuck—I’m so close.”

The words are like a trigger. Irene, Seulgi, and Ning immediately drop to their knees around you, their eyes locked on your cock with a mix of hunger and desperation. Their lips are swollen, their skin flushed and glistening with sweat, their hair messy and sticking to their faces. They look ruined—completely wrecked by your cock—And it's fucking beautiful.

Ning glances over at Wonyoung, who’s still lying limp on the bed, and smirks. “Wonyoungie,” she calls, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Aren’t you joining us? Or are you too tired?”

Wonyoung groans, her head lolling to the side as she glares at Ning through half-lidded eyes. “Shut up,” she mutters, her voice hoarse. “I’m coming. Just… give me a second.”

The girls don’t wait for her. Seulgi is the first to lean in, her lips wrapping around the head of your cock as she sucks hard, her tongue swirling around the sensitive tip. “Fuck,” you groan, your hand tangling in her hair as she takes you deeper, her throat constricting around your girth.

Irene’s hands join in, her fingers stroking the base of your shaft as she leans in to kiss and lick along the length. “So thick,” she murmurs, her voice trembling with awe.

Ning doesn’t say anything, her small hands gripping your thighs as she presses her lips to the side of your cock, kissing and sucking at the thick veins that run along the shaft. Her tongue flicks out, teasing the sensitive skin as she moans softly, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine.

The sight of them—idol royalty, kneeling at your feet, their faces flushed and their bodies trembling—is almost too much to handle. Your cock twitches in Seulgi’s mouth, your balls tightening as you fight to hold back.

Wonyoung finally drags herself off the bed, her legs shaky as she stumbles over to join the others. She drops to her knees beside Ning, her hands reaching out to stroke your thighs. “Move over,” she mutters, her voice still weak but laced with that familiar bratty edge.

Ning smirks but scoots aside, making room for Wonyoung. Without hesitation, Wonyoung leans in, her lips wrapping around the base of your cock as she sucks hard, her tongue lapping at the sensitive skin. Her eyes flick up to meet yours, that familiar glint of mischief shining through despite her exhaustion.

The girls work together in perfect harmony, their mouths and hands exploring every inch of your cock. Seulgi focuses on the head, her lips stretching around the thick tip as she sucks and swirls her tongue. Irene takes the middle, her fingers stroking and teasing as she kisses along the shaft. Ning and Wonyoung work the base, their tongues flicking and licking at the sensitive veins, their hands gripping your thighs for support.

“Fuck,” you groan, your hand tightening in Seulgi’s hair as your hips jerk forward, thrusting deeper into her mouth. “So good—all of you—”

Wonyoung pulls back just enough to smirk up at you, her lips glistening with spit. “We know,” she purrs. “Now cum for us, oppa. We’ve earned it.”

The girls are relentless, their mouths and hands working in perfect sync as they worship your cock. Seulgi’s lips stretch around the head, her throat constricting as she tries to take you deeper, but she can’t swallow more than halfway. Her eyes water, drool dripping down her chin as she gags and pulls back, gasping for air.

“Fuck—you’re so big—” she chokes out, her voice trembling as she strokes the base of your shaft with both hands.

Irene takes over, her lips wrapping around the middle as she sucks hard, her tongue swirling along the thick veins. “So much,” she murmurs, her voice muffled as she tries to take more, her elegant facade crumbling under the sheer size of you.

Ning and Wonyoung work the base, their tongues flicking and licking at your heavy balls, their hands gripping your thighs for support. Wonyoung’s lips press against your sac, her tongue darting out to tease the sensitive skin as she looks up at you with those dark, bratty eyes.

“Cum for us,” she purrs, her voice low and commanding. “Empty those balls—all over us.”

The girls’ desperation is palpable, their voices rising in a chorus of pleas as they beg for your cum.

“Please—baby—I need it—” Seulgi whimpers, her hands stroking faster.

“Cover me,” Irene moans, her lips still wrapped around your cock.

“I want it—in my mouth—” Ning gasps, her tongue flicking against your balls.

You can’t hold back any longer. Your cock throbs, your balls tightening as the pressure builds to a breaking point. “Fuck—I’m cumming—” you growl, your voice rough and strained.

The girls don’t stop, their mouths and hands working even harder as they push you over the edge. You pull your cock out of Irene’s mouth just in time, your hand stroking the shaft as the first thick rope of cum explodes from the tip.

The first shot hits Irene square in the face, painting her delicate features with a thick, white streak. Her eyes widen in shock, but she doesn’t pull away, her tongue darting out to catch the next spurt as it lands on her lips.

Seulgi is next, her mouth open as a hot, sticky load splashes across her cheeks and chin. She moans, her fingers digging into your thighs as she leans in, trying to catch more.

Ning’s turn. The cum lands on her nose and forehead, dripping down onto her lips. She giggles, her tongue flicking out to taste it as she looks up at you with wide, playful eyes.

Finally, Wonyoung. The last shot hits her right between the eyes, the thick, white fluid dripping down her nose and onto her lips. She smirks, her tongue darting out to lick it off as she looks up at you with that familiar, bratty glint.

“I told you, girls,” she purrs. “He cums like a fucking fountain.”

But it’s not over. Your cock twitches again, another thick rope of cum shooting out and splattering across the girls’ faces. Ning opens her mouth this time, catching the load on her tongue as the others laugh and smear the cum across their skin.

“Fuck—so much—” Seulgi gasps, her fingers trailing through the mess on her face.

Irene giggles, her usual elegance replaced by a playful, almost giddy energy as she wipes the cum from her cheeks and licks it off her fingers. “I love your taste,” she murmurs, her voice trembling with arousal.

Wonyoung leans in, her lips brushing against your cock as she licks up the last few drops. “Good boy,” she purrs, her voice low and teasing.

The room is a mess of sweat, cum, and laughter as the girls start playing with the thick, sticky load you’ve painted across their faces.

Wonyoung is the first to move, her fingers trailing through the mess on her cheeks before bringing them to her lips. She sucks them clean with a slow, deliberate motion, her dark eyes locked on yours as she smirks. “Mmm,” she hums, her voice low and sultry. “Tastes even better than I remember.”

Irene giggles as she wipes the cum from her nose and chin. She licks her fingers clean, her tongue swirling around each digit with a soft, approving hum. “I've never seen anyone cum so much. It's incredible,” she murmurs.

Seulgi isn’t as delicate. She scoops a glob of cum off her cheek with two fingers and shoves it into her mouth, her lips curling into a wicked grin as she swallows. “Fuck,” she groans, her voice rough and raw. “It's really a lot—how do you even produce this much?”

Ning is the most playful, her small hands smearing the cum across her face like war paint. She sticks her tongue out, showing off the thick, white fluid pooled there before swallowing it with a satisfied grin. “Yum,” she teases, her voice light and playful. “Oppa’s cum is the best.”

The girls laugh, their voices mingling in a chorus of amusement and arousal as they continue to play with the mess on their faces. Wonyoung leans over to Irene, her cum-stained lips pressing against Irene’s in a slow, messy kiss. Their tongues swirl together, the taste of your cum mingling with their own arousal as they moan softly into each other’s mouths.

Seulgi and Ning aren’t far behind. Seulgi grabs Ning’s face, her fingers digging into her cheeks as she pulls her into a deep, hungry kiss. Ning giggles against her lips, her hands tangling in Seulgi’s hair as they share the taste of your cum, their moans muffled but unmistakable.

The sight is surreal—four of the most beautiful women in the world, their faces streaked with your cum, kissing and licking it off each other with a hunger that’s almost feral. Your cock twitches weakly, still sensitive from the intense orgasm, as you watch them with a mix of awe and satisfaction.

Wonyoung finally pulls away from Irene, her lips glistening as she turns to you. She crawls over, her long legs carrying her to your side as she leans in, her lips brushing against your softened cock. “Thank you, oppa,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry. “That was… the best night ever.”

She presses one last kiss to the tip of your cock, her tongue flicking out to taste the last few drops of cum before she leans back, her bratty smirk firmly in place. “Now,” she says, her voice dripping with mischief, “who’s up for round two?”

“I’m in,” Seulgi says.

“Me to,” Irene adds.

Ning giggles. “Obviously,” she teases, her voice light and playful. “I’m not done yet.”

Wonyoung’s smirk widens, her dark eyes locking on yours. “Looks like it’s unanimous,” she purrs. “Round two it is.”

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insanechayne · 2 years ago

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~ ~ ~

#still feeling overwhelmed in some way #I had some food and have been in a somewhat quieter space #and yet something inside me still feels like I’m clawing at myself from the inside out and I can’t pinpoint what it is exactly #like yeah I’m tired and in pain and have a lot to do but that’s how things are most days so that should be normal by now #part of me feels like maybe it’s because I still can’t stop thinking about him and that’s killing me every day little by little #it doesn’t usually make me feel like this though since it’s usually more achy feeling #kinda feel like I’ve got all these words trapped inside and because I don’t know how to get them out they’re just driving me insane today #but what would I really even say if I could? nothing I could said would do anything but create a bad situation for both of us #maybe I just need to go through that bad situation and come back out of it feeling normal again idk #such a struggle trying to figure this bullshit out #I’m just gonna chalk it up to being overly tired and leave it at that #personal

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yunhoszn · 1 year ago

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save a horse, ride a cowboy

PAIRING jeong yunho x f!reader

WORD COUNT 12.25k

GENRES fluff﹒angst﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, reader is a city girl but i tried not using too many gendered terms, cowboy!yunho RAHHHHH, mentions of food, reader has a boyfriend for most of the fic (an oc) but there’s no real infidelity, reader embarrasses themselves on what i’d say is a few occasions too many, yunho is down bad, masturbation (m! and brief f! receiving), lowkey voyeurism, a really bad dad joke, horse riding scene bc i feel that’s pivotal for a cowboy fic, lots and lots of kissing, marking, teasing, vaginal fingering x2, oral sex (f! receiving) x2, multiple orgasms, very slight edging, praise, pet names (baby, babe, and princess oops), unprotected sex (BE SAFE PLS I BEG), cowgirl position, pull out method, missionary position, creampie lol, ending is cute but also kinda up for interpretation? i guess <3

SUMMARY when your grandparents decided to retire and take a summer’s long vacation in celebration, they leave their house in your care. at least you don’t have to worry about feeding the farm animals. but you do have to worry about the tall, handsome cowboy who does.

MORE AND SHE’S DONE oh my god, this fic actually pulled so much out of me i think i was the one seeing stars by the end.. 😭 but i’m so proud of it and the goals i tried meeting while writing. first of all the length??? insane for me. i can hardly get myself to write anything longer thank 5k 😞 THATS ENOUGH ABOUT ME THO,,, this fic was heavily inspired by the django performance if u couldn’t tell by the banner 😝 and i’d first like to thank the academy aka @kimsohn for encouraging me to write this and fueling my delusions ilysm maya <3 i’d also like to give a huge thank u to @bro-atz TYSM FOR BETAING AND HELPING WITH SCENES BRO ur my life saver fr <3 PLS PLS PLS REBLOG IF U ENJOYED!!

Growing up, you weren’t the biggest fan of trips to your grandparents’ farm in the rural countryside.

You were born in a big city, full of all the glitz and glam. There were bright lights that lit the skyline at night, distracting from the stars that illuminated above. The wide open space was blocked by high towers and large skyscrapers. You were accustomed to the sound of bustling pedestrians and the obnoxious honking of cars in the streets. There was seldom an evening of complete silence.

Everything was so tightly packed together, within walking distance if you didn’t feel like hopping in a car for a fifteen minute drive. You appreciated the insanity of the train station in the mornings before school, the metro so busy with students and working class individuals. You came into contact with numerous strangers throughout your day to day life.

However, every summer until you were a senior in high school was a different story.

Your parents wanted to keep you humble, you supposed, shipping you off to your grandparents’ for three months. Living in the city kept people too sheltered, too primped and polished for the real world. They wanted you to have that exposure, to experience what it was like to live without the fanciness of urbanization. The nine months out of the year that you spent in the city stunted that exposure, though.

When you’d arrive at their farm, luggage stacked like you were taking a trip to London or Paris, you felt like a glorified version of Regina George. Maybe Blair Waldorf. Elle Woods? You weren’t even rich like that. Your parents were nice, middle class people. There was just something about cow manure and the fear of stepping on a freshly laid egg that made it difficult to adjust to the setting.

It was most likely your stubbornness throughout your childhood that held you back even as you got older and more educated. You thought after graduating high school, the three-months-long “retreat” would come to an end. You’d only need to visit when necessary, maybe a week max. And that was true to an extent. During your university years, you only visited the farm around once a year. You were too consumed with school to even go home sometimes.

And then your grandparents decided to retire.

Their farm had supplied the town over with produce and other home-grown items for as long as you could remember. But they were getting older and no one in the family was willing to inherit the farm or its responsibilities. In celebration of their retirement, they planned a grand vacation to visit multiple countries. Their itinerary spanned an entire summer, just like your trips to the farm when you were younger.

Because you were the only one familiar enough with the area, they enlisted you to housesit while they were gone. You tried to get out of it, but they didn’t trust anyone else as much as you, despite your convictions about country life. So you reluctantly agreed, packing up your things to prepare for another grueling summer at the farm one last time.

But there was a bit of a setback.

”What do you mean someone’s living in the farmhouse behind their house?” You shriek into the receiver, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear as you zip up your final bag. Your mom sighs on the other end.

”Your grandma just only now told me, apparently it slipped her mind,” you can hear the sympathy in her tone. “He’s this boy who grew up in the town and he’s gonna take over the farm for them on the condition that they still live on the property. She said he shouldn’t get in your way and he’s expecting your presence. You’ll only see him if you ever actually go out to the farm and when he brings groceries to the house.”

”Great. Another thing I didn’t sign up for.” You mutter, giving your bedroom a once over to make sure you’re not forgetting anything. “Is there anything else I should know before I get there, like a secret pet or maybe a family living in the attic?”

”Watch the attitude, Y/N,” she warns, and you shut up immediately. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. You’re a grown adult and you’d rather spend your summer going out with your friends, but you already told your grandparents you would do this for them. It’ll be over before you know it.”

You sigh, nodding even though she can’t see it. At least you didn’t have to worry about caring for their farm animals. It was time to think of this as a staycation rather than torture. Sure, your friends were going to be living it up in the Bahamas for a week and your boyfriend was going to be here while you were surrounded by nothing but flat landscape for acres.

Perhaps it was good for you that there would be someone else on the property. You might’ve started to feel scared being alone in the middle of nowhere for so long. Though, your boyfriend probably won’t be the biggest fan of you staying within the vicinity of another man for three months. You’d just deal with that later.

The drive to your grandparents’ farm is actually more peaceful than anything else. Driving for long periods of time wasn’t your favorite thing to do, but doing it by yourself with nothing but your music filling your ears was a sort of therapy. It allowed you to come to terms with your fate for the summer and what it could entail, even if it wasn’t exactly what you had in mind.

Seeing the lush greenery for miles upon miles as you neared their home evoked a sense of tranquility within you. If you kept a positive outlook on your situation, you would make it through these next few months unscathed and your sanity still intact. Maybe you despised the wide open space for years when you were a kid, but now that you’re an adult, you think you could learn to appreciate it and its beauty.

As long as the guy living in the farmhouse didn’t bother you like your grandmother said, everything would be—

Oh.

You pull up in front of the house, already thrown for a loop by the tall, very handsome stranger walking his dog back from the mailbox. His dark hair obscured his eyes, a bandana tied around his neck to match with the one hanging off the Border Collie’s collar. The two turn around at the sound of your engine, stopping in their tracks once you’ve parked.

He brings a hand up to shield the sun from his eyes, watching cautiously as you park slowly. You don’t know why you’re so anxious, it’s not like you’ll be interacting with him much during your stay anyways. There’s something about his slender figure and the fact that he was so clearly dedicated to what he does upon first glance that it makes you feel shy. You suck in a sharp breath before deciding to exit your vehicle, wiping clammy palms on your denim shorts. You’re starting to regret not dressing a little cuter, a little more presentable.

His features soften upon recognizing you, the pretty granddaughter that your grandparents showed him prior to leaving for their trip. The hand sheltering his face falls to his side and he gives you a warm smile, somehow warmer and brighter than the sweltering summer sun. You’d always been told not to talk to strangers, to keep your distance for your own safety, but you can’t help mirroring his expression with a small wave.

“H-Hi,” your voice wobbles and you kind of want to die just a bit. “I’m Y/N. My grandparents mentioned you lived in the farmhouse out back, but didn’t give me a name or face to expect.”

He extends his arm out and you shake his hand, albeit slightly nervously. His eyes squint when he glances between you and his dog. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I’m Yunho, and this is Yeoreum.”

The name is fitting for the red and white colored Border Collie, her tongue sticking out as she stares up at you with big eyes that almost resemble her owner’s. You bend down to pet her, patting the soft tufts of fur on her head and appreciating her licks of excitement. Yunho laughs, whistling to catch her attention.

“Yunho and Yeoreum,” you repeat, a tiny grin on your face. “Befitting. Does she come with the property?”

“Unfortunately, no. She’s spoken for,” he teases, a pout on his features. “But she can visit whenever you’d like. Jokes aside, did you need any help moving stuff into the house?”

”That would be great, actually!” You scratch the back of your neck, lips pursing. Yunho waits for you to unlock the trunk of your car and places Yeoreum’s leash in your possession, making quick work transporting your bags inside. What was just supposed to be some light assistance, has evidently become him doing everything on his own while you stand and look pretty with his dog.

You didn’t bring too much with you since you didn’t have plans to leave while you were housesitting and your grandparents weren’t so old fashioned that they didn’t have a washing machine. Still, you felt useless allowing this stranger you’d just met to do all this manual labor on your behalf.

”Does he always do this?” You murmur to the Border Collie, falling to a seat on the lowest front porch step. She doesn’t give you a response (not that you expected her to), but pants happily in lieu of one, craning her head so you can scratch the spot behind her ear.

“You’re a guest, it’s just good hospitality for me to help.” Yunho says as he comes out of the house, stationing himself in front of you with his hands on his hips, thumbs in his belt loops.

“There’s a difference between helping and doing the work yourself. You’re just being modest,” you push yourself up to hand him Yeoreum’s leash. “But thank you anyway, that was really nice. I’m so tired from driving up here, so I think I would’ve collapsed doing all that back and forth.”

”You should go rest,” he glances at the house behind you. “There’s a whole three months of farm life ahead of you, so don’t wear your pretty little self out just yet.”

Yunho salutes to you and takes his leave, walking around your grandparents’ house toward what you assume is the farmhouse. Your eyes are wide and your cheeks feel hot, and you’re well aware that it’s not because of the summer heat. Your fingers clutch at the material of your t-shirt and you shake it to fan yourself.

It seemed like you were in for a bumpy ride these next few months. But like you reiterated prior to arriving, everything would be just fine so long as you and farm boy went your separate routes and lived your separate lives.

Yeah. Things would be alright. You hope.

It’s a week into your stay on your grandparents’ farm when you bump into Yunho again.

You’re toweling your neck after getting out of the shower, heading into the kitchen to make yourself another bowl of cereal for breakfast. So far the only downside has been your inability to cook a decent meal. Takeout or your boyfriend sleeping over were usually your saving grace, but without having either of those options, you’ve stuck to microwaveable things.

The sight of Yunho unloading groceries onto the counter has you squealing and nearly jumping out of your own skin. He flinches at your volume, knocking over the bag of rice resting against the vase in the center. Thankfully it was still sealed shut, if not there would’ve been a mess of rice grains all over the island counter. His clumsiness has you slapping a palm over your mouth to silence your giggles, not wanting to embarrass him.

”Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you…” You apologize sheepishly, folding your towel over your arm and placing it on a barstool nearby.

“N-No, you’re fine! I shouldn’t have just let myself in, it’s kinda just a habit. You deserve your privacy without having to worry about whether or not I’m gonna barge in unannounced.” He dismisses your apology with a wave of his hand. “I’ll just put these up for you and then I’ll be on my way.”

”Can I help?” You waddle over to him, fingers laced behind your back. “I’d feel bad watching you put my groceries away for me after going out and getting them.”

Yunho gestures for you to occupy the space beside him with a small smile that takes solace at the corner of his mouth. The two of you do everything in complete silence, still not entirely used to each other’s presence because of the lack of crossing paths. As you’re finishing up, you start grabbing the items you need for your cereal. He raises an eyebrow at you.

”You don’t want something a little more filling?” He suddenly questions, jutting his chin at your bowl.

”I would love that if I knew how to cook,” you laugh. “Ironic isn’t it? The granddaughter of two farmers can’t cook to save their life.”

Yunho shakes his head with a chuckle, ruffling his hair. “Well, I don’t have to feed the horses for another hour if you’d like for me to whip up something better than a bowl of cereal.”

“Really?” Your eyebrows furrow. Despite growing up with the mindset that you were above the farm life your grandparents tried to impose on you, you hated feeling like you were coming across as entitled. You didn’t want Yunho to think you were lazy or that you were too good. “You don’t have to do that. I can survive on instant ramen and cereal, I swear.”

”Y/N,” he says your name with a certain authority to it, and you’ve never loved the sound of your name coming out of someone else’s mouth so much before. “I want to. I’m not the world’s greatest chef or anything, but I have a couple tricks up my sleeve.”

”Okay, then,” you nod, taking a seat at the island. You watch in awe as he dances around the kitchen and prepares something for you. It’s weird, not in the sense that you feel awkward around this complete stranger, but because you feel the opposite. You feel comfortable around him, like you’ve known him for a while. It’s almost like Yunho has been a casual part of your life for much longer than a week. He’s easy to get along with, easy to mold into what you’re used to.

And that’s weird because you have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who cooks dinner for you most nights, but somehow has never made you feel this taken care of. It throws you off. That should definitely not be the case. How is this man doing this in one week and your boyfriend couldn’t in two years?

The guilt settles in the pit of your stomach quickly. Sure, your boyfriend might’ve had a habit of forgetting important dates and didn’t give you half as much attention as he should’ve, but did that warrant the emotions brewing in your chest? Could that excuse this notion that maybe it was time to finally call it quits?

You zone out as Yunho finishes cooking your breakfast, too inside of your head to even fawn over the doting and slight coddling he was doing. Maybe you need to have a long conversation with Seojun about your relationship and where you want it to go. Perhaps it was a nice idea to invite him out to visit the farm, it could do you both some good.

“Ta-da!” Yunho holds out a plate to you, the sparkle in his eyes effectively pushing out any thoughts of your boyfriend and the shame that was picking at you. You can’t help but reciprocate his expression when you see how delicious the food looks.

He’d made you omurice, the ketchup on top in cute squiggly lines to form whiskers and a little dog face. You accept the plate gratifyingly, your fingers brushing as you do so. He smiles shyly, eyeing you carefully while you take the first bite. You don’t remember the last time you had a home cooked breakfast, accustomed to the occasional muffin at the coffee shop near your house.

”’Not the world’s greatest chef’ my ass,” you grumble, pouting at his humbleness and his inability to be bad at anything. “I might just ask you to have breakfast with me every morning if you can chef it up this well.”

That melodic laugh of his rings in your ears, his elbows resting on the island and his chin in his palms. “I’m sure Yeoreum would appreciate a companion who isn’t me.”

“How long have you had her?” You ask, shoveling more omurice into your mouth. If you weren’t so hungry and so appeased by how delicious it was, you’d feel bad for ruining his hard work. The ketchup no longer looked like a dog, but rather a splatter of red all over your plate.

“Almost four years now. I had her for a year before I met your grandparents. She adores them, so it’s no surprise that she likes you too.” He has this fond gaze in his eyes as he talks about his beloved Border Collie and it makes your heart ache.

The fact that he has such a good relationship with your grandparents seals the deal for you. Well, it would seal the deal if you were single. Yunho is like the ideal man that every parent would want their daughter to bring home. He knows how to cook, knows how to clean. He’s adept around the house, skilled in yard work and other random jobs like fixing leaky pipes and installing new appliances. He’s gentle, but doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty.

Your parents would never meet him, though. After the summer was over, you’d be back in Seoul and he would still be here, a distant memory. You forcibly laugh away the thought, excusing it as your response to his words and continuing the conversation about his dog.

Perhaps this stay would be harder to get through than you thought.

As the weeks pass you by, you find yourself becoming more and more infatuated with Jeong Yunho.

Cooking breakfast for you in the morning has become a regular thing. Monitoring him at the stove with sleepy eyes and a mug of fresh coffee in your hands has ingrained itself into your routine. Yeoreum called the spot beneath your stool her own now, laying there as her owner made your food. You think the transition from seeing him as just this comforting presence, this kind individual, to wanting something more was almost too smooth.

Especially right now as you sit on the back porch sipping on some lemonade, admiring the cowboy as he transfers bales of hay from the bed of his pickup truck to the pigpen and the cattle pen. He pauses in between trips, stripping off his flannel and tying it around his waist. He lifts the hem of the white tank top he’s wearing and uses it to wipe sweat from his forehead, revealing the toned abdomen he had been hiding from you up until now.

You feel like you’re going insane, trying to pretend like you’re reading your book as you not so subtly gawk at his muscles straining with each bale he lifts. It’s crazy really, the effect he has on you doing his fucking job. You’ve made it a habit to sit out here and stare at him under the guise of various other things. Aside from being borderline obsessive, it’s horrible because you’re still very much in a relationship.

Most people would feel a hell of a lot worse than you do, like their entire world was crumbling between their fingertips just for finding someone else attractive. But for some reason, as time has continued to roll on, that guilt— that self-preservation— has faded. You’re dipping into another emotion that you’re too scared to explore.

Yunho takes a break from his labor to guzzle down a bottle of water, his chest heaving up and down from exertion. Had you been paying attention to anything other than the view of the handsome man, you would’ve noticed the glass sliding out of your grasp, the condensation becoming far too dense to keep a solid grip on the cup. In the midst of drooling over him, your lemonade falls to the ground with a loud clanging noise.

Your reflexes are only swift enough to save your book, but the drink spills everywhere else and you wince at how embarrassing the situation is. You hurry inside to grab a towel before he can see the mortification enveloping your features. He seemed like the observant type, like one scan of your face could tell him everything he needs to know without a single word exchanged. Your fingers curl around the edge of the counter, blowing a raspberry while you attempt to regulate your blood pressure.

Through the window above the kitchen sink, you make out a confused Yunho, brows furrowed as he looks in the direction of the house. He worried over you entirely too much, particularly when you take into account the fact that all you did was think about him in manners not necessarily safe for work. Maybe you were just delirious. That was the only logical explanation for why you’re spiraling.

The high temperatures of the summer coupled with your surroundings are contributing to your change in behavior. Yes. That made sense. You weren’t crazy.

With a bit more reprieve, you’re able to grab a tea towel and head back outside to clean up your mess. (Not unaccompanied by a couple glances in Yunho’s direction, but that’s fine. Perfectly healthy even. It’s normal to check up on a friend. At least, that’s what you tell yourself, but who’s holding you accountable?)

“You know you’ve been making me breakfast every morning without asking for anything in return,” you speak up one morning, chin resting on the island. “Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

Yunho purses his lips as he hands you your plate. “Nah, I like cooking for you.”

You try to ignore the way that has your heart fluttering in your chest, try to ignore the warmth blooming beneath your skin. Your eyes glance down at your food to avoid eye contact, bringing your chopsticks up to your lips. “Okay, well I wanna do something for you.”

Despite mumbling the words, he hears you anyway and smiles to himself as he takes a sip from his mug. He rolls up the sleeves of his denim button up, reaching down to scratch behind Yeoreum’s ear, the area that you’ve learned is her favorite. She pants joyfully, jumping on his leg excitedly. He looks between the two of you.

”Missy here needs a bath,” he says, cooing at her. “I was gonna give her one later, after I cleaned out the stables, but if you don’t mind doing it.”

”I’d do just about anything for that precious girl,” you nod enthusiastically. “Consider it done.”

This is how you end up out back, dog shampoo in one hand and the water hose in the other.

Yeoreum’s signature bandana and collar lay on one of the rocking chairs on the porch, the dog looking so different without her accessories as you prepare to bathe her. You wet her fur generously, squeezing enough shampoo into your palm to lather it on. Compared to your childhood pets, she’s pretty well behaved.

She’s probably one of the only dogs who’s ever actually enjoyed taking a bath, sitting still for you while you scrub and rinse and repeat. You take your time with cleaning her, wanting to make sure you do your best as a thank you for every plate Yunho has ever made you. Usually, this isn’t something you would jump at the opportunity to do. Somehow, being back at the farm this past month or so has done everything your parents tried to do when you were younger.

It could’ve had to do with the desensitization of being here every summer for so long that it just never stuck when you were grade school age. But now, fully grown and experiencing this all over again on your own, with new faces at your side, it’s like you’re being exposed to something different. You can see why your mom and dad didn’t want the city life to become a dependency.

You preferred the view of cabs and cafés over cows and chickens in the past, but now you found a sense of familiarity in them. You’d always want to go home as soon as you got here. Unlike other kids, you wanted your summer to be over as quickly as possible. You couldn’t imagine going home after this, though. This unveiled attachment to the farm you detested when you were younger could only be accredited to one person, and it was a little frightening.

He constantly brought out parts of you that you didn’t know existed. This enigma, the one that emphasized how big of a role he’s fulfilling in the short period of time you’ve been here, drills itself into your brain every day. You knew you had to acknowledge it sooner or later, but it was just less of a hassle to act like it wasn’t screaming at you. Your fear of change was a more pertinent issue to ignore, so you let it consume all else.

While getting lost in your thoughts, Yeoreum starts shaking and startles you, causing your hold on the hose to loosen, water spraying everywhere. The diversion has you losing your footing and slipping in the mud. You shriek, though it does nothing to block the stream that drenches you, your clothes getting wet. The universe decides it’s not on your side, because you happened to wear a white shirt. Why you chose to do that when you knew you were bathing a dog, you have no clue, but it was a little too late for regrets.

Yeoreum jumps out of the basin you had her in and runs to the farmhouse just as Yunho’s walking out, fresh from the shower. You forgot that he was cleaning the stables at the same time you were giving the Border Collie her bath, but now you’re starting to wish you waited until afterward just in case you needed the assistance. And well, you definitely needed the assistance.

Plucking the tail end of the mishap, Yunho’s initial reaction is to laugh at your misfortune, but the closer he gets to the scene, the laughter dies out in his throat. Your top is sheer enough that he can map out the outline of your black bra. It leaves very little to the imagination and he thinks he might fall to his knees right here.

Since your grandparents told him that you’d be house sitting while they were away and proudly showcased a photo of you, he’s been enthralled by you. You had the face of an angel, or maybe a really enticing demon, he hasn’t cogitated it much yet.

He swallows thickly, hoping to keep his composure as he makes his way to you. His hand is a little shaky when it reaches to take the hose from you, squeezing his eyes closed and switching off the water. He stays there for a few seconds to mentally prep himself for an up-close-and-personal look at you, even going as far as holding his breath.

“Uh— you— um— you should go inside and dry off before you catch a cold,” Yunho keeps his eyes cast downward. He’s grateful that you don’t note how red the tips of his ears are, or how he thinks the sky is suddenly much more interesting than your face.

Your head cocks to the side in confusion. “What do you mean ‘before I catch a cold’? It’s, like, a million degrees out.”

“The temperature drops at night and the sun’s setting soon. I’ll handle it from here. Yeoreum ran off, so I gotta chase after her anyway and I don’t think you want her to soak you more than she already has.” He’s insistent on shooing you away and getting you inside of the house. You huff.

”Okay… If you say so…”

Reluctantly, you spin around and traverse back. The draft of the air conditioning has you shivering, rubbing up and down your arms as you enter the bathroom to inspect the damage. Your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets when you finally see yourself. No wonder Yunho was so adamant on staving you off like you were the plague.

In your defense, you didn’t think the hose won the battle by that much. You assumed you’d just gotten everything above your shoulders wet, but no. You were practically doused head to toe. And the clear display of your brassiere under your clothes was the last thing on your mind.

He was stronger than you. Actually, he was a more respectful person than you. You would’ve gawked at him shamelessly if the roles were reversed. But at least you’re self aware! Right? The first step in recognizing that you have a problem, is admitting that you have a problem. That’s what you think they say in those addiction commercials, but you could be wrong.

Wow. Now you were comparing him to drugs. Though, you suppose there isn’t that huge of a difference. Both had equal success rates in terms of getting people high and then making it hard to wane off their effects.

You really had to quit it with the metaphor usage.

It’s around midnight that night when the lightbulb in the bathroom goes out, halting you from finishing your bedtime routine.

You’re exhausted to say the least, face damp from washing it and one of those fuzzy hairbands with the animal ears perched on your head. You were ready to crash out, but there were still a couple things you needed to do before that. It was proving to be a little difficult in the pitch black bathroom. The window above the shower was too narrow to provide any sufficient moonlight.

With a low grumble, you shuffle into your slippers and make the short trek from your grandparents’ house to Yunho in the farmhouse. You hug yourself when a strong breeze blows past, your flimsy t-shirt and sleep shorts doing hardly anything to block the cool summer night’s air.

A piece of you feels a little bad for bothering him so late, but you have no idea how to change a lightbulb. You don’t even know where the lightbulbs are. Besides, you think you’d electrocute yourself if you made an attempt to do it on your own.

You huff out a sigh and bring your knuckles up to knock at his door, waiting patiently for a response. He’s not asleep, you know this because he’s mentioned that his internal clock doesn’t turn off until two in the morning. Circadian rhythms were an odd concept, so to each their own.

“Yunho! It’s Y/N! Open up!”

When a few minutes have passed, you try the knob. Maybe it was a bit… too presumptuous of you to enter his home without explicit permission. Yes, you’d known each other for the better part of a month and a half, and yes, you’d gotten very close in that timeframe, but did that constitute your actions?

Whether or not the answer to that question was a yes or a no, you really wish you would’ve just waited outside. As you venture further in search of the cowboy, you stumble upon something you shouldn’t have.

Standing in the hallway on the other side of his bedroom, the door ajar at least an inch, you catch a glimpse of him on his bed. That white tank top you’re so used to seeing him in is between his teeth, eyebrows knit together in pure pleasure as he fists his cock with a purpose. His nostrils are flared and whiny moans escape from behind the fabric.

His head falls back every now and then, eyes fluttering shut when he runs his thumb over the slit. He’s so focused that he doesn’t notice you, too entranced with chasing his high. Your lips part as you watch him fuck up into his hand, his shirt slipping from his mouth when he groans out a curse.

Just as quickly as you become distracted by the sight of Yunho jerking off, you become aware of what you’re doing. You flee the scene before you get yourself caught, exiting the farmhouse as quietly as you can. The lightbulb can wait until morning, it wasn’t that important, honestly. You’re in a daze the entire walk back to your grandparents house, goosebumps littering your arms and the image of him in such an obscene state burned into your brain.

You fall backwards onto your bed, staring at the ceiling in hopes of willing away the path your mind is beginning to wander towards. All you can think about is the sight of him so desperate for release, large hand wrapped around his dick, abdomen contracting with need. You know you weren’t supposed to see, weren’t supposed to bear witness to something so personal.

It’s difficult to push out the nasty, inappropriate thoughts clouding your head. His expressions contorted into absolute bliss. His slender fingers could probably do so much more than your own, could probably reach places you’d never even dreamed of. And fuck, his dick, prettier and bigger than any other you’ve ever seen.

Your chest blushes with heat, an embarrassment washing over you when you realize you’re turned on. You should feel terrible for intruding on Yunho’s privacy like that, especially without him knowing, but all you can do is want him more than you already do. That craving for something deeper, carnal, fans the flame engulfing you, dragging you further into the sick and twisted hell you’ve created for yourself.

Yunho has been nothing but welcoming, kind and gentle with you, someone he didn’t even know the name of until last month. Someone who’s done everything in their power to repress this lifestyle for so long. And for some reason, it just comes so easily with him. You don’t feel forced to enjoy living on the farm. He makes you laugh and puts a smile on your face effortlessly. He has you wondering if life can actually be this simple.

But when all is said and done, there will be somebody else waiting for you back home. Somebody who doesn’t know how to whip up omurice with freshly laid eggs. Somebody who isn’t even a dog person, who thinks pets are nuisances. Somebody who doesn’t live in the farmhouse behind your grandparents’. It’s a bitter pill to swallow.

If you touch yourself with tears streaming down your cheeks to the thought of the man who has eyes that resemble the night sky, well that’s between you and whatever higher being exists out there.

You sit across from Yunho with bated breath, afraid that if you opened your mouth he would know your dirty secret. You avoid his eyes for the same reason, like one good look at you would reveal what you were trying to hide.

Yunho himself was doing his best to pretend like he hadn’t masturbated to the thought of you last night. He liked to think he was good at keeping his feelings under wraps. It wasn’t like he didn’t know you were in a relationship, he’s heard you on the phone before. He stays silent as he fries rice in a pan and has some bread in the toaster. The only sounds in the kitchen are sizzling and the pants coming from Yeoreum under your stool.

In the time that you’ve been here, never once has it been awkward between you like this. The conversation usually doesn’t stop flowing, rolling on and on and filtering into things that don’t pertain to the original subject. He rarely has his back to you for too long, turning over his shoulder to shoot you a grin every here and now.

Both of you go to speak at the same time as a means of salvaging the morning from eternal strain. You stare at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. Truly, you were two birds of a feather, or however that saying goes.

”Sorry, I don’t know why I’m being so quiet today,” Yunho says, though he knows it’s a lie. “I guess I had a long night.”

”Oh, that reminds me,” his mention of the previous night has you recalling the reason you went out to the farmhouse in the first place. “The light in my bathroom went out, do you think you can fix it for me?”

“Yeah, for sure,” he begins preparing your plate. “Actually, I have this joke about lightbulbs. You wanna hear it?”

Your lips curl into a smile, already attempting to hold back your laughter. With a raised eyebrow, you respond, “What is it?”

”What did the lightbulb say to the light switch?” He asks nonchalantly, taking a bite from his own piece of toast. You’re failing miserably at acting like you don’t think the joke is funny, although he hasn’t even told you the punchline yet.

”I dunno, Yunho, what did the lightbulb say to the light switch?”

“‘You turn me on.’”

There’s a pregnant pause as the joke resonates and you can’t stop yourself from cackling at how stupid it is. He joins in, but mostly because your laughter is contagious. His chest swells with pride at his successful landing, feeling like he’s on top of the world just for bringing a smile to your face. God, he was down tremendously bad.

Your spoon clatters onto the counter as you lean over, a hand clapped over your mouth as your boisterous laughing simmers into a giggle. Yunho leans into you slightly, matching your energy as he munches on his toast. This is what has you conflicted, so at war with yourself. The proximity should have you pulling away, but something about him always reels you in, despite the consequences that await.

And unfortunately, those consequences come to a head today.

“Are you fucking serious, Y/N?”

You and Yunho jump back, whipping towards the source of the voice. Seojun stands there, his bags at his feet and his face crestfallen, disbelief written all over it. He shakes his head and turns to leave, you stumbling off of the barstool to follow behind him. The guilt you’ve only ever felt momentarily settles deep in your chest and deep in your stomach, though you technically haven’t done anything wrong.

Your abruptness startles Yeoreum and she’s up in a heartbeat, tailing behind you curiously. Yunho has to rush to stop her, but a part of himself wants to do the same. No matter how much he likes you, he’s never wanted to be the cause of your relationship falling apart. He wanted you organically, not like this.

”Seojun! Wait!” You call after him, holding up a hand to block out the harsh sunlight, tripping over your slippers. He scoffs.

“What am I waiting for? You to spew some bullshit about how nothing’s going on between the two of you? I’m not fucking stupid, Y/N. I’m not blind.” He pops open his trunk and throws his bags in haphazardly.

”You’re being unreasonable,” you exclaim, rounding the car so you’re directly in front of him. “There is nothing going on. We’ve just gotten to know each other since we live in the same vicinity. Did you want me to stay here for three months and hole myself away with no other human contact?”

“He was just supposed to be the guy who lived in the farmhouse. He wasn’t supposed to bother you. That’s what you told me, remember?” Seojun is losing his patience, something that has always been the root of the problem when you’ve gotten into past arguments. “How do you expect me to react when I come to surprise you and see you being so close to another man?”

“I was laughing at a joke he told me. You’re making this a bigger deal than it is and blowing everything completely out of proportion. I’m sorry that it never came up that we became friends, but I didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve never once cheated on you in the three years we’ve been together and for you to accuse me of that is so fucking low of you.” You’re not going to cry, not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s won. He thrives off of seeing your vulnerability and you won’t let him have it.

“I saw the way he was looking at you,” he seethes, balling his hands into fists at his sides. “I know that look because that’s how I used to look at you.”

A laugh devoid of any humor leaves you and he blinks. “That’s how you ‘used to’ look at me? When did you stop? And why am I just finding this out?”

”That’s not— that isn’t what I meant, Y/N—“

”No, Seojun. You did,” you glance away from him, nipping at the inside of your cheek. “We’re grasping for straws. We aren’t going anywhere anymore and we haven’t for a while now. That’s why we're standing here arguing over this. I just want to know why you didn’t just tell me.”

”I’m too complacent,” he sighs, breathing through his nose. “I was too comfortable with you and I didn’t know how to let you go or walk away. But you’re right, there isn’t anything for us to save, and it seems like we’re both ready to move on.”

“What does that mean?”

“I saw how you were looking at him, too. You might not have acted on it, but you have feelings for him. I’m not gonna stay and hold you back.” Seojun unlocks his car, opening the door. “And for what it’s worth, you won’t be wasting your time.”

You don’t respond, instead humming and letting him drive off. Once his car is far enough out of your view, you go back into the house. There’s an indescribable emotion that hostages you, binding your wrists and tying you down metaphorically. You can’t seem to shake it.

Yunho is still in the kitchen, sitting on the floor with Yeoreum to keep her calm. He gazes up at you expectantly and you feel the tears you were suppressing from Seojun bubbling up. If you weren’t going to cry in front of your (now ex) boyfriend, you definitely weren’t going to cry in front of him.

With a trembling exhale, you force yourself to say, “I need to be alone.”

He understands empathetically, clipping on Yeoreum’s leash and leaving the house in the same breath. That in itself has you crying like a baby the moment you’re all by yourself. You hold your face in your hands, body shuddering with each sob you release.

I saw the way he was looking at you.

I saw how you were looking at him, too.

You had a lot to think about, and everything always seemed to circle back to Jeong Yunho.

A couple days escape you before you register you haven’t seen much of Yunho. After your breakup with Seojun, you really did need a bit of room to process it all, but you hadn’t realized just how much you depended on the cowboy’s presence until you were missing it.

You hadn’t meant to push him away, if that’s how he saw it. A night of bawling your eyes out with a pint of ice cream and The Vow was enough to cure you. However, it appears that he thought you needed more, going as far as putting a pin in your daily breakfast ritual. You aren’t sure how to extend an olive branch when you weren’t even trying to cause a rift between you in the first place.

Being with someone for three years may not seem like a lot, but that fraction of your life is stuck with you, like a thumbtack that refuses to come out of the wall. You’d had boyfriends before Seojun, but they weren’t nearly as serious. There weren't formal introductions between parents, no late night conversations that bleed into early mornings, no sleepovers and quick kisses before work.

Of course, after a certain point, those had just become habitual. You weren’t doing them because they evoked a sense of love or care anymore, but rather because you were familiar with them. It was safer to continue the pattern of waking up and falling asleep to Seojun on the other side of the bed, the intrusion of sunlight and the cacophony of traffic outside your window, even if you didn’t really want to.

And then you came here.

Somehow, returning to your grandparents’ farm was exactly what you needed to break through that cycle. As much as you would love to attest it to your location and discovering the appreciation your family wanted you to feel for it, you know the real reason. It’s all thanks to a certain cowboy.

Yunho’s feelings for you run far deeper than he could’ve imagined. He doesn’t know the extent of what happened with you and Seojun, but he thinks putting distance between you is better in the long run anyway. On the off chance you’re still together, he wants to preserve his heart. He’s handed it to someone else too easily in the past and he doesn’t want to make that mistake with you if you don’t feel the same.

But even on the off chance that you’ve broken up, he still wants to stop himself from falling further and harder than he already has. Without ill will, he doubts that you would give up the life you have in the city for this, for him. He’ll be perpetually chained to being a faint imprint on your memory of the summer. You’ll think back to the months you spent here and he’ll have played only a minor role.

It was wishful thinking, too hopeful of him to presume this would lead to a happy ending. You were from different worlds, led different lives. It was time for him to be realistic. And that meant implementing the space that was supposed to exist between you from the get go.

Though, you make it difficult when he bumps into you on the way back from the mailbox. Déjà vu, anyone?

Yeoreum is excited to see you, jumping onto her haunches to lick your face when you kneel to her level. You giggle, squeezing one eye shut as you balance yourself and hold her still so her weight doesn’t clamber you both onto the ground. Your fingers pet to top of her head softly as you coo, “Who’s a good girl?”

Yunho physically winces when his chest tightens at the sight of his two favorite girls. The word ‘distance’ bounces around his head like a pinball, reminding him what he’s supposed to be doing. He just can’t bring himself to walk away. Especially when you look at him with those pretty eyes of yours.

“Hey…” You start, steeling your tone to ensure it’s even. “I’m sorry if it seemed like I was avoiding you or something. I needed some time to myself to figure things out. It wasn’t my intention to shut you out and put you on the back burner.”

”No, it’s okay. I had to figure stuff out on my own, too,” he uses his bandana to dab at the sweat perspiring on his forehead. “Did you sort through whatever you needed to?”

“I did,” you nod, standing upright. “Seojun and I broke up, so I had to sit with my feelings for a bit. We’ve been together for so long, I think I needed to remember what it was like to be without him, and then I realized that’s basically what I’ve been doing since I came here.”

”Oh.” Yunho’s lips form an ‘O’ shape, hands dragging down the sides of his pants. “I’m sorry— um— about your breakup.”

”Don’t be,” you smile, dismissing his sympathy. “It was a long time coming, honestly. We weren’t really in the relationship wholeheartedly anymore. There wasn’t a point in stringing it along, you know? But that’s enough about me, did you figure your own things out?”

”I thought I did,” he says, which is true considering he’d been mulling over what to do with his emotions subsequent to your argument with your ex. “And then I kinda steered off course. It’s alright, though, I think I like the new conclusion I’ve come to a lot better.”

You might be on the same page now, but there was an entire discussion that had to happen to solidify that. Following a very emotionally charged past couple days, you could do without that today. You’re both just glad that the air is cleared and you can resume building the bond that began forming the moment you stepped foot onto the farm, no restrictions whatsoever.

“Have you ever ridden a horse?”

You glance up from your book, this time genuinely reading it as Yunho fed the chickens and cleaned up their coop. He towers over you while he asks the question, his shadow thwarting off any direct sunlight. Your nose scrunches.

“When I was in, like, middle school? It’s been a minute,” you answer, making sure to bookmark the page you stopped at. “Why?

”Would you let me teach you how to do it again?” He nips at his lower lip, like he’s nervous you’ll say no. The truth of the matter is you’d say yes even if he asked you to commit arson, which is kind of a problem.

“That sounds fun,” you shrug. “What time should I be ready?”

”Uh, now?”

Okay, so sitting on a horse did not seem this scary when you were twelve.

It probably had to do with you being fearless and whatnot, but also because you did whatever your grandparents asked just to appease them. The faster you got off the damn horse, the faster you could go back inside and situate yourself in front of the TV. They thought they were making progress with you, but really you were outsmarting the outsmarters.

Sweat glazes on the underside of your hands, disrupting the security of your grasp on the reins. Yunho thought it would be wiser if he stayed on foot, guiding you and the horse around the perimeter of the pen. You hoped you didn’t look as afraid as you were, but you’re certain the slight quiver of your bottom lip gives it away.

“You’re doing fine, Y/N,” he reassures, maintaining a comforting amount of eye contact with you.

”Am I? Or does it just seem that way because you’re pulling the horse?” You quip, gripping the reins tighter when it steps over a rock and you sway a little. Your tone is laced with sarcasm, something Yunho hasn’t heard much of from you since you’ve met, but he thinks it’s cute that you resort to violence when you’re scared.

You notice the quirk of his mouth and how he’s trying not to laugh at your terror. It pisses you off solely because his humor isn’t unwarranted. You are being a bit over dramatic. He unties his bandana from around his neck and tosses it to you. “So you don’t callus your hands.”

He’s too thoughtful, too considerate for his own good, but that’s what roped you in. Even when you met for the first time, he had you figured out. The longer you stare at him, the more you realize just how perfect he is. If you were still in school and you were tasked with writing an essay about the summer you spent here, you’re sure the words would flow onto the pages flawlessly, without skipping a beat. Your prose would be so beautifully written, that even the most notable authors would be envious of your experience.

The only downside of this was the fact that time was beginning to seep through your fingers. There was mutuality in your feelings for each other, that was almost unequivocal. You were both just hesitant in taking that first leap. The uncertainty lied with that goodbye at the end of August, the one that’ll hurt a lot more than it was supposed to. But you know that postponing your unceremonious declaration of feelings would just do more harm than anything else.

One consistency you’ve singled out since coming back to the farm is this common theme of divine intervention, or fate, whatever you want to call it. Right when you’re on the brink of an epiphany, you’re always forcefully shoved into it, like a freight train crashing into its platform traveling at full speed. This moment is no different.

Yeoreum barking at a squirrel on the other side of the pen scares the horse who’s back you were currently on. It bucks up and you release the reins in alarm. You fall quickly, but Yunho’s quicker, catching you in his arms like it’s been a childhood dream of his to be a superhero. He searches your face for any indication that you might be hurt, a hand coming up to cup your cheek.

The eyes you’ve grown to adore examine your own with so much care that you find yourself melting in his hold. Your face instinctively leans into his palm, fingers still clutching the fabric of his shirt like he may drop you.

It’s nearly second-nature to minimize the gap between you.

You never understood what novelists meant when they described kissing scenes. And you think that’s because you’d never truly had a kiss like this before. It was as if they were all talking about this second, this blip in time. The sparks that shoot from where your lips meet to the tips of your fingers, the thump-thump-thump of your heartbeat in your ears, the sensation of never wanting to escape, never wanting to stop.

Yunho’s hand snakes behind your head, tangling in your hair to deepen the connection. It’s hungry. It’s desperate. It’s too much. It’s not enough. Everything that had been stacking on top of each other was leading to this, the collision that rivaled the Big Bang. You whine into his lips, an invitation but also an inquiry.

He parts from you just so he can catch his breath, his forehead resting on yours. “Can I take you inside?”

You nod fervently. “Yes. Please.”

He wastes no time hauling you to the farmhouse. His grip on your wrist is gentle as he pulls you into his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed and trapping you between his legs. Your restraint wears thin, nimble fingers fumbling with the rest of the buttons on his denim shirt. You push it off of his shoulders, a bit shell shocked when you discover that he’s wearing a regular t-shirt as opposed to his usual tank top.

“You would pull something like this today of all days,” you laugh breathily, untucking the shirt from his pants. He reciprocates the sentiment, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck while you undress him.

“Is it evil of me to say I was sorta hoping this would happen?” He speaks into your exposed collarbone, nipping, sucking, biting the skin. Your appreciative sigh goads him, his tongue gliding across the abused surface as a form of relief.

“Mm-mm,” you hum, shaking your head, fast to yank off his shirt and run your nails down his abdomen. “I’ve been waiting for this for too long.”

“Yeah?” Yunho flips the two of you easily so you’re the one on the bed now. He pushes up the hem of your shirt, pecking your stomach to your clavicle as he shows more and more of your skin until the fabric is removed from your body. “Can’t believe I finally get to have you.”

You involuntarily moan, completely untouched and because of his words alone. Every part of you feels like it’s lit ablaze, burning with want and need and everything in between. This ran further than just what-ifs and late night fantasies. Your relationship with Yunho tiptoed on the edge of something you’ve never known before, and that makes this so much more special.

He glances up at you when his fingers reach for the button of your shorts, a silent ask for permission. You give him the green light and hold yourself up on your elbows, watching with your breathing trapped in your throat as he rids of your panties along with them. His hands push your knees to your chest, kissing your inner thighs and right around the place you need him most, but never there.

“Yunho…” You warn, but it comes across as a broken whimper rather than an establishment of authority. He laughs and then his lips are pressing to your clit, a sweet kiss that has all rationality taking a vacation from your brain. Your head tips back and you fist at the sheets.

He drags his tongue through your folds, swirling it around the sensitive bundle of nerves each time it makes its return. It’s almost criminal how good it feels to have his mouth on your cunt, eyes already heavy lidded with pleasure. He sucks on your clit at the same time he decides to insert a finger into your entrance, curling it experimentally just because he can. Like you predicted, it reaches that spongy spot at the crook of your pussy, brushing it once he’s sure he’s found it.

While you walked in on him fucking his fist, the only thing on his mind was you. He was so absorbed in the mental image of what you would look like beneath him, wiggling, writhing, squirming with indulgence. His social awareness was at a zero. This replayed over and over until he came, his thoughts so vivid he could’ve swore it was real.

But this, the actual thing, was so much better; his forearm pinning your hips down, his middle finger curling and uncurling inside of you, his mouth working overtime to inch you towards the edge of that steep cliff. He moans when your eyebrows practically coalesce, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. You look so gorgeous like this, so disoriented all because of the bliss he was providing. The vibrations of the sound have you arching your back, uncontrollable whines running from your mouth.

“Feel good?” Yunho asks, disconnecting his mouth and replacing it with his other hand, ring and middle digits swiping across your clit with practiced pressure.

“Mhm,” you nod frantically, eyes on the brink of rolling to the back of your head. “Feels so good, Yun… Just like that, ‘m almost there.”

That’s all he needs to hear, switching his hand and mouth once again, focusing on alternating harsh and gentle sucks of your clit, adding a second finger to pump in and out of your hole. The doubled change in stimulation knocks the wind out of you, the precipice of your orgasm so close you can taste it. You’d never been brought to the summit this early in the past, and you think Yunho deserves some sort of reward for being the first to do so.

You’d worry about that later though, because you’re blindsided by it before you can even conjure your next thought. You cum with a cry, tears springing to your eyes from the immense amount of ecstasy coursing through your veins, swimming in your bloodstream. Yunho coos at you, not stopping until you’ve relaxed in his hold. “That’s it, baby, you’re doing so well.”

The praise makes your head feel airy, like empty space unoccupied by anything. If you paid attention in chemistry, then you’d know that’s highly impossible, but you didn’t. The only chemistry you even remotely care about is the one between you and Yunho, the tension that has piled higher and higher for days on end until its crescendo now.

You sit up to kiss him roughly, savoring the taste of yourself on his lips. He smiles into it, a hand raising to caress the underside of your jaw. He climbs onto the bed, scooting you up so you’re positioned by the pillows. It doesn’t take much effort for your bodies to swap, his back to the headboard. You clumsily seat yourself on his lap, a knee on either side of him and sighing wistfully when his mouth trails down your throat and sternum, slender fingers sneaking behind you to unclasp your bra.

He aids you in removing his pants, still simultaneously prioritizing kisses all over your bare chest. When you’re both fully naked, you take your time admiring his cock. It’s just as pretty as you remember, long and thick. Your hand wraps around it gingerly, stroking the length as you lean down to kiss him again. You don’t think you could ever get enough of his lips on your own.

“I’m not exactly getting any action over here, so I don’t have any condoms,” he says into your kiss, voice no louder than a whisper.

“That’s okay,” you run your fingers through his hair. “Wanna feel you anyways, all of you.”

”Fuck, Y/N, you can kill a man with those words.” He groans, nails digging into your hips. You giggle, but it’s interrupted by him sitting you fully, his dick slipping through your lower lips. A whine brushes his ear when the tip catches your clit, repeating the movement until you can’t stay still.

The closest you’ll ever get to Heaven on earth is Yunho’s cock pushing inside of you, filling you up so deliciously you think you could die like this. Your jaw slackens, hands coming up to support yourself on his shoulders. Even if this is a one time thing, something that never happens again during your stay at the farm, he wants you to remember this when you go back home. He wants you to recall this sliver in your timeline and never forget it, wants his name engraved in your memory like a branding iron.

Once he feels you’ve adjusted to him well enough, he pulls you off of him almost entirely, just to ram back in without mercy. He punches a voluminous moan from you, eyes watching where he disappears in you and reemerges. You’re tighter and so much warmer than he dreamed you’d be, but it’s perfect. You suck him in like a vacuum, as if his cock was made to be inside of you, as if you didn’t want him to part from you.

“You’re s-so deep, Yun,” you mewl, pulling him in for another headache-inducing kiss. “Don’t wanna stop.”

He exhales through his nostrils, mumbling out a curse when your walls squeeze around him. He wanted to last a while for you, wanted to hold out and prolong this moment until you were both on the crest of passing out. But you feel like a glove, your silk-adjacent cunt begging for more and more.

“Think I might cum soon, princess,” he groans, tossing his head back and just about losing every ounce of his sanity when your lips start marking the column of his throat.

His big hands move under your thighs, holding you in place so he can fuck up into you. The pace at which his cock drills in and out of your pussy has you seeing stars, eyes snapping shut and nothing but colorful spots decorating your vision. You were already abhorrently sensitive following your first orgasm, so it didn’t really take much to introduce the second.

Your hips stutter and it washes over you like a tidal wave, your body shuddering and collapsing into his top half. He pulls out of you quickly, mouth stationed by your ear as he jerks himself off until he’s painting your backside. He moans, a lot like the sounds he was making the other night, and you feel the need to just kiss him again.

Your lips lock sweetly, a stark contrast to your previous actions. Yunho curves a hand on your cheek, seperating from you the smallest distance so he can admire you. The smile that etches onto his expression makes you dizzier than anything else. However, the cutesiness can only span so long before the setting gives way.

Yunho’s hand snakes in between you, his forefinger sliding up and down your slit teasingly. Your breath comes out shaky, your face finding purchase in the crook of his neck. He replaces the digit with his middle finger, parting your pussy lips in search of your clit. It doesn’t take him very long to find it, rubbing tight circles into the engorged skin. You moan into his shoulder, resting your forehead on it to see the way he works your cunt.

“You’re so wet, baby. Have I not fucked you enough?” He whispers into your ear huskily. Yunho talking dirty to you is something you didn’t know you needed in your life. His finger slips downward, thrusting up into your hole with ease. He keeps massaging your clit with his palm, the stimulation making your head woozy.

“Mmmph— Yun, god. Feels too good.” You whine, gyrating your hips on his hand.

“Is that right, babe?” He encourages, adding a second finger and increasing the speed of their thrusts, almost like you hadn’t been in this position already. “I can’t wait to feel this tight little pussy around my cock again. Gonna fuck you harder than the last.”

Your whimpers raise in volume, focusing on the way he curls his digits in you, applying pressure with the heel of his palm to the circles he’s rubbing into your clit. You can sense your third orgasm approaching, warmth flooding your cheeks at how embarrassingly fast he worked you back up. Your walls clench around his fingers, alerting him of how close you are. He pauses, worming his body down so his face is eye level with your cunt again.

Yunho does the whole teasing thing a second time, kissing and suckling the hot skin of your belly, knowingly denying you of your release. You grab a handful of his hair, tugging at the ends to spur him on. He groans, giving into you and licking a straight line up your slit. He inserts both fingers again, this time using his tongue to manipulate your swollen clit.

The heat of Yunho’s mouth makes your insides ache, the necessity to cum intensifying. You keen loudly, desperately, needily, the sight of the brunette between your legs so incredibly arousing. He sucks on your throbbing clit, his long fingers as deep as they can go, and you crumble.

“Oh my god— oh my god— I’m cumming! I’m—” You cut yourself off, convulsing under him. He laps up as much of your juices as he can, coating his chin with your release. You moan as you pull him towards you to unify your lips, a mixture of your saliva and cum connect your mouths in strings. At this point, the sex is messier than anything you could’ve plucked from your wildest dreams.

One hand trails down your body, using your nimble fingers to play with your sensitive clit when he starts fisting his cock in preparation to enter your pussy again. You use your free hand to scratch at his contracting abs. He hisses, propping himself up with one arm next to your head and his eyes trained on the way you finger yourself at the same time. You can feel his breath on your cheeks and being in this proximity to him fuels your yearning.

“Please, Yun… Need you back inside of me,” you whimper. Rubbing your clit with your own fingers isn’t satisfying enough, not with him here in front of you, not when you know how good he can make you feel.

“Fuck, baby, when you beg like that I don’t know if I can hold back.” He chuckles lowly. It rumbles from his chest, shooting to your core.

“So don’t,” you rouse. “This is more than just a one time thing for me, Yunho.”

His eyes widen just a bit, your confession catching him off guard. That’s all he needs to line himself up with your hole, hooking his forearm under your knee as he slides in, stretching your cunt so perfectly with his perfect cock. “Shit— you’re so tight, princess… It’s almost like I didn’t just fuck you within an inch of your life.” He moans and spreads your legs wider. He bottoms out with a grunt, throwing his head back from the feeling of your velvety walls. A near deafening cry is ripped from your vocal cords. He nips at your neck, starting to piston his hips.

His thrusts don’t slow but become calculated, speeding up and diving deep simultaneously. It only took a short amount of time to figure out what you liked and he used it to his advantage. Yunho hikes your knee to your chest, groping your tits with his free hand. He twists and tugs at your nipples just hard enough that it contributes to your pleasure rather than hurts you.

It’s as if he doesn’t feel buried inside of you sufficiently, because he decreases his pace to press and fold your other leg up, his hips ramming into your ass with each thrust now. The tip of his cock kisses at what feels like your cervix. That familiar coil begins to fasten again, keening with every drive into your cunt. The squelching noises would’ve made you cower in shame with anyone else, but with Yunho it turns you on further.

You moan, and he flattens his hand on the lower part of your stomach. Yunho groans, biting the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. Your fingers find your clit again, circling insatiably to get yourself off.

“You gonna cum for me again?” He rasps, his hold on your legs almost painful. The backs of your thighs burn, but you endure it for the sake of the moment. You reach up and behind yourself, grabbing at the headboard in an attempt to match his force.

“Oh my god, yes— yes yes yes yes,” you babble, the syllables blurring together like your mind. “Gonna cum so hard for you, Yunho. Keep going, please.”

His lips attach to yours, tongues tangling sloppily. The position you’re in is on the opposite end of the spectrum from how you were expecting this summer reunion to go. Had you not been made aware of Yunho living here at the last minute, you probably would’ve backed out of your commitment to staying. Deep down you’re a little too thankful that your grandmother mentioned him when it was too late to reconsider.

“I think I’m in love with you, Y/N,” Yunho whispers into your mouth.

You let go of the headboard, cupping his jaw and kissing him lovingly. “Me too.”

Your fingers speed up and so do his thrusts, perfectly timed with each other to shove you both towards your highs. You’re on the cusp of falling apart, arching into him to close the gap between your bodies.

“Wanna cum inside you. Can I?” Yunho grunts.

“Yes yes, please. Fill me up, Yun, want all of you.”

He continues to abuse your cunt, pounding into you like his life depended on it. You sob, clamping your walls around him. He freezes, suddenly spilling into you. “Come on, baby, cum on my cock.” The warmth of his release and his words coax your orgasm, the fluttering of your cunt milking every single drop from him that it can. Even with his dick plugging you up, you can feel it dripping out of you and onto the sheets below.

He rocks into you languidly until you’ve calmed down enough for him to pull out. His forehead is flush on your chest, rising and falling with it, both of you so spent from the intense physical activity you engaged in. You stare up at the ceiling with heavy eyelids, carding your fingers through his hair to soothe him.

“You meant what you said right? About this not being a one time thing.” Yunho says hesitantly, like he’s afraid of permeating the atmosphere you created.

“I don’t think I can go home at the end of the summer and forget the way I feel for you, Yunho.” You admit out loud. There had been a constant struggle in your head over whether or not to follow your heart, but as he looks at you with those sparkly eyes of his, you know your answer. And you feel a little stupid for ever considering the counter.

“And what exactly are those feelings?” He pushes, folding his hands on your sternum and laying his cheek on top. You giggle, brushing his hair out of his view. As tempting as it was to divulge your theatrical journey in assessing your emotions, you’re too exhausted to stay awake. It would have to wait for another day.

“You have the rest of the summer to find out, cowboy.”

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez jeong yunho #ateez yunho #ateez yunho x reader #ateez yunho smut #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho smut #yunho x reader #yunho smut #yunhoszn

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hyperfixationhobo · 3 months ago

Text

SPICY! SPICY! SPICY!

NSFW UP AHEAD!!! 18+ ONLY

—————————————————————

Ok so I saw the vote, and yes it was a week long one but I meant to put it as a day and tbh I didn’t want to go back and redo the whole thing cause it’s obvious y’all want the spicy. For those who didn’t want the spicy I put a giant loud warning at the top so you can avoid this post if it brings you any discomfort or if you just don’t want to read it. No shame in knowing your boundaries!!!

Ok before we dive into the spicy, quick disclaimers! You may not like some the headcanons and that’s perfectly fine! These are just how I view the LADS and you aren’t obligated to like them! Second, I am putting how the guys are being tops and also bottoms. I’m a dom myself and there’s not a lot of bottom writing for these guys and I plan on fixing it. Third, MC in this is not specified to have specific genitalia. I want this to include everyone!

Ok let’s get on to the spicy!!!

Xavier

. Someone in my last headcanon post said that I wrote him boy coded and I honestly can’t agree more but for the spicy I see him more along the lines of ‘puppy coded.’

. Needy, so fucking needy.

. You have definitely walked in on him humping something waiting for you, mostly a pillow.

. “I’m sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

. Talkative as shit. Mostly babbled nonsense.

. So many compliments even if you can’t understand half of them.

. Favorite position is definitely the spooning position. You’re close to him and you can hear him moan. It’s a win win.

. I had to search up position name for like 15 minutes only to find out it’s just called spooning.

. I personally think he would be more sensitive than the other guys so he easily gets overstimulated.

. Doesn’t stop him though.

. Can definitely go multiple rounds.

. Also has a thing for overstimulation.

. He’s tired when he’s finished so aftercare is just wiping you both down then cuddles with a long nap.

. Will treat you to your favorite snacks after the nap.

If you top Xavier

. You pinned him down once and something in his DNA changed.

. Somehow got even more needy.

. Will wear outfits he knows that drive you insane just to get you to ravage him.

. Has to be touching you in some way.

. Won’t shut up once if he bottoms, you want him to be quiet you’ll have to shove something into his mouth.

. Take that as you will.

. Begs a lot.

. He will beg you to keep going even after he finishes.

. Put a collar on him I beg.

. We all know those bunny ears were used in more than just the photo shoot.

Zayne

. Temperature play most definitely.

. Loves holding you close cause I think he just loves warmth.

. He’s a doctor, definitely uses that to his advantage.

. I think he’s pretty vanilla out of all the guys.

. He will not cum until you do.

. Likes being ridden and I’m only saying that cause of that rocking chair scene from that one card.

. Definitely does quickies cause he’s mostly on the move.

. You send him a risky video while he’s at work you better be prepared to deal with a pent up Zayne when he comes home.

. “And what did you hope to achieve by sending me that video?”

. Aftercare involves gentle massages, hydration, healthy snacks, a bit of sweets, followed by sleeping cause he probably has work in the morning.

If you top Zayne

. You have one job and one job only; make him not able to think.

. Being a famous cardiac surgeon and looked up to 24/7 is tiring and right now he doesn’t want to think.

. You’re not allowed to call him Dr or anything like that.

. When he bottoms he’s not some super smart doctor that needs to know every answer, he’s just a guy who needs to be held and taken care of.

. He wants you to do all the thinking.

. You gotta be soft with him in this state.

. You know you’ve done it when he hardly makes noise and tears up slightly cause for once his mind is quiet and he can’t remember the last time he could just feel.

. Aftercare with a subby Zayne involves cuddles, sweets, and him being the small spoon.

. He’s floaty in this headspace and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Rafayel

. Bratty top and a bratty bottom.

. Also likes being ridden but that’s cause he’s a pillow princess.

. The bed is covered in rose petals and the fluffiest pillows.

. No candles. He learned his lesson from last time.

. That or he’ll gladly take you in a bubble bath.

. I think he switches to his native language when he’s close.

. Perfume definitely does things to this man.

. I personally think he’s the only one of the guys who would own a “toy”. Zayne’s too busy, Sylus doesn’t even really think about pleasuring himself when he’s running his business, and Xavier just simply isn’t interested.

. After care is a nice bath with fruits and soft praises.

If you top Rafayel

. You thought he was bratty as a top? You haven’t seen anything yet.

. Bratty as all hell.

. He’ll purposely won’t listen to you and test your patience just so he could get a punishment.

. “What are you gonna do? Punish me?”

. Until he actually gets the punishment and now he’s regretting it.

. Edging is the one thing he hates so use that to his advantage.

. I’ll say this once MARK 👏 HIM👏

. Scratch him, bite him, grip his hips so hard they bruise, he wants it all.

. Definitely looks at himself in the mirror the next day to watch all the bruises set in.

. Wears slightly revealing clothes to flaunt them off.

. Has definitely painted full body portraits of himself with the bruises and keeps those paintings stored somewhere.

. He just loves being yours.

. Also loves being pinned down

Sylus

. I know that most people see him as a rough top but honestly I can’t really see it.

. When I think of dragons I think of them being soft and careful with their treasures and the same I apply to Sylus.

. Takes his time, drags it on and on.

. Definitely teases.

. I think he’ll like doing it under the covers for the fact that it feels as if he’s shielding you with his wings like he used to and he honestly misses that feeling.

. Most definitely gets possessive.

. Bites, a lot.

. Also grunts a lot.

. Can definitely be rough but that’s only if it’s like a punishment.

. Won’t collapse on top of you when done cause he’s aware that he will quite literally crush you.

. Aftercare is a long soak with your favorite scented oils and Epson salt with whatever meal you’re craving.

If you top Sylus

. Bratty but not in the way you think.

. He’ll happily bottom if you want him to but he ain’t gonna make it easy. You gotta earn it.

. Tame the dragon basically.

. Chains, so many chains.

. So many collars too.

. Definitely likes being bitten as well.

. Wants you to be as possessive with him as he is to you.

. Call him your treasure and he’ll be a blushing mess.

. You had shoved his face into the pillow once and he froze.

. “….shit I think I might be into that.”

. Teases you just as much as if he was on top.

. I personally think he’ll be the hardest to get to submit only cause he will put up a fight until he thinks you’re worthy of doming him.

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kawhh · 7 days ago

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Thinking ab Dark Boyfriend content… Q, Jack, Trev, they could all have me IDGAF.

An idea has been tickling my brain, dark bf and sweet sunshine gf. He loves her so much, everything he does is out of care and love for her, how sweet she is. Never wants her to get hurt, wants to keep her save and happy and at his side. BUT! That does not mean there aren’t moments where he gets angry… And that angry voice is just so scary!!

You can pick who you want this to be about, but how would that darker side of the boys deal with it if their girl was startled by the yelling, crying and running to hide away bc she can’t take it 🥺

Confirmed would be perfectly happy with every decision in my life if I found myself in the middle of all that goodness together. Borderline drooling at the thought.

I'll pick Q for this though, since I do think he'd be the best at dealing with your emotions and smoothing over situations. He's the most responsible and the most just, calm.

Warnings: slight angst, a softer dark!Quinn, passing out.

Saying that, I think he'd lose it and shout if you were being too selfless and it was having negative impacts on you.

He understands that he can't change you, doesn't want to take your caring side away from you. It's a big part of you and it's a big reason why he adores you, why he generally lets you do anything you need to do for people, even if he's concerned.

But he has limits.

He's been smothering his emotions inside himself, watching as you lose sleep because you want to help someone out. How exhausted you are after constantly staying up for things you aren't even getting thanked for. He understands you aren't doing it for praise and thanks, but you aren't getting a break, aren't getting anything back for what you're doing.

You're getting sick often from the stress and how you're stretching yourself too thin, fists clenching as he watches you sleep, the sweat on your forehead from your fever, the way you can't get comfortable, the way you mumble out words of concern about something else you have to do for someone.

It's driving him insane and he feels helpless. He can't express how mad and upset he is, you're too sweet, too gentle and fragile. You'll turtle and it'll make everything worse. But the frustration builds. It builds and it builds.

It's not until you pass out, hitting your head against the couch from sheer exhaustion, your body weak and waving the white flag, that he loses his shit.

Swearing as he rushes to grab you, trying to shield your body from falling further, you limp in his arms. Cupping your face, staring at you in panic. He's manic, checking everything he can. Your temperature, your pulse, everything. He can't fight the frustration any longer. He's had enough. You're going to end up in the fucking hospital at this rate.

Can't contain his angry words at you when your eyes blink open, his brain not operating like usual, so afraid for your health. His tone rougher and louder than it's ever been in his life. He's just so frustrated. So concerned. Accusing you of being an idiot, yelling about how you have no concern for yourself, angry about how you don't rely on him.

He doesn't process the tears in your eyes until you're fighting in his grip, finally registering the tear tracks on your face, the way your eyes widen, the way you unknowingly take advantage of his shock to run away, stumbling from the after effects of the fainting spell.

Staring at his hands in shock, trying to process how he reacted, the look on your face haunting him, the panic of your reaction overriding all his previous frustration with you. Regret painted on his face.

He's running after you, afraid for your health in your panic. You're in no state to be running after what happened, especially when you're upset. He can't give you space right now. He needs to fix this, to make sure you're okay.

He can't stand to see a look of pure fear on his girl's face. Grabbing blankets and your favourite stuffed rabbit before he gets to you. He knows where you are. He can hear the sobbing coming from the wardrobe. It's your favourite place to be when you're scared of thunder. He can't stand that he's given you another reason to be scared enough to hide there.

The way you look at him when he opens the door.. it feels like his heart is in a vice. Cautiously holding out the stuffed animal and blankets, letting you take them at your own pace. Afraid to touch you, to startle you. But he can't wait. He can't let you spiral.

He's waiting until you cuddle yourself under the blanket, using the rabbit as a defense wall, climbing into the wardrobe himself, cursing softly as he hits his head and limbs, not being built for the space.

He's not afraid to stay in there for hours with you, even if it'll make his muscles ache for a week. Gently leaning his head against your defense wall, his voice cracking as he murmurs his apologies, explaining why he was upset. He needs you to understand, but he also needs to make sure you know how much he regrets even slightly raising his voice.

You didn't deserve his anger, didn't deserve the explosion. He just cares so damn much. It tears him apart watching your health fall off a cliff, but anger was never appropriate. He should've discussed it with you the minute his feelings started bottling up.

He'll apologise every single day of his life for how he reacted, if you need him to. You're the most important thing in his life. He adores how much you care. He just needs you to give him a little of the weight from your shoulders. To let him help you.

He'll stay there until you touch him. Until you lean into him, extending the bunny towards him like your own peace offering, sniffling, but okay.

#quinn hughes #qh43 #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagines #quinn hughes fanfiction #nhl imagine #dark quinn

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inkedbybarnes · 11 months ago

Text

anything

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: bucky is determined to take care of you while you're sick.

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: mentions of insecurities, mentions of illnesses (but vaguely described), fluffy ahh shit bc why not, usage of pet names such as baby and doll. bucky being stubbornly sweet (it is indeed, a warning), lowercase writing.

i've been sick the past few days hence the creation of this fic. idk why my mood drops when i'm sick... once again, this is too fluffy even for my own good but i warned you and you're reading it still anyway. 🤨 haha jk, i hope you enjoy this one! 🩷

dividers by @cafekitsune!

reblogs, comments, and likes are highly appreciated! thank you. ♡

“can you please let me in, baby?"

that was the fifth time bucky had asked the same question, never giving up on his mission to take care of you after learning from jarvis – out of all people... or robots? – that you were sick.

“bucky, i promise, i'm fine. stop trying to break the door,” you answered, your clogged nose not helping as you sounded horrible even with a concrete wall separating you from him. “go and tell steve that you're joining the mission. you can't withdraw yourself just because i'm—achoo!”

your nose began to leak, and you were now distracted with the need to find the tissue box that used to be on your bed. you didn't hear the door clicking open as well as the heavy footsteps of a certain soldier walking towards you.

“just because you're what? sick?”

you jumped, feeling the edge of the bed sink with his weight. you quickly grabbed the tissue box that was mysteriously thrown under the bed before facing bucky with the duvet covering most of your body.

“how did you open the door?”

bucky shrugged. “i broke the doorknob. you didn't say anything about breaking doorknobs.”

you sighed, not winning this argument with bucky. “you shouldn't be here, bucky. you're supposed to be preparing for a mission tomorrow, not babysitting me!”

“and let you go through this on your own? tough chance, doll. i'm your boyfriend for fuck's sake, and don't tell me that you're worried about getting me sick because we both know i'm immune," he argued, reaching out and pulling the blanket down enough to reveal your face. “are you really upset that i want to take care of you? you should be demanding things from me, baby. instead you've been hiding from me.”

“because i don't need anything, bucky. i can handle myself just fine." you huffed, knowing you wanted his attention and care so badly. remembering your face was exposed, you felt insecure again. you dragged the cover back up and turned away. “i also don't want you to see me like this.”

“like what?"

“like a mess," you muttered underneath the sheets. “you've never seen me like this before, and i swear i am the worst when i'm sick. you don't have to see me like this, okay? i don't want you to.”

you felt silly. it was completely normal to get sick, but you hated how extreme your body would act out whenever an illness would attack you. you'd always sound and look like you were fighting a battle in hell alone. the way your mind would take an entire flip and drag you to your lowest point didn't help either. so, not only were you feeling physically horrible, you were also struggling mentally.

“a mess? what mess?” he asked, lifting the cover to join you underneath it which caught you off guard. you were entirely exposed to his eyes now. “there's my girl. where's the mess that you're talking about, huh?”

with the little amount of energy left in you, you brought your hands up to cover your face. he could see how much of a mess you were now, far from the dream you've painted since the day you dated him. now, you were nothing but a nightmare of your reality.

“don't you dare hide from me. i haven't seen you all day and it's driving me insane," he complained, pulling your hands away from yourself. he brought his thumb to your teary eyes, wiping the tears away before they could fall. “i can't believe you're hiding from me just because you think i can't handle seeing you sick. what did you think i'd do once i saw you like this?”

you sniffed, hesitation holding you back from telling him the truth. it's only been three months since you've started dating bucky, and you were still in that stage where you'd constantly try impress him.

you weren't faking yourself, no. however, you still did your best to only show your good side and tuck away your insecurities. unfortunately, you had to get sick too soon and have to risk bucky seeing you this way.

“you thought i'd leave you? won't like you anymore? get turned off or something?”

you nodded, knowing that was exactly what went through your head and a bit pissed that he was able to read your mind without actually having the power to do so.

bucky's eyes softened at your confession, letting out a soft sigh as he saw how badly you were beating yourself up.

“if it's because of how you look right now, then it's true. you do look different," he answered, your chest tightening. “your eyes lost their glow, you're frowning more often, your eyes are all puffy, you are definitely grumpier than usual, your lips are dry and chapped from—”

“okay, i get it, bucky! you don't have to rub it in my fa—”

“but i won't be doing whatever is on your mind. you're sick, doll. it'll affect you. it's normal. hell, i look even worse when i used to get sick, but you? you still look so fucking lovely." he held your face gently, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “even then, i don't give a fuck on how messy you can get. i'm your boyfriend. i should be taking care of you, helping you feel better, and bringing back the glow in your eyes. please, baby. let me take care of you.”

this time, you were looking back at him. "you mean it?"

"of course I mean it," he replied softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "i love you, doll. i don't care how you look like right now. you could look like a swamp monster and be sick as a dog, and i would still think that you are the most beautiful woman for me."

you giggled softly, his words filling you with warmth and reassurance. you felt so lucky to have a man who truly loved you and handled your insecurities with such understanding and care, and even sillier for thinking he'd leave you for such reasons.

“thank you. that really made me feel better," you told him, your arms slowly creeping forward to hold him. “i'm sorry for hiding. i was just scared to turn you off or anything.”

“are you kidding? i'm trying my best not to hold you down and kiss you all over. i haven't even hugged you for a day,” bucky said, a pout on the verge of forming on his face.

“it hasn't even been a day, bucky. now, who's dramatic?" you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “and you're supposed to be on a mission tomorrow! are you really not going?”

“when i could be here taking care of you?” he asked, as if the answer was already obvious. “the others can handle it. my main priority is to do anything you want and make you feel better.”

“anything?”

he smiled, leaning down to let your lips meet softly. "anything."

( a lil bonus < 3 )

“what is that smell?”

sam, steve, and natasha entered the compound after a quick briefing for their mission tomorrow. they joined tony and clint who were having a casual conversation in the living room about the best burrito in town.

the kitchen was an open space, the aroma of whatever bucky was cooking spreading all around the nearby rooms.

sam didn't hesitate to come closer and inspect the kitchen, finding the entire counter lined up with various spices and plates that bucky filled with his dishes.

“what's the occasion? did i miss something?" sam asked, grabbing a fork to take a little taste until bucky slapped his hand away. "ow! what was that for?"

"hands off." bucky warned, frowning at sam. “that's not for you, wilson."

“not even a nibble? come on, man. it smells amazing!”

their usual bickering caught the attention of the other avengers, immediately joining them in the kitchen which annoyed bucky even more when he saw them eyeing the food he made.

"before any of you try to ask, no. this is not for any of you."

"who's it even for?" natasha asked, the least interested to have a taste, but was curious either way.

bucky answered with your name. "she's sick."

"what? since when?" clint asked, worry flashing across his face. "can we do anything?"

bucky glanced up before hesitantly answering. "well.. she did say she wanted to watch a movie after eating."

clint snapped his fingers and smiled. "i'm on it."

"i'll get jarvis to check on her vitals every hour and create a diagnosis," tony said, already tapping on his smart watch. "assuming she wouldn't be too comfortable letting the entire team know what's going on with her body, i'll just let you receive the updates. just update me with what you can, yeah?"

"i'll talk to fury and let you both have a week free from work," steve offered. "she needs the rest and she needs you."

"oh, i'll handle fury. he can't say no to his favourite," natasha said with a smug smile. "tell her i'll bring her all her favourite snacks once we're back from our mission, and that she better be back to full health so we can go out together."

bucky nodded, chest warming with the genuine concern they shared. he was excited to let you know how loved and deserving of all this you were.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #marvel #mcu #inkedbybarnes

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theplumsoldier · 1 year ago

Text

sore loser

summary: the scales of your rivalry with joel miller tips in his favor as he calls out your mistake and you end up a loser. the classic "you hate your partner but fucks him anyway"

pairing: mean!joel miller x afab!reader

warnings: 18+ please and thank you, hate sex, rough vaginal sex, spitting, slapping, choking, fingering, squirting, sloppy/rough blow job, degradation, age-gap, begging, biting, mean!joel, forced orgasm & multiple orgasms, tasting joel's blood?? no aftercare please let me know if i missed anything!! (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

You hated everything about him. You hated the way he looked, the way he spoke, and the way he walked. You hated how he was always confident, how he was always right, and the fact that he always knew which buttons to push. You hated how he was a better shooter than you, how he was better at finding supplies than you, and how he was better at tracking than you. You hated his salt-and-pepper beard, the curls in his hair, and his sun-kissed skin. You hated his brown eyes, his deep voice, and his large hands. You hated how he treated you like a child, how he called you "kid", and how he looked after you.

Most of all, right now, you hated that he shot the clicker before you managed to put a knife to its skull, how he made it look like you couldn't save yourself. He took the win and he got the point.

It was a game and you were losing this battle for dominance, and you hated losing to Joel Miller.

You had been biting your tongue so damn hard to keep yourself from stooping down on his level and the taste of blood lingered in your mouth for about 4 minutes before the last straw had been drawn.

Joel just couldn't stop himself from being an ass and work in yet another one of his snarky remarks.

"Get over yourself, Miller. I had it handled," you grumbled.

"Sure looked like it," he retorted sarcastically, making scattering noises as he dug through a crate in the warehouse.

The way he didn't even bother looking at you only made you more furious. "How the fuck do you think I survived this long on my own, huh? I've been—"

"Ask myself that every time I save your ass," he interrupted mockingly.

Your blood was boiling in your veins. He felt so fucking superior and it was driving you insane. You knew your worth, but for some reason, you had this crippling urge to prove yourself.

"Somebody needs to knock you off your fucking horse, Miller."

Joel chuckled grimly. "S'that right, sweetheart? Wanna give it a go?"

His infuriating words made you stand to your feet, and frankly, it excited Joel to see you acting like you might just do something about it.

With a groan he got up himself, easily towering over you. You swallowed harshly, jaw clenched.

Joel's face was set in a firm expression, dark eyes analyzing your face to predict your next move. It was a face-off.

There was a subtle smirk and you wanted to wipe it off so badly. This was entertaining to him—a challenge he joined, a game he played just for the kick of it.

You couldn't win a fight against him, you were smart enough to recognize that fact (at least for now). So you breathed out, your nervousness drawing out a shaky laugh.

"I hate you," you spat and turned around, sure you'd only dig a deeper hole for yourself if you looked at him any longer.

"That what you tell yourself when you dip your little fingers down between your legs?" he wondered aloud, not even testing the waters but diving head first into the lake of all your buttons that he planned to push: "Don't think I don't hear you moaning my name when you get off in the night."

Your eyes went wide and shame colored your cheeks pink. You hoped he wouldn't notice as your eyes shot daggers, completely dumbfounded, hoped your anger had already made your face red. You were at a loss for words, completely and utterly embarrassed.

The mixture of emotions compiled a message to your brain for you, and before you had a chance to regret it, you lashed out. Your hand stopped clenching and raised to deliver a well-deserved proper bitch-slap, but Joel caught your wrist. It all happened quickly, and it felt like you were watching on rather than being forced back against the wall, arms suspended against the cool and rough cement in his grasp.

Joel's head cocked, eyes blazing down at you. "You wanna try that again, sweetheart?"

The sudden close proximity made you involuntarily grind your hips forward.

"So that's what all this s'about, huh? You’ve been givin' me that bratty attitude 'cause ya got your panties in a twist?"

"Fuck you!" you snapped, the words seething through your grit teeth, leaving a bad aftertaste on your tongue.

"But that's what you want, innit sweetheart? Goin' around acting like I'm the devil's spawn, but really you just want a good fucking, yeah?"

You hated how he was always right.

Your arms strained in his grasp, writhing to get loose though the heat pooling between your legs protested. You enjoyed having him this close. You could smell him, see him.

"You're so fucking full of yourself, Miller," you snarled but had stopped trying to fight off his grip.

Joel chuckled down at you, tutting: "F’you wanna be full o' me, too, darlin', all you gotta do is ask nicely."

There was no fucking way he was actually offering to fuck you. It had to be a dream. A nightmare. But it wasn't. And he was offering exactly that, you realized as his head tilted. He was dead serious.

You knew it wasn't out of the good of his heart, so he must be wanting this, too. And if he needed it as much as you did, you were going to make him work for it.

You ground your hips into his again, this time very much on purpose.

"Tell me you don't want to bend me over right now, Miller," you leaned forward and whispered in his ear, letting your lips graze the soft flesh of his neck. His cock was hard against your cunt and he didn't do a thing to push you away. "Tell me you haven't just been dying to try out this tight pussy. An old man like you can't have had a proper fuck in ages."

He laughed. "Swallow your pride, sweetheart. You've never even been with a real man before, have ya? Always waltzin' around in your short skirts at the Byson, whoring yourself out for attention from those boys."

"Knew you'd been checking me out," you smirked, the movements of your hips now a consistent grind against him. "But you're right. And those boys can't help, they dunno how to handle me."

"I don't do charities, darlin'. F’you want me to fuck that shitty attitude out of ya, you're gonna have to prove yourself."

This time around, Joel pushed his clothed cock against your pussy and you knew what he wanted.

You wriggled your hands, inching closer to his face but never letting your skin touch. "Kinda difficult to get on my knees when you’re holding me like this, innit?"

Joel let go only to force you down on the ground, but you didn't protest. You had lost all filters, all of your arrogance as you were faced with his cock prodding at the zipper of his jeans.

Looking up as you eagerly undid his belt, you were pleased to see him inhaling deeply, proudly as he looked down on you. You pulled the zipper down, and your breath hitched as his cock saluted. He wasn't wearing underwear.

His cock was thicker than you had imagined, girthier than what you had felt while fingering yourself that night which he had so mockingly reminded you of. Long with a slight curve and a purple mushroom head unscathed. A drop of pre-cum covered the slit and you imagined it was crying for you.

"You gonna put that bratty little mouth to good use or do I gotta do that for you, too?"

Instinctively you glared up at him, giving him a look but it was washed away a second later as he took charge.

Grabbing a fistful of your hair, Joel forced you onto his cock, not giving you a second to wet your lips or spit on it. Harshly pushing you down on his cock, you found that it wasn't needed, there was plenty of saliva in your mouth to lubricate him. A whimper left you when his head hit the back of your mouth, your throat automatically constricting at the sudden intrusion. You felt your cunt mimic the reaction and clenched around nothing.

Joel was heavy in your mouth, the thickness making you worry the back row of your teeth would scrape him. If they did he didn't care, for when you looked up at him through teary eyes he was unconcerned.

He forcefully prodded against your throat, slipping in just enough to push further and you gagged.

Joel inhaled sharply. "S'a tight little throat you got there. Guess you haven't been whoring around as much as I thought," he chuckled, holding your face pressed firmly against him, your nose nuzzled in the patch of curls.

He held you there for a couple of seconds, allowing your throat to get adjusted despite acting seemingly careless about how you felt. A moment later he pulled you off by your hair, and you gasped hoarsely, blinking up at him through the tears slowly blurring your vision.

Hovering over you, Joel cupped your cheeks and lifted you slightly, bending down as he did. For a second you thought he was going to kiss you, but his fingers dug into your face, forcing your mouth open for him and he spat on your tongue, an obscene look on his face.

"Eyes on the price, sweetheart," he chuckled and landed you back on your knees.

With his hand holding you tightly by a makeshift ponytail, Joel pushed his cock back into your mouth and without warning, set a brutal pace sure to give you a headache. As slick gathered between your legs, a migraine was the least of your worries. You snaked a hand between your legs to relieve the tingling strain.

The breaths you were granted came in between the thrusts and you squeezed your eyes shut, feeling dizzy, prompting him to yank at your hair.

"Look at me," he grunted coarsely, voice going straight to your sex and you ground down hard on your hand, gasping for air. Joel admired your puffy lips, smeared with saliva, strings of drool connecting your mouth to the tip of his cock. "You look like a fuckin' mess, sweetheart. This what you been thinkin' about, hm? Been thinking 'bout acting like a little slut f'me, huh?"

His degrading words fueled your fire, both making you want to bite back at him and make him come down your throat. Opting for the latter, you tried to take him back in your mouth, wanting to put your adjusted throat to good use, but he yanked you back. A whimper left your lips and he slapped your cheek, forcing you to look at him.

"F'you know what's good for you, you'll answer when I ask you a question."

Wet and needy, you didn't hesitate. "Yes! Yes, Joel," you cried, one hand on his hip for purchase, the other hid between your legs, fervently toying with your clit. "Wanted you to treat me like a whore! Wa—wanted you to fuck me stupid!"

That's when he noticed your hand between your legs, eagerly seeking out friction. His brows connected in a crease of anger, and he had you on your wobbly legs one moment and hurled you onto a dirty surface the next.

"The fuck you think you're doin', huh? Touching yourself without permission?" Joel growled and for the first time his disappointment got to you.

He held you by your throat and you could feel the calluses in his palm scrape your skin.

"M'sorry—couldn't help myself," you babbled feverishly as he shoved a hand down your undone pants, feeling just what you had been so disrespectful to touch.

A guttural moan escaped him and you could have died just then, knowing you did that to him.

"Christ, sweetheart. You got this wet from chokin' on my cock, huh?" he mused absent-minded and you couldn't decide which you liked more; Joel calling you "sweetheart" or— "such a fuckin' slut.”

You were startled but thankful when he pulled down your jeans in one swift movement, exposing you to the cold air in the warehouse.

He didn't give you a warning before he plunged two fingers into your cunt, curling them against the velvety roof of your wet cave. Clawing onto his shoulder with a gasp of surprise, you instinctively tried to lift yourself and relieve the overwhelmingly intense feeling.

"Where you goin', sweetheart? This not what you wanted?" You desperately wanted to slap the grin off of his face, but he had you completely wrapped around his finger. Literally and figuratively. "Didn't you wanna be used like a little slut, hm?"

"Please," you begged, drawing the word out with a rugged moan and clutching to his shoulders. "Ff—uck!"

He fingered you at an unforgiving pace, three fingers and his palm slapping against your cunt each time. The squelches from your pussy resonated off the bare walls and if you hadn't been so focused on the pain mixing with pleasure, you would have been ashamed Joel was the one making you this wet.

"Joel!" you cried, tugging at the front of his shirt. "Plea-please! Need your cock!"

He choked you with his unoccupied hand, forcing your face inches from his. "Quit whinin' or I'll leave you 'ere," he threatened.

You looked up at him through hooded eyes, unable to comprehend your increasing lust for him from being this close. Joel's breath was hot on your face, breathing his air, you became dizzy from a mix of him and your impending orgasm.

"That's right, sweetheart, cream all o'er my fingers," he beckoned, feeling your contracting walls squeeze his fingers. Your legs were trembling, wanton moans spilling from your lips as Joel pulled an orgasm from you.

You incoherently begged him to fill you up, wanting nothing more than to milk his thick cock, but when he caught sight of your pleading eyes, he applied pressure to your clit instead. It was sore from the heel of his palm having slapped it repeatedly and it made you unable to come down from your high properly.

Your legs spasmed as his torturous fingers brutally skirted across your bundle of nerves. Before you could process what happened, a gush of pleasure sprayed from you.

Your cheeks flushed pink, realizing Joel had just made you squirt. You had never done that before, and you looked at him with an expression of surprise mixed with confusion. He looked proud.

Joel groaned as he stroked his throbbed cock, smearing the precum over the head while his other hand pushed down hard on your belly, holding you just at the edge of the table.

Stammering his name, your attempt at any sort of coherent sentence was foiled as he slid his girthy cock into your cunt.

Your eyes fluttered shut, walls clenching around him. You had never felt so full. "Joel—" you shuddered, gripping his bicep for purchase.

A string of curses left his lips, a crease knitting his brows together in concentration. "Fuckin' hell, sweetheart, s'a tight lil' hole ya got 'ere."

Joel wanted to take a moment just then, revel in the sweet clench of your pussy, catch his breath but he knew you would notice. As much as he had a hidden desire to ruin every other man for you and have you tail him like a lost puppy, he refused to acknowledge how overdue this was.

He didn't give you another second to adjust before he rocked his hips back and slammed his cock back into you. If you thought his fingers hit a spot, his cock fucking destroyed that.

You couldn't even form moans properly as his hips rutted at a bruising pace, expertly molding your cunt to fit him. His face contorted and he grumbled something under his breath, but you didn't care to ponder what as he filled you up. You were still dazed from the previous orgasms and it was like he wouldn't allow you to come down. Your ragged breaths, his grunts, and the wanton sounds of skin slapping filled your head as you soared around on cloud nine.

A large hand snuck under your shirt, the calluses on his palm rough against your skin but you loved the feeling as he squeezed your breast, thumb and index pinching your nipple.

Your knuckles turned pale from clutching down hard on his shoulders, fingernails clawing indents at the exposed skin on his neck and collar.

You hoped the crescents would outlast this moment, that Joel would curse at the sight the next time he looked in a mirror. You hoped he wouldn't be able to get this moment out of his head then, not ever, thinking back to this moment whenever he would see the scars you left on him.

A hiss escaped you and tore the thought of making your mark out of your mind. His deft fingers were rubbing your sore clit once again.

There was determination on his face and animalistic hunger in his dark eyes—he looked as if there was no getting through to him, like he was stuck in a world of his own.

Whether he insisted on drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you for your pleasure or his ego, you did not know. Joel always had something to prove—to himself or the people around him, it was another thing about him you didn't know. In this moment, as he chased every high for you, you didn't care either.

You hated him for making you feel this good. Hated him for making you moan in pleasure, hated him for making your legs shake uncontrollably. You wanted to taunt him, crack a spiteful comment about his age or something, let him know he wasn't doing as well as he thought—but he was. You could lie, but your body would betray you.

There was no snide comment left in you as Joel's hips pistoned into yours. It felt too good. He felt too good.

"S'too much," you gasped and held onto his shoulder, not pushing him away but not pulling him any closer either. "I can't."

The pressure on your clit was too much. The frantic rubbing, the harsh pads of his fingers, mixing pleasure with pain in the most unforgiving way. It hurt too good to want to stop him, though.

Joel surprised you, pressing his forehead against yours. His eyes were heavy, and his jaw was slack, the blissful expression ruined by a smug chuckle.

"You can. C'mon, sweetheart, I believe in you," he tutted like one would to a child riding a bike for the first time.

It spurred something inside you, the degradation. Your hooded, watery eyes caught sight of his plump lip through the blur and without a second thought, you lunged forward and bit it, your teeth piercing the soft skin.

It was the closest thing you would get to feeling them, you knew it, and you weren't about to beg for a taste.

A slap landed on your cheek, sharp and stinging, but he kept his hand there on the side of your face, cupping it in an almost endearing way.

Joel hissed at the taste of blood—surprised but not disgusted. The hand cupping your face in the sweetest way turned to force your mouth open, and you grinned bitterly when he spat on your tongue, tasting his blood.

His thrusts became more frantic, the pad of his thumb sloppily skipping over your clit as he draws your pleasure out. Forcing you to look into his eyes while you come around his cock, Joel's too far gone watching you to notice the way his balls tightened.

"Fuck—"

Slick with your juices Joel slips out of your clenching pussy, jerking his cock a few pumps as he hisses, strings of milky sperm decorating your abdomen.

Your heavy breaths hang in the room like thick syrup, bodies sticky, tension at a maximum as the lust turns back to hatred.

Joel moves from you with a grunt, a sly smirk on his lip as he moves his gaze from the mess on your stomach to your eyes. He leaves you to clean yourself up and tucks his softening cock into his pants, the zipper resounding comically loud through the silence. It reminds you of a secret between children, zipping your lips close as a solemn pledge.

It was over and it would never be brought up again. As you did your best to clean up, get back into your clothes, and comb your fingers through your hair, your eyes were trained on Joel's back—if eyes could kill and all that.

At once, you were back to hating one another. You hoped your nails had dug deep enough into his shoulder, hard enough to leave scars.

#theplumsoldier #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller tlou #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #the last of us #partner!joel miller

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etherealily · 10 months ago

Text

𝟡 𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕤 // Nate Jacobs.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Darker. SFW, but discretion advised.

Part 1 : Whiplash

Part 3 : Blessed

Part 4 : Shards

Part 5 : Eighteen

Part 6 : Sin

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : You should be grateful.

════════════════════ ⋆♠️⋆ ════════════════════

He wasn't supposed to text you. He was supposed to take the beating you'd given him for being a prick, like a man, and shut the fuck up about it.

But here you were, midnight, staring at the chat that had started it all.

'yo, u up?'

You rolled your eyes, going back to your scrolling.

'I hate seenzoners.'

You liked his message.

'That's so much worse.'

'The fuck do u want?'

Nate Jacobs sent a voice message.

You could have just ignored it. You could just block him. You could just… stop. But the allure was far too much. The urge of finding out what he wanted was too strong.

"Guess where I am."

He could've just texted that. No need for a voice message, but he was Nate Jacobs.

"I don't know, the psych ward?"

"You wanna know? You'll have to drive and follow my instructions, though. You trust me enough for that?"

Ha. No fucking chance. "No, I'm good, thanks."

"Oh, so you'll text me, but won't see me in person?"

His voice was oddly sultry, as if he'd either just woken up or hadn't slept for days. Most likely the second one.

"Bingo. Go to sleep, Jacobs."

And then he sent you a picture of him from the bleachers of your school's football stadium - how the fuck did he get in?

"C'mon, don't you want to see what our school looks like at night?"

Uh, yes. But with him? No.

"It's 12:05, ASSHOLE. No fucking way."

"This is the scene where you cave and meet me and we have a cute little nighttime school montage where we sit and talk about life."

You listened to that message a good four times before you stopped laughing.

"This is the scene where I block you."

"I will come over if you don't come to the school. Uh, y'know, if you want your parents to think you're fooling around with the QB."

"I will literally shoot you if you come within fifty feet of my house."

"Come. I'll make it worth your while."

Was it possible to hear smirks?

"I'm not coming, Nate."

No way he was actually at the high school. It was probably an insanely good edit.

"You will be."

The FUCK was that supposed to mean? Not like he could force you to show up.

"Wanna bet?"

"Sure. Fifty bucks says you show up to the high school tonight."

"Not blowing fifty bucks on anything, even if I do win."

"What's it going to take for you to come? Look, I-I know it's been weird, and I might've scared you, but that's… that wasn't my intention, I swear."

Yeah, his intention was just to show you what his blood looked like. You liked his message once more, rolling your eyes.

"Dude, seriously, I swear, I'm not like, a serial killer or anything. You can bring pepper spray, a taser, whatever, if it makes you feel better. I'm just- okay, fuck, you're right. Dumb idea, trying to convince you like this."

Wait, okay, good. That was good. He was getting the message.

Another voice message.

"I forgot who I was talking to. You leave me no choice."

"What?" No.

And then, you received a video. He was teetering off the edge of the top-most row of bleachers. With a gun at his head.

"Come on, Y/N, this is getting really sad, that the only way I can grab your attention is by almost killing myself."

"I don't care. Do whatever. Not falling for it this time."

═════════════════════ ⋆♠️⋆ ═══════════════════

"FUCK!", you yelled, as you found yourself running frantically through the school football field for the second time in two weeks.

You'd actually kept your word for a while, pushing out every Nate-related thought for a good night's sleep - you didn't fall for it.

Until McKay called and informed you that Nate wasn't picking up his phone - and that his last message was something along the lines of : 'Call Y/N if you don't hear from me in the next couple of minutes'.

He was deranged. Playing Russian Roulette with his own life was absolutely deranged.

"You actually showed."

GOOD, he was still alive, meaning you could kill him.

You didn't speak. That would simply complicate things, because then you'd have to look at him.

"Plus, you didn't flinch when you saw me. Think that's a win for me in the trust department."

You stood there, glaring at him as he jumped down from the bleachers, even doing that dangerously, as if he was a cat with nine lives, or he was playing a video game and would just respawn.

"You know, you could say something."

He wasn't getting impatient, though, like his tone was trying to portray. No, he was getting more amused. He liked this. He liked the fact that he got you to come to a basically abandoned-for-the-holidays-high school at midnight. He reveled in it.

"Like hey, Nate, thanks for convincing me to actually live a little for a change instead of staying cooped up in my house.", he suggested.

You punched him.

Yeah. You kept running across that field till you were close enough and you punched him right then and there.

You full-on punched him, shoved him back, slapped him, clawed at him. "Stop FUCKING doing this to me! STOP! You can't FUCKING do this to me!", you screamed, hitting him repeatedly on his chest.

He took every beating, and the fact that it seemed he was trying not to laugh just egged you on even more to actually kill him, make his nose bleed, make his head fall clean off his egotistical body.

Eventually, though, it seemed even Nate Jacobs had his limit. He grappled against your hands as he held them between both your chests, clenching his jaw. He wouldn't risk saying anything, seeing as your eyes were already burning with tears.

"You…", you cried out as he shifted his grip on your hands to only one hand, wrapping the other around you. "…Can't keep…"

"Shh, shh, I know.", he muttered as he rested his chin on your head. "Shh, I had to."

"No, you didn't."

He kissed your head, then your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, and stopped for a moment, hovering over your lips but not touching them, as though he was more scared than you were. "You know I did."

You wondered if he could taste the tears, whether he relished it. Knowing what little you did of him, he might have.

"I would've come."

"No, you wouldn't have. Shh." He was right, but there had to be some other way.

"You know what, sweetheart?"

It was sickening how he could do this to you and then use words of endearment against you.

"You should actually be grateful."

And that's when you noticed that he was actually gripping onto your hair, tightening it when your face didn't show any contortion due to pain (only contortion due to unbridled rage and the urge to stab him with your car keys).

"I usually hurt people to get what I want. With you, I'm hurting myself."

You fought the urge to say 'so fucking what?'

"You're not bleeding, baby, that's what you don't get. You're untouched, and safe, and not bleeding. Me, however?"

What was his point? That he was being a gentleman by scaring you half to death instead of having a normal adult conversation?

"I'm bleeding. I'm hurt. I'm in pain. But I'm still holding you."

He said it with exaggerated magnanimity, like he was doing you a favour, or something, like all your problems, trauma, worries, stress, had just disappeared because he was holding you in his 'big strong arms'.

"Then stop!"

"Neither of us wants me to stop holding you."

"I do."

He grinned, knowingly, with a subtle shake of his head. "No, you don't."

"Let me go."

"No."

"Let me go, Nate."

"Fine. Because you called me Nate and not Jacobs.", he nodded, letting go of you and throwing up his arms. "Don't hit me again."

"Was McKay in on this?"

He frowned momentarily, before realization swept over his face. "Shit. Yeah, no, he wasn't. I should text him, huh?"

Oh, now he was asking if he should be a courteous human being?

You watched him loathingly, as he typed out what you guessed was a half-assed apology.

'Sorry, McKay, I'm good, man. Chicks, y'know?' or some absolutely fucked up shit like that, to be sure.

"Done. Now, will you stop being so square and enjoy the fact that you're here at school at midnight?"

"What?" Enjoy?

"I'll bet this is your first time out at midnight period, let alone your first time out at midnight somewhere you're not legally supposed to be."

"Why am I here?"

The condescending look he gave you set your teeth on edge. 'Oh, poor, naive girl. Of course she doesn't even know why she's here. This is why I told her to stay in my grasp. She never listens.'

FUCKING ASSHOLE.

"You're my good luck charm. My good luck charm, but I heard you're fucking Shane. You can't be doing that."

The softness in his movements, the gentleness, it had either completely stopped, or entirely overshadowed the fact that he had put you through yet another nerve-wracking event that would raise your blood pressure.

Shane who, Shane who, Shane- oh. Shane.

Not so much fucking as went on one date with, but it was better for everyone if Nate thought you had already gone that far.

"Why not?"

"He's a punk."

"You're one to talk."

"Look, he plays defense. What if you're just, like, intensely fortunate? Can't have him sneak in a quickie before the game and then he's lucky."

It's like he wanted you to punch him again.

"He's on your team. You'll win anyway."

He shrugged, as though he could see where you were coming from, but was about to respectfully absolutely ruin your argument.

"I like to win."

"Not a team player, are you?"

"Never claimed to be."

══════════════════════ ⋆♠️⋆ ═══════════════════

He was so clearly getting frustrated with your lack of response - the initial dopamine and thrill of being a disgusting element of surprise by shooting/not-shooting himself in the head gone.

But what could you say?

You'd already ghosted Shane after the date had tanked, so technically there was no reason for you to still be here. The chances of a 'lucky quickie' were virtually zero.

And so, you just stood there, the two of you, with inexplicable rage pooling within.

Your senses were heightened, your emotions wilder than the crazed look in your eyes as he stood there, looking down at you like an adult looking down at their childhood toy. As if you were the naivest, most precious, pathetically adorable thing he owned, reminding him of a simpler time.

At this point, even a rabbit's foot had been treated with more respect than you.

And you hated every moment of it because it was thrusted upon you, just like the silence of the eerie, void-like field you two were in.

"Why are you like this, Y/N?", he groaned, with the nerve to sound tired.

You? Why were you like this? What about him?

"You're… so cold." His hands flexed as if they were about to move from your hair to your throat. "Just… let loose, please. You're the reason I'm winning, I'd at least like to get to know you!"

"Oh, so this is like, an interview? Is she good enough to be associated with me? You think you're hot shit? Dude, I- you gotta realize how fucked up all of this is."

You were practically pleading. Acknowledge your absurdity, Nate Jacobs, please.

"Hey, whoa, look, you chose to associate yourself with me. Not my problem, ok?", he spat back, clearly happy with the return of banter.

"I didn't choose any of this!"

"You requested to follow me after I followed you. You chose not to block me after I followed you."

"You're putting this all on me?"

That's what normal people do ; they follow people back! He was grasping at straws, but it still seemed as though he had an iron grip on them.

"There wouldn't have been a first time if you didn't care so goddamn much." Like he was mocking you. You almost screamed. You almost hit him. He was so nonchalant.

But that… rang true. However, the humanitarian in you was adamant that there was absolutely no one cold enough to shrug off a video of someone slicing so effortlessly into their palm and exposing their blood so unabashedly.

Well, except Nate Jacobs himself.

"But, y'know what, Y/N?", he said, clearing his throat, matter-of-factly. "That's all in the past. Because now, now, we're going to sort out this arrangement between us and everything will go back to normal."

Normal? Normal as in, both of you go back to being strangers? Unlikely.

"Arrangement?"

"How this thing is going to go. Before every game, you fist-bump me. You don't touch any other players whatsoever, Blackhawk or otherwise."

Great, he was policing who you could fist-bump now.

"I- you brought me here at midnight for this?"

"Uh, no, I brought you here at midnight for fun.", he replied, scoffing. "But since you wanted to be all violent and physical, I thought we should stick to business."

Did he mean to be this insufferable? Was it a bit? There was no way an actual human being could act like this, yes? There was no way anyone could think that this was a justifiable response to a genuine question. Right?

At this point, you didn't know anymore.

Nate Jacobs had officially stumped you.

"If I say okay, can I leave?"

"No, you cannot leave, but you definitely can go sit over there and think about your little attitude before I bring out the tequila."

He burst out laughing at your annoyed face, slinging a heavy arm around your shoulder in an oddly possessive display of 'familiarity'.

"Relax. Loosen up, like I said, and you'll be fine.", he snorted, and that was your only indication that he did not, in fact, actually wish to put you into time-out.

The insane man with a gun had a sense of humour, apparently.

"You brought tequila?"

"I told you, the whole point of tonight was fun and getting to know the reason I'm winning better. So, sit."

You sat, still glaring up at him. You must have looked absolutely fucking cute or something, because he pouted at you before reaching into a duffle bag you hadn't noticed before and whipping out two bottles of straight tequila.

"Body shots?"

"Jacobs…"

"I'm joking, I'm joking. You'll come around soon, though. They all do."

Great. That's brilliant. You'd been reduced from a stranger, to a bitch, to a joke, to now a stereotype. This was just spectacular.

"Why me?"

That question seemed to genuinely catch him off-guard.

Good. Now he knows what this past week with him has been like.

"Hm?'

"Why me? Why am I the good luck charm?"

"I don't know."

"You could just be a really good player. You don't know, you haven't gone a single game without it, so you assume you're winning because of it."

"The third game was the one you weren't there for. You must remember hearing about it, though? Most embarrassing game for East Highland, I swear. 34-nil? That was shameful. That's why I decided, fourth game onwards, I wouldn't have to risk it because I got you."

Shit. That actually made sense.

"Okay, now you tell me.", he began, slightly turning the bottle in his hand around and examining the contents, curiously. "Shane Crestin? Seriously?"

"What?"

He scoff-snickered, taking an impressively large gulp before answering. "Y/N, the guy's a tool."

Look who's talking.

"He asked me out after the game."

"So, he knows you're my good luck charm.", he said, quietly, like a king trying to figure out where his men's loyalties lay.

Did Julius Caesar have a girl who he gaslit in order to get her to watch him in battle because of superstition? If so, she'd have been the first to stab him.

"Of course he knows, you made a huge spectacle of it that first time."

"Oh, yeah. But still, what a bastard. Trying to steal my lucky girl and her luck like that."

You needed to do a lobotomy on this man, seriously.

It wasn't even like you could ask him what the hell that meant because that would just bring him immense amounts of joy.

"You're not drinking. Why?", he inquired, opening the second bottle and forcing it to your lips.

You frowned as you held onto it. "I don't drink."

"Oh, bullshit. Come on, drink, don't be a nerd."

"I said no, okay?"

"Wait, do you not want to drink around me?"

He was really going above and beyond to break the 'dumb jock' stereotype, wasn't he?

"I can't believe it.", he continued, leaning back on the bleachers as he watched your face. "After all this, you don't trust me."

After all this, he said, as if he had spent his entire life working solely for your benefit. Like a tired mentor.

"I mean, dude, this is like… such a bitch move, you know that? I'm just trying to be nice."

"I don't know what you want me to do, Nate."

"Uh, trust me? Thought we were cool now, Y/N. You think I'm going to get you blackout drunk then have my way with you? Rape you? Are you scared to be around me? At midnight? In a quiet, empty football stadium where no one would think to look for you?", he questioned, still holding your gaze as he lifted his bottle to his mouth.

The elaboration of that statement unnerved you.

"I don't think you're going to rape me, I'm just-"

"Just scared of the possibility?"

"Don't take it personal, but-"

"There's no other way to take it. You're all but accusing me of assault. I thought you were different."

Was that meant to make you melt? 'Oh, no, I'm just like everyone else in that I don't want to end up in a ditch somewhere, the horror!'

"Maybe I'm not.", you shrugged.

"But you came. Tonight. No one else would have. So maybe you're a judgmental bitch like everyone else, but you've at least got your stupidly huge heart going for you."

If you strained your ears, that almost sounded like a compliment.

"Uh, thanks?"

"Drink, Y/N. Please."

Oh, fuck it. You needed that goddamn tequila to shoot through you with a vengeance.

"There we go.", he mumbled, watching you. "Dude, look at you."

"Hm?"

"You're finally badass."

His eyes lit up as he saw your finger enter the scene. He chuckled for a moment. "I'm being serious. I mean, you've beaten me up, what, three times so far - once in front of the entire school - and now you're doing underage shots with me at night at school, which is like, two illegal things at the same time."

See, that's where the difference between the two of you lay.

He thought that was being a badass.

You thought that was being a dumbass.

══════════════════════ ⋆♠️⋆ ═══════════════════

"…So yeah. That's why I joined football, basically. Made me feel, like, stronger and more in control, I guess."

This asshole had just told the most human story, and now you had to see him as a person. The cunt.

You watched as he stood in the middle of the field, aiming and shooting at the banners that were strewn up all around the field.

God, he was so fucking terrifying.

How does he play Russian Roulette to bait you into coming one minute and then reload and shoot at banners like a child with his first Nerf the next?

"Control. Yeah, that tracks."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You want everything to go your way. You get pissed when other people do things of their own will."

"Can't argue with that.", he shrugged, as he turned his back to you and shot another banner, impressively shooting right in the centre of the 'O' in a 'GO BLACKHAWKS!' sign. "You know how to shoot?"

"No."

"You should learn."

"I'll get right on that.", you scoffed, as you observed your tequila bottle intensely, ignoring him coming back to rest his feet on the bleachers from your peripheral vision.

"Open your mouth."

"What?"

"Humour me."

"I've humoured you enough tonight."

"Please? Pretty please?"

You rolled your eyes, but opened your mouth. You had no idea what you expected, but it sure as hell was not him stuffing the barrel of his gun in there. You suddenly felt the tequila evaporating from your bloodstream as he slapped your hands away after you tried taking it out, like anyone would. Shit, it hurt. FUCK.

"Just relax.", he whispered, so soothingly that he might as well have been talking you through a panic attack. "There's nothing to be scared of."

Besides the hot gun you've got basically lodged up my throat.

Suddenly, the amount of danger you really were in began to materialize in your head. He was right. It was midnight. It was spring break. It was at high school. No one would think to look for you there.

"Are you scared?"

Oh, God. He was one of those freaks who got off on these things.

You nodded, not really knowing what else to do.

"You think I'll shoot you?"

You shook your head.

"Kill you?"

You shook your head.

"Then why are you scared?"

Honestly, it was the fact that he wasn't going to do either of those things, and decided to shove a gun down your throat simply for shits and giggles.

"You need more tequila."

WHAT?

You frowned, but nodded. Anything to get the gun out of your mouth.

He poured it straight from the bottle into your mouth, watching with sick satisfaction as you swallowed, and you realized that he was psychotically drunk.

"How's that? I do it all the time, y'know? Hot metal plus cold tequila equals the best fucking night ever."

Um, ew. No. But that would be super unwise to say.

"You shove a gun down your throat then take a shot?"

"One of my more dangerous drinking games, yes. God, dude, look at you. Like, you're so fucking uptight, loosen THE FUCK up!"

You were unsure how much 'looser' you could get - you were already going along with his 'dangerous drinking game'.

"I am!"

"Not enough. Not even close. You need more."

"We're all out.", you said, (thankfully) pointing at the empty duffle bag next to him.

"Oh.", he sighed, slumping down next to you and using the duffle bag as a pillow. "Just- I don't get it. What is it about you?"

"That makes you get suicidal?"

He snorted, softly. "That makes me so mad?"

"You're mad?"

"Not like angry-mad. I mean like… crazy-mad. Like I go mad around you."

Five-year-olds could explain things better than him, but, to his credit, he was shitfaced.

"Really? Thought you were born that way."

"I mean, last week? When I kissed you? I don't do that shit. But it was the only way to shut you up. I-ugh. It's you, Y/N. Just fucking up my brain, one game at a time."

"Oh, oh, so you being a psychopath is because I didn't show up to one game?"

"When you're constantly worried about someone needing to be there, you do crazy things. Like cut yourself. I would have done it, too, seriously."

"I know. That's why I came."

"So, we weren't entirely strangers, huh? You knew me a little, at least?"

"Uh, no, we were definitely strangers."

"Now? What are we now?"

"Uh… friends?" You didn't mean that. You wouldn't be his friend if it killed you.

"No, I think I'd know it if we were friends." Phew.

"So, you tell me."

"What? No, you've been in charge this whole time, you tell me."

He just said you'd been in charge.

One offhanded, sweeping statement, and he'd shifted all the blame on you as easy as pie.

How did he do that?

It was obvious what he was referring to: the fact that none of these interactions would have happened if you just hadn't given a shit in the first place.

The fact that every single move of his had been linked to you, in whatever this weird everybody (except you) ante, sketchy poker game he was playing was supposed to be.

And it unnerved you.

Because in some twisted way, it was true.

"Acquaintances."

"But we've kissed.", he reminded, diligently and unwantedly. "Acquaintances - and classmates, before you suggest that - don't just kiss."

"Dude, then what do you want to be?"

Shit. That was what he'd wanted all along. For you to ask in exasperation, to give you his interpretation.

"You know, just… an average relationship between a man and his good luck charm." He inched closer, his hand loosening its grip on the railing as if it was going to do something, but there was no more tequila to reach out for.

There was only you.

And reach, he did.

First, his hands were on your cheek, like they had been a half hour ago. Then, suddenly, they were in your hair, and his tongue was trying to coax your words out of you directly from the source.

And you just let it happen.

If anyone knew why you let it happen, you'd have loved to start a suggestion box.

But you had a funny feeling that the only person who knew why was Nate Jacobs himself.

Fat chance he'd tell you.

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kjupchurch-xx · 7 months ago

Text

Intoxicated

March 16th, 2009

Today was my 21st birthday. My friend had set me up on a blind date with an actor, but didn't tell me who. She figured this would be the perfect scenario considering the hell I'd went through last Summer with a guy that was probably the biggest piece of shit on the planet. I haven't dated or been intimate with anyone since then, nor did I really have any interest in being.

I looked over at her, "What is this guy even like?" I asked, finishing up curling my hair.

She smiled, "He's tall, he's nice, he's super sexy and he's not American, if that gives you any hints."

I shrugged as I sat my curling iron down, starting to put my eyeliner on, "It doesn't. But I mean, is this even someone I'd be remotely interested in?" I asked her, giving her a questioning look.

She chuckled, "I'm positive you'll be thanking me by the end of the night."

I rolled my eyes, "So he's an actor?"

She nodded, bringing me a pair of ripped bell bottom jeans, "Yes. A very talented actor."

I quickly changed into the jeans, "Is he anyone I know?"

She walked to my living room, grabbing my keys to bring me, "Ummm... He's in that movie we watched when we were teenagers. I think it's called Swordfish or something like that."

I gave her a questioning look, "Did you set me up with John Travolta?"

She covered her mouth laughing, "You'll just have to wait and see. I'm not telling you anything!"

She probably set me up with one of the extras, someone I most likely wouldn't even remember ever being in the movie. She knows I hate surprises, but I appreciate her for trying, even though the last blind date she set me up on was a complete and total dud.

She clapped her hands at me, "Go! You were supposed to leave 5 minutes ago! He's going to meet you at RH Rooftop." She yelled.

I grabbed my phone, made sure I had my keys and looked at her before heading out the door to our apartment, "I swear, if this is another dud, I'm going to kill you."

She rolled her eyes, "I promise, it's not a dud. Just go."

I rolled my eyes, closing the door behind me as I made my way down the hall, towards the elevator, then to my car in the parking garage. While making the drive to the restaurant, I'll tell you a bit about myself... I'm a Southern Belle, originally from South Carolina. I moved to NYC after obtaining a degree in journalism. I didn't have many opportunities in my small town, so I decided to move to a bigger city in hopes of pursuing a career as a reporter. I've been serving as an intern for a local publishing company, which has gone well for the most part.

Callie and I are roommates. She also moved here for journalism, but moved here from Arizona. We met while working part-time at a coffee cafe and became roommates since the cost of living in NYC is astronomically high. She took a different career path, as a model which caused her to meet many different celebrities.She'd tried getting me into modeling with her, but it wasn't my thing. We shared a dog, Harley, who was a beautiful French Bulldog, that was treated as if he were our love child.

As I arrived and finally found parking for RH Rooftop, I realized I was 10 minutes late. I quickly turned my car off and sprinted towards the entrance. I don't even know who I'm looking for or how to spot this dude. I approached the hostess stand, looking nervous as I skimmed the crowd of dinners wondering who Callie had set me up with.

The hostess noticed me, "May I help you with something?" She asked kindly.

I nodded, "Ummm... I"m here with a guy, but I'm unsure of where he's sitting. He's not American and is very tall. He's also an actor." I stammered, knowing I must sound insane.

She giggled, "Can you tell me his name?"

I pursed my lips, "Not really. I'm on a blind date, so I have no idea what his name is...or who he is." I chuckled nervously, scratching the back of my neck.

She smiled, "Okay, I think I know who you're referring to. He told us he was expecting a blind date. Follow me." She said, grabbing a menu and leading me to the rooftop entrance.

I followed behind, still curious as to who this would be. I'd probably shit a brick if it were John Travolta, but I'm pretty sure he's off the market. There was that computer hacker dude that was pretty hot too. As we reached the rooftop tables, she led me to a dark haired man that had his back towards the entrance. I couldn't make out who he was just yet and considering that was an older movie, I doubt I'd recognize him from the movie from the back.

He stood as he heard us approach and pulled my chair out, turning to face me, "You must be my date." He said with a smile, extending his hand to shake mine, "I'm Hugh." He said casually.

It was the computer hacker dude, and shit, did he look good. Even 8 years later, he still looked good.

I smiled, shaking his hand, "I am, I'm Kaitlyn." I said as I took my seat. He gave me another smile before going back to his seat across from me.

"How're you doing, love?" He asks, smiling at me, keeping his elbows off the table. Hm, a real gentleman.

I chuckled at his flattery, already calling me a pet name. "I'm doing good, everything's going great for me at the moment. How's things going for you?"

He shifted, "I just wrapped up filming an origin movie for a character I've played for the last 9 years, I'm finally on a much needed break and no longer on a strict regime for my character, which I'm fully intending on breaking tonight with a milkshake."

I giggled, "I see." I said as the waiter approached us. He was a young man who was obviously infatuated with my date.

"Holy s-, I mean, I'm so sorry-" He stammered as Hugh began cracking up, "It's quite alright, mate." He said to the young man.

The man smiled, "Mr. Jackman, I'm sorry. Wolverine is my all-time favorite X-Men character." Hugh smiled, "Can I please get a picture with you? I swear I'll keep it professional after." He asked.

Hugh laughed, "Sure thing, mate. I'm sorry, love, but do you mind helping our waiter out with a picture?" He asked, almost embarrassingly.

I chuckled, "I don't mind." The waiter smiled, handing me his cell phone as Hugh got up to stand beside him, making a Wolverine pose as if he had retractable claws.

He pat the man on the back and sat back across from me, "Thank you so much, Mr. Jackman. And thank you for taking the picture. My name is William. What can I start you guys off with to drink?" He asked.

Hugh and I looked at each other, "I think I'll take a martini." I said, flipping through the bar menu. "No problem, William. I'll take a martini, and also, a chocolate milkshake. Large, William."

I giggled at his serious tone making sure William understood Hugh wanted a large. "Coming right up, are there any appetizers you guys want to start with?" William asked before walking off as we both shook our heads.

Hugh looked up at me, damn was he sexy, "So, tell me about you." He said, smirking.

I pursed my lips wondering what to tell, "Hmm, let's see... I have a Frenchie, his name is Harley. I'm an intern for a local business. I have a degree in journalism. I moved here from South Carolina after graduating college for a better chance of a career in journalism."

He nodded, taking my words in, "I've always wanted a French Bulldog. I also have a degree in journalism. I moved here from Australia many years ago, but I moved for X-Men." He said, forcing his accent deeper as he mentioned being from Australia.

I chuckled, "You do have a very sexy accent. I actually didn't know you weren't American because your American accent is so convincing."

He smirked, "I happen to think your accent is sexy too." He said flirtatiously, making me blush.

I laughed, "I literally sound like cornbread, stop."

He laughed, "You do not. Even if you did, cornbread tastes good."

Our waiter returned with our drinks and Hugh's large milkshake, and proceeded to take our order. I reached for the menus, but Hugh swiped them from me, handing them to our server.

He winked at me, "Gotta be quicker than that, beautiful."

I playfully rolled my eyes, "Tell me more about you." I said, resting my chin on my hands, giving him my undivided attention.

He smiled, "What do you wanna know?" He asked flirtatiously.

I shrugged, "Everything."

He chuckled, "For starters, I have two children, Ava and Oscar. They are 4 and 9. I play cricket. I enjoy singing. Every year, I go back to Australia and do the polar plunge. I'm recently divorced. Anything else you want to know?"

I smirked, "Have you been with anyone since the divorce?"

He looked at, surprised at my question, but smiled, "No, no I haven't. I haven't been with anyone besides her since 1995."

I bit my lip, raising my brow with a giggle, "So you're not a douche bag then, noted."

He smiled sweetly, "No, I'm not a douche bag." He said softly.

I shifted in my seat, taking a sip from my martini, "What are you hoping to come from this?"

He shrugged, "I really don't know, love. I have no expectations, whatever happens, happens. What about you?" He asks, his eyes burning through me, almost with a lust.

I smirked, "I kind of go with the flow. Whatever happens, happens."

He bit his lip, "I like that."

As the night went on, we ate our food and drank a few martinis. Both of us, feeling a little tipsy and beginning to ask risque questions as he moved his chair to my side of the table, now beside me.

"So tell me, what are some of your turn-ons?" I asked with a smirk, sipping my 3rd martini.

His one hand moved to my thigh under the table, "Does it count if I say you?" He smirked, looking me in the eyes.

I bit my lip, "Do you want to um...get out of here?" I asked him quietly.

He grabbed my hand, "C'mon, love." and began leading me towards the entrance of the rooftop bar to head back downstairs and to the sidewalk. "Let's go to my car." He said, leading me to an SUV.

As we got to the car, he rushed towards the backseat, opening the door, motioning for me to climb in. I climbed in, sliding to the other end as he quickly slid in beside me, shutting the door and pulling me onto his lap, slamming his lips against mine as he roughly gripped my hips. I felt him begin pushing his hips upwards, grinding into me as I reached behind us, positioning myself upwards, tugging at his belt.

"Take this off..." I muttered against his lips as he bit my bottom lip, I pulled away and slid my top off as he helped me, tossing it into the seat beside us, leaving me in my bra and jeans. I slid off of him to remove my jeans and underwear as he undid his belt and jeans, his hard dick exposed.

"Come here." He said, almost demanding, as he grabbed my arm, bringing my lips back to his as I straddled his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck as I lowered myself down onto him, taking every inch.

He moaned against my lips, "Fuck, you're tight." He said lowly as he sucked on my bottom lip, nibbling at it.

I began bouncing up and down, roughly, my moans filling the car. I felt him reach up and grab my breasts, that were covered by my bra, squeezing them. "Shit, your cock feels so good inside me." I cried out.

He pushed my bra down, exposing my breasts as he popped one of my nipples into my mouth, nibbling at it and sucking as he started thrusting his hips up to meet mine. "Oh fuck!" I yelled as he moved his hands to my hips and started thrusting hard into me.

"We gotta be quick, we're in a parking lot." He chuckled as he began moaning again.

I could feel my orgasm coming, I grabbed his chin, forcing his face back to mine, crashing my lips onto his. "Cum for me, baby." He said huskily, moving his lips down to my neck, sucking and biting softly.

I felt my eyes practically roll back into my head as I let myself go, my juices flowing down his throbbing cock as he spilled his load inside me.

"Second date?" He asked, out of breath, laughing.

I nodded, catching my breath, "Definitely."

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sjsmith56 · 2 months ago

Text

You Know You Love Me

Summary: Bucky drives another member of the Avengers crazy with his teasing of her, and the non-stop women that he dates.

Length: 3.4 K

Characters: Bucky, unnamed and undescribed fem!reader

Warnings: Cursing, Bucky being insufferable, condescension, interference in reader’s dating life

Author notes: Avenger AU; Thanos never happened in this universe.

There were times when Bucky Barnes could be really irritating. Actually, it was most of the time. Living in the tower with him was like having the most irritating big brother / roommate / overbearing neighbour ever, trying to run your life. The worst moments were when he would say something just to get a rise out of me. He’d say it, then smirk, then the smile would get broader as he watched my reaction, then he would practically laugh when I’d call him on his bullshit. Those perfect teeth would be fully exposed, and I swear there would be a lens flare sparkle effect on them as his eyes crinkled in amusement. It was maddening.

He always had an opinion on everything, from TV shows, movies, favourite foods and especially with what I wore, and shared it whether I wanted to hear it or not.

“Sweetheart, you should wear that blue dress more often on your dates,” he would say, or something similar to it. “It will make your eyes pop.”

“You telling me what to wear, Barnes?” I would answer. “You practically live in your dark jeans and Henleys.”

“That’s because they’re comfortable,” he would reply, with a grin. “After what I went through in my life, I’m entitled to a little comfort in my old age, aren’t I?”

“Eat shit,” would be my response, except I never said it aloud as he was still a man of the 40s and would act all concerned at the language people used, which was rich coming from him, as he swore more than I did.

To be honest, I couldn’t really call him out on his life because he was tortured for most of it, and technically he was a centenarian. But to watch him just grin, with that look he often had after saying something outrageous to me, knowing I was holding my tongue, brought out the worst in me. Of course, the other Avengers would say he obviously liked me because he was normally Mr. Silent and Grumpy with all of them.

“Take the smile,” said Sam. “It’s proof the man has a heart.”

“But it bugs me,” I explained. “Drives me up the wall.”

“That’s why he does it,” smiled the winged man. “He obviously likes you and thinks you can handle it.”

That was the real problem for me; I couldn’t handle his attention, seemingly focused just on me. None of the others got as much scrutiny as I did. It didn’t help that the man was insanely gorgeous, with that thick dark hair, intense blue eyes, a jawline and cheekbones that rivalled those of any Hollywood heartthrob, topped off by an incredible smile. Physically, he was the type of man that women drooled over; tall, broad shouldered, sculpted waist, an ass that filled out his jeans so well, and thighs that gave me all sorts of thoughts. Which was another reason why I did my best to ignore or insult him. You would think I would know that my tactics weren’t working but the alternative to his attention was not getting it and that was unthinkable.

He had lots of female company, based on the number of times he came out of his room in the morning with a different woman for the walk of shame to the elevator. He’d stroke their hair, say how much fun he had, kiss them softly on their lips, then send them on their way, never to be seen again. It hurt, and I didn’t think I could compete against that. Not that I ever really tried.

Don’t get me wrong. I was happy with myself. After falling into that trap of denying myself anything that might stick to my figure, I realized I was playing a sucker’s game. I liked food, I liked enjoying myself, and so what if I wasn’t a perfect size 2. I was perfect the way I was, loved my curves and loved showing them off. Dates weren’t a problem, although second dates weren’t automatic, and third dates were rare. I often wondered why that was.

Somehow, Bucky would always be around when my date was picking me up for the first time. He would lean against a wall, his arms folded, gazing intently at the man who showed up. Occasionally he would speak to them with something along the lines of bringing me home before curfew. They would look at him, then me, to determine if he was kidding. It didn’t help when he said it was part of my “parole conditions.” Even if Bucky started grinning and say he was joking, more often than not those would be the dates that didn’t progress beyond the first one. If I did get asked out again, he would be waiting even nearer to us, almost like a lurking parent.

“Did you remember to take your infectious disease medication?” he would sometimes ask.

“Bucky, you know damn well I’m as healthy as a super soldier.”

“Yeah, now you are,” he’d say, with a straight face. “Gotta stay vigilant. Remember Typhoid Mary appeared healthy.”

The last time it happened, and Bucky said something really outrageous, the guy decided not to follow up with any more dates, so I confronted Bucky the next morning.

“Why are you always interfering in my love life?” I was almost apoplectic in my anger. “You told him I had to be home to tuck the kids in.”

“You can do better than him, sweetheart,” he answered. “If he really liked you, he would have asked to meet the kids. He wasn’t right for you. None of them are.”

I was done with his interference.

“How would you know? When was the last time you had a steady girlfriend?”

“Haven’t found the right one, yet,” he said. “But I get lots of action during the search, so I’m not too concerned.”

“Yeah? Sometimes I wonder if you have your lady friends over here just to make me jealous.” A flicker of something appeared in his eyes and quickly disappeared. I obviously hit a target. “You see me giving your dates the third degree?”

“They know our dates are casual,” he said, with an edge to his voice. “I don’t lead them on.” The grin appeared again. “They just want a taste and I’m happy to oblige.”

“You’re such a hypocrite!” I was in serious danger of losing it. “I swear, one of these days I’m going to start dragging guys to my bedroom. See how you like it then.”

With what I hoped was dramatic effect I whirled around and stomped away, not looking back. He just made me so angry. What he didn’t know was that I went straight to my room, turned on the TV really loud, then buried my face in my pillow and cried. Cried for letting him bother me; cried for being jealous of the women he brought back; cried for obviously not being someone he saw as worthy of dating. I hated to admit it, but I was in love with him, but I also knew I was nothing like the women he brought back for the night. They were beautiful; tall, graceful, perfect hair and teeth. Even though I liked myself I still felt like I was a 6 compared to their 9s. I didn’t think he would ever think of me as anything other than someone to tease.

It didn’t help that before I came to the tower, I was in a disastrous relationship with a SHIELD agent who was just as handsome as Bucky. He broke my heart when I learned he was cheating on me, and I didn’t want to be put into that position again. I put up all my emotional guards and just did my job. Except Bucky kept chipping away at me. I was tired of it. Did I already say he drove me crazy? This boomeranging between loving him and hating him wore me out.

For a week after that last confrontation, I wouldn’t talk to him. I wouldn’t even stay in the same room with him as I was so mad at myself for loving him. He didn’t bring any women back to his quarters during that week, so I guessed that my words had an effect.

That lasted until I went out to a nightclub with a bunch of college friends that I hadn’t seen in a while. I was dressed to the nines that night, in a slinky dress, cut low in the front and back, showing a lot of leg. I did my hair, wore makeup, nice jewelry … the works. We walked into the place like we owned it, and heads turned as we made our entrance. Drinking and dancing like it was the first day of the rest of our lives, we drew lots of male attention (and some female, as a couple of my girlfriends were lesbians). It was fun and liberating at the same time.

I was on the dance floor, grinding my ass against a guy as we danced when I saw them; Bucky and Sam, sitting at the bar. I couldn’t believe they would follow me. Women were hitting on both and every time I looked Bucky would lean over, whisper something in their ear, then pull back with that sexy smile he had. I was sure he was doing it deliberately. When we finally made eye contact, he lifted his glass to me. What an asshole.

“Who’s an asshole?” asked the guy I was dancing with, raising his voice so I could hear him over the music.

I must have said it out loud.

“Just a guy from work who showed up here,” I yelled back. “He’s always on my case. We had words and I told him off. Now he’s here and I just find his presence annoying.”

“You want me to tell him to leave?” he asked. “I don’t mind.”

Before I could answer he left me on the dance floor and made his way to Bucky. I watched him point back to me then say something. That smirk came out, then Bucky looked at me and shook his head. Working my way off the dance floor I confronted him, swaying lightly as I was definitely under the influence.

“Why are you here?”

“Baby, I just told him to leave,” said my dance partner. “Come on, he’s just being a dick.”

“Seriously, Bucky, why did you follow me?”

He looked at Sam, then at the guy I had danced with, then back at me, sizing me up in a way that made me a little uncomfortable. “I didn’t know you were here. We often hang out here, don’t we Sam? Good booze, nice staff, and great music.”

Sam said nothing, just arched his eyebrows a little. The guy I danced with was getting impatient.

“Bullshit, you hate this music,” I said. “You always go to that jazz place on the east side.”

That smirk twitched at the side of Bucky’s mouth. “How would you know? You been watching me?”

“No,” I answered defensively. “People post pics on Instagram. You’re a celebrity.”

The guy looked at Bucky again then at Sam and his brain suddenly put two and two together.

Bucky scoffed. “Thought I would find out what the appeal with this place is,” he answered, then he looked at the guy who was definitely figuring out he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. “Gotta say, I’m not that impressed.”

“Yeah? Well, I didn’t ask for your opinion,” I retorted, trying to appear put together, then losing my balance. He caught me before I tripped over the heels I was wearing. “Thank you. Now, I’m going back to dancing with my friend here. You can just … just … buzz off.”

I waved my hand at him dismissively, then turned back to the dance floor, grabbing hold of the guy’s arm. As I headed back into the throng of dancers with him, I lost my balance again and almost fell, but felt a strong pair of arms catch me up in their arms. It was Bucky.

“Put me down,” I said.

“No, you’re going home,” he answered. “You’ve had enough.”

“She asked you to put her down.” Bucky glared at him.

“You're not my dad,” I slurred. “Or my boyfriend. You don’t get to tell me when I’ve had enough.”

“That’s true,” he answered, still holding me in the middle of that dance floor as the other dancers ignored us. All I could see was that cute cleft in his chin. God, I wanted to lick it. “But I am your friend, and I think you should call it a night.”

It was like the other guy didn’t even exist. Bucky thought he was my friend? Never before had he said that and for some reason, it made me cry. Every time I tried to stop, I couldn’t and I buried my face in his chest, soaking his shirt with my tears. Calmly, he carried me off the dance floor to where Sam was, holding my purse and jacket. I still don’t know what happened to the guy I was dancing with, but he didn’t follow us.

“I’ll get the car,” said Sam. “She’s going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

“She’ll be alright,” replied Bucky, then he looked at me in a way he never had before. “You really need to know your limit.”

“Are you mad at me?” My voice sounded pathetic, even to me.

“No, sweetheart, I’m not mad.” He was still holding me in his arms. “I’m actually sorry.”

We were waiting at the door now, where it was quieter and the pounding in my head that I knew came from how much I drank began bothering me. He stood me upright for a moment, helping me on with my jacket.

“Why are you sorry?” I asked as he buttoned it up.

He breathed out noticeably. “I went about things the wrong way. I might be over a hundred years old but when it comes to women I like, I forget how to act around them.”

I swayed a little, and he put his arm around me, supporting me.

“Who do you like?”

Sam’s car appeared and Bucky helped me into the back seat, buckling me up. Not that it helped as I wanted to lie down and close my eyes. Sam shrugged as Bucky got into the back seat and put his arm around my shoulders so that I leaned against him. He was so warm, and his arm felt so nice and comforting.

“You smell good,” I murmured. That was the last thing I remembered until we got to the tower.

When we got there, I know that he picked me up like I weighed nothing and held me in the elevator until we reached the residential section. He carried me to my room then I could hear Natasha’s voice. For some reason that made me cry again, but she was so nice, telling me to let it out. I ended up in a T-shirt and shorts, tucked into the bed.

“There’s a glass of water and some pain killers on the nightstand,” she said softly. “Next time you wake up, take them, okay?”

She left me there although I could hear her and Bucky talking in Russian, but not understanding it, I didn’t know what they were saying. I just wanted to sleep, and I did, like the proverbial dead. When I did finally open my eyes, the light hurt, even though the curtains were drawn. I took the painkillers and drank the glass of water, then promptly ran to the bathroom, and brought it all up. As I sat on the floor, holding my head in my hands while I leaned against the bathtub, I heard a knock on the bathroom door.

“Go away,” I muttered. “Let me die in peace.”

“Were you sick?” It was Bucky.

“No.”

“Sweetheart, I could hear you. Clint could hear you and he wears hearing aids.”

I closed my eyes, then fought the urge to cry. He must have heard that because he spoke again, in a softer tone.

“Please, let me come in.”

“Fine.”

The door opened and he stepped inside. He turned the cold water tap on then filled the glass with water. Lowering himself to the floor, he sat next to me, holding out two new painkillers.

“I’m guessing you didn’t keep the last ones down,” he said. “You really tied one on last night.”

“Yeah, well, I was trying to forget,” I answered, taking the pills and holding them in my hand.

I took the water in my other hand and sipped it. When my stomach felt better, I swallowed the pills and washed them down with more water. Without thinking, I sighed, and put the glass down on the floor, reaching for some toilet paper so I could blow my nose. Bucky said nothing.

“Aren’t you going to ask what I’m trying to forget?”

“I have a pretty good idea,” he answered, just a little too quickly. “I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk to you. I kind of got carried away.”

I huffed a little. “Why do you act like you do?”

“No excuse for that,” he answered. “None that are valid, other than making up for lost time. Even that is suspect.”

“What do you mean?”

Sighing, then scratching his stubble with his fingers, he turned those blue eyes on me.

“I’ve been trying to make you jealous,” he said. “Juvenile I know. I can turn on the charm for most women, but for the one who I really want, I can’t seem to say the right thing. It makes you respond in kind and instead of us getting closer, it just pushes us further apart.”

“You want me? I find that hard to believe.”

“Why? You’re beautiful, smart, and you have a razor-sharp wit that I love. The worst of it is that other guys see it too, so I got a little prehistoric and bared my teeth at them, figuratively speaking. I’m sorry about that. You deserve better.”

“It hurt when you would bring all those women back here,” I said, frowning. “Then you pulled that double standard shit on me, by chasing away my dates.”

“I know. Guilty as charged. No excuses.” He breathed out. “You know how my senses are amplified?” I nodded. “None of them smelled as good as you. That probably sounds weird, but their scents were all chemical and fake compared to you.”

It was weird. “What did I smell like?”

“Home.”

“What exactly does that mean?”

Before I could say anything else, he kissed me, even though my mouth must have tasted of barf. He didn’t care, and it was the best kiss I ever had, making me feel weak and dizzy and aroused all at the same time. Then he pulled me onto his lap and kissed me some more, while putting one hand around to the nape of my neck while the other one wrapped around my body. Just as I was really getting into it, he stopped, then cupped my jaw in his one hand.

“You need to have a shower and brush your teeth.”

“You kissed me,” I countered. “I figured it didn’t matter.”

“It matters. I just wanted you to know as soon as possible.”

“Know what?”

“That you know you love me.” That smirk came out, along with the lens flare on those perfect teeth. Just as I was about to argue the point, he kissed me again. “I love you, too and I’ll tell you that in public and private as many times as I can until you believe it.”

He lifted me off of his lap and deposited me on the bathroom floor. Then he stood up and went to the door, looking back at me.

“You’re so cute when you don’t know what to say. I’ll be out here waiting for you.”

He thought I was cute. At my age I would take it. He was right about several things. I did know that I loved him. Now that I knew for sure that he loved me too, it was going to be interesting finding out where that love would take us.

One Shots Masterlist

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theoneandonlysourcandy · 4 months ago

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Henry hotline x reader headcanons (but this time there’s a WHOLE BUNCH)

So I feel like the last Henry headcanons have been too short, I want to feed y’all (and myself) a three course meal, so, I’m just gonna be putting anything about Henry hotline I can think of here and hope for the best!! Enjoy my cringe slop

☎️- Alright, first off, he LOVES giving you any sort of affection, and will constantly hold your hand whenever he’s with you. When sitting next to each other, he’ll put his arm behind you on your chair. Any sort of touch or affection he can get.

☎️- Will tease you sometimes, but never actually be mean to you, he’ll just poke some fun at you, like if your short he’ll say “How’s the weather down there” or something.

☎️- Speaking of being short, if you were, he’d lean on you with his arm, like putting it on your head or shoulder. Unless you don’t want him too, though. Otherwise your permanently his wall to lean on.

☎️- SHOWERS you in gifts, I under exaggerated how much he gives you gifts in my first post. Anywhere he goes, he’s getting you a gift. It’s honestly insane just how much stuff you have from this guy, and most of it is pretty fancy.

☎️- He’s definitely rich as fuck. No doubt. If you want something, your getting it. A necklace? It’s already on your neck. A new phone? Of course, just don’t call him too often with it. Even if you feel bad about spending so much of his money, he’ll just reassure you that he’s got plenty. More than plenty, actually.

☎️- He’d get jealous often, not like super annoyingly often where if you talk to someone other than him he’d be mad, he’ll just get a little jealous often when your talking to Frankie or deputy duck-actually, HUGE emphasis on deputy duck. He hates that bitch, if he sees you talking to him he’s immediately coming up and joining the conversation, while giving deputy duck a VERY obvious glare.

☎️- Cuddles you all the time. He loves having your head on his chest while you two watch some corny movie together, or just having you in his arms. He never wants to let go once he’s got you cuddled up in a bunch of warm blankets together.

☎️- Brags about you 24/7, will not shut the fuck up about you when your not around, he’s practically driving Frankie insane.

☎️- Never ever in a million years will he ever want kids, but, he’ll happily marry you without a second thought! Just. . No kids. His headaches are already terrible enough, he doesn’t need anymore screaming kids around him, he’s got enough of them to deal with at the park. And they CONSTANTLY call him!

☎️- Loves to take you out on fancy dates, if you couldn’t tell already, he absolutely loves spoiling you.

☎️- Someone’s making you uncomfortable? He is absolutely livid. He’s immediately coming over and putting an arm around your waist before they can try anything else, and gives them the most passive aggressive smile you’ve seen from him, and you’ve seen those smiles before from his bad temper.

☎️- Speaking of his temper, sometimes he’ll snap at you thinking your someone working on his show or something, but as soon as he realizes it’s you, he apologizes profusely. He feels so bad about it, he didn’t mean to upset you, he’d never want to.

☎️- He’s both a cat and a dog person, he just can’t really choose. Cats are nice, calm and cuddly, but he also loves the energy from dogs and playing with them. If you want to get a cat or a dog, he’s all for it, he doesn’t care which one you want either. If your happy, he’s happy.

☎️- He can start arguments pretty easily with his constant headache, but each time he feels really bad about it, muttering apologies and finding a really nice gift to make you feel better. He’s usually a really good with words and an absolute flirt, but after an argument, he can’t even say a single sentence correctly.

☎️- Speaking of flirting, he does it constantly. Flirts, loving teases, the whole nine yards. His ultimate goal is to make you blush like a tomato. Of course, if your mad or being serious he won’t, but otherwise, he’s cooking tomatoes.

I was in a online class Making This and the teacher randomly called my name and I panicked and scared my cat, hope you guys I was giggling and kicking my feet making this hes LITERALLY my husband Im literally Henry hotlines number 1 fan (btw, if anyone’s been looking for some Henry hotline bots on character ai, I can give y’all my account name so y’all can check out mine, there’s like NO finding Frankie bots and I wanna change that)

#henry hotline #finding frankie deputy duck #finding frankie frankie #finding frankie #finding frankie henry hotline #Henry hotline x reader #Henry hotline headcanons #Henry hotline x reader headcanons #feast my children

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bonesxbows · 30 days ago

Text

Brain & Heart (Lucifer X Reader)

My Masterlist

It's Valentine's Day; the most romantic day of the year. For most. For you, it's another reminder of just how...different you are. Society, even in Hell, expects you to act a certain way on this holiday, so you do, despite the overwhelming distress it causes you. That is until Lucifer notices just what these expectations are doing to you and he promptly puts a stop to it.

(WARNINGS)

Ace (Asexual) spectrum reader

Female reader

Plus size/chubby/heavier build reader

Talk of pressures of societal expectations

Negative self image talk

Bullying about weight issues

Descriptions of anxiety/panic attack behaviors and feelings

This is dedicated to myself, @heart-of-the-morningstar , and anyone else who falls on the ace spectrum and has a hard time with this particularly bittersweet holiday. I speedran this bitch just to get it out in time before today was over. Have a (sorta) happy Valentine's Day <3

Banners by @strangergraphics

Your insides churned. Your head spun. Your heart pounded in your ears, eyes threatening to pool over with tears. And you wanted to tear your own skin off with the way your clothes consistently rubbed against it all wrong.

You were going to throw up. Or pass out. Or both. Preferably both, you reckoned.

Charlie had insisted on throwing a party at the hotel tonight to celebrate the human world holiday. Valentine’s Day, they called it, though you had stopped paying attention to it long before you had even arrived in Hell. It was still well and thriving down in the fiery depths, however, fake love and sex appeal amplified to eleven all week. It was driving you absolutely mad.

But you could hide away from the populace and the advertisements til this all blew over, that wasn’t the hard part. What was sending you into a frenzy and had tipped you over the edge into insanity had been the invitation to this blasted party. Lucifer had been ecstatic to go, excitement coursing through him like a puppy once he learned that his daughter had once again invited him to something, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him you’d rather chew your own leg off than be surrounded by certified Love Day vomit.

So here you were; hyperventilating in a fitting room in some shitty clothing store in the middle of Pentagram City instead of being locked away in a cozy cocoon of blankets, watching dumb comedy movies and halfway lost in a tub of ice cream like you had been doing for the past week.

No one had told you to come here. No one had insisted that you needed to buy a new dress for tonight. No, you had decided that all on your own, you had thrown this misery onto yourself. But it was expected of you, wasn’t it? If you didn’t show up tonight on Lucifer’s arm in something revealing, flashy, and seductive, then you’d be the laughingstock of the whole hotel. Whether they said it to your face or not. It was Valentine’s Day, and that equaled sexiness. Or so the rest of the Pride Ring told you so.

But for you? The whole idea made you want to reel in disgust. It was just so…unlike you. All this lace, and frills, and low cut necklines, and high slits, and too tight corsets, and barely there straps. Trying to find anything that fit comfortably was becoming an uphill battle.

This was now the third store you had been to and currently you had on a black velvet dress; corseted at the waist and flowing down to your knees, a high slit sliced up to your hipbone and two pieces of fabric draped off the sides of the top of the corset to act as sleeves. You could barely breathe as it smushed your chest in all the wrong places. Tears pricked at your eyes as you nearly tore the wretched thing off of you, throwing it into a black heap on the ground. You aggressively wiped your eyes as you got dressed in your own clothes.

When you exited the room you found a store attendant, politely handing her the dresses that you had taken with you. Swallowing your embarrassment you asked her, “Would you by chance have any other dresses besides these? Perhaps…um…in a bigger size as well?”

She looked you up and down, her snake eyes burning holes into your skull. You wanted to disappear right then and there for even asking her. Either she didn’t recognize who you were, didn’t care, or felt particularly brave because Lucifer wasn’t currently with you. “I don’t think we’ll have anythin’ that’ll fit you, hon. We don’t sell dresses that flatter your…certain…body shape. Too form fittin’, if you ask me. You’ll wanna hide…all a’ that, try the shop down the street. They cater to your clientele.” She snatched the dresses out of your hand, avoiding contact with you as if the mere touch with you was gross to her, before she strutted away, her too-tall heels clicking condescendingly against the floor behind you.

You bolted out of the door before anyone else in the store could see you.

It took about another hour but you finally worked up the courage to finally walk into another clothing store. You couldn’t go back empty-handed, but you’d take anything at this point, just so you could go home.

A tiny bell jingled above your head, a small frown etched into your face at the task laying in front of you. There was a wild assortment of dresses to choose from, in a wide array of colors. You sighed, already defeated and on the verge of giving up. You weren’t sure how many more humiliating dressing room incidents you could handle. So you grabbed the first basic dress you saw; a blood red simple-looking thing vaguely in your size.

You sulked to the dressing room and went through the motions for the umpteenth time that day, pulling the satin fabric over your body. It wasn’t super unflattering per se, the babydoll shape sitting right at your waist and the bust fitting more or less comfortably. You could at least breathe without struggling this time. But there was still that infuriating slit, revealing your entire thigh, and the neckline sat way too low for your liking. But it was good enough. It would have to be. You were done. You just wanted to go home.

Lucifer was waiting for you when you arrived home, nearly toppling you over as he pounced on you as soon as you stepped foot inside. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his smile lighting up the room as he lifted you up and spun you around.

“Ducky! You’ve been gone nearly all day! Where’ve you been?” He placed you back down on your feet but still held you in his arms.

“I uh…went shopping. For tonight.” Your voice was flat, exhausted. Dreading putting that blasted dress back on in a mere few hours.

He eyed the bag in your hand, a small smirk growing on his lips. Guilt seeped its way into your veins. You knew what he was expecting and what you had ended up choosing was not the same.

“Oh? Bought something special, did you? A surprise, or do I get a sneak peek before everyone else?” He cocked an eyebrow, his look turning sultry. Your stomach twisted into a knot. Satan, you hated today.

“Um…we’ll see, Luci. I…I need to go get ready.” You needed to be alone. Is what you wanted to tell him, but you didn’t want to douse his excitement. You weaseled out of his grasp, slinking down the hallways toward your shared bedroom as fast as you could.

He followed you for a spell, rushing after you, his smirk replaced with a look of concern. “Wait, ducky, are…are you okay?” He reached out towards you, but you had reached your bedroom door before he could get a hold of you.

“I’m fine, Luci. I just need a moment. Please.” You told him fleetingly, shutting the door in his face as soon as the words left your lips. He stood staring at the wooden surface, eyes wide, unsure of what to do.

You were going to explode.

You grabbed at your hair, tears flowing down your face at what you had just done. You wanted to scream. Instead, you grabbed the nearest pillow off the bed and chucked it against the wall. A dull thud resounded against the plaster. You huffed angrily, half stomping into the bathroom and aggressively pulling out everything you would need to make yourself look at least half decent. You owed him that much after how you had just treated him.

Makeup and hair tools and various jewelry littered the bathroom counter, but yet nothing was looking right. You were on your third makeup look attempt; a subtle red eye look with a sharp eyeliner, mascara, and matching dark, blood-red lipstick. You weren’t satisfied, but you were running out of time. Sighing, you finally slipped on that awful dress before searching the room for the highest pair of heels you owned. You’d probably break an ankle by the end of the night, but at least they would make Lucifer happy. That was all that really mattered tonight.

Again he was waiting for you by the door when you opened it, though this time he seemed more nervous, waiting for you to come to him instead of rushing towards you like before. His eyes lit up at the sight of you, though you didn’t notice at first, with your head downcasted towards the floor.

“You look absolutely breathtaking, ducky.” He whispered. You finally turned your gaze up to meet him, being met with a downright impressive sight when you did. He had changed into an outfit you had never seen before, all black leather, a skin-tight high V-cut crop top accompanied by extremely low-cut pants with heart netting cutouts near his thighs, topped off with a new black and red ringmaster coat around his shoulders. He looked amazing compared to you.

You kept silent, too afraid that your words would betray you and release the waterfalls all over again. You couldn't risk ruining your makeup. Again. So you instead gave him a small smile, the best you could muster through your inner turmoil. He seemed to not notice was what hidden behind it.

He walked forward, taking your arm in his, snapped his fingers, and led you through a glowing portal straight into Charlie’s hotel.

The place was already buzzing with people, music, and lights.

You regretted coming already.

Though you were grateful Lucifer never let go of you as he went around saying hello to all of his daughter’s friends, staying well and clear away from the mop of red and black hair that peeked above the crowd. You were lost in your mind the entire time, seeing the colors and shapes move around you but not really hearing what was happening. You were holding on to Lucifer with a death grip, not letting him leave you for a second. You could feel a thousand eyes on you, everyone in the crowd staring at you, the queen of Hell, half exposed for a few dozen of people to see. On this day of all days, with sex on everyone's mind, you were nothing but eye candy to them. Something to ogle at. A piece of meat to be caught and savored.

You wanted to disappear. You were suffocating from their views.

“Hey,” You heard someone call out. A hand came to rest on your forearm and you instinctively flinched. Whoever it was pulled their hand away immediately when you did. “Sweetheart?”

“She seems a bit tense. You’re sure she’s alright? Perhaps our queen isn’t much of a partygoer.” You heard someone else say with a mocking tone. Static threatening to tickle your ears with their words but you closed your eyes and blocked them out.

“She’s fine.” A closer voice snapped back. “Come on, ducky.” They continued. And then you were being moved, led through the hotel’s hallways with someone’s arms firmly around you. You were brought to a door and once it was opened you were led outside onto a balcony, the city of Hell sleeping below you.

The cold air hit your face like an icy slap, sending a shiver down your spine and forcing you to gulp in a deep breath. It felt like icicles in the back of your throat but it relieved some of the tension in your mind, the cold working its way through your system like a soothing syrup.

You wrapped your arms around yourself to cover your exposed skin, continuously drinking in the frigid air in steady, deep breaths. Like…like you had taught Lucifer to do during his panicked episodes.

“Ducky,” You heard him timidly call out your nickname next to you. He had let go of you as soon as you had stepped foot onto the balcony and now he seemed afraid to touch you, a horrid mixture of fear and worry stuck to his face, uncertainty controlling his limbs.

You flicked your eyes back down to the city below, guilt once again gnawing at your insides. You had ruined the night. “I’m fi-”

There was a gloved finger placed on your lips before you could finish your two-worded sentence. “Don’t, sweetheart. I know you’re not okay.” He removed his silencing finger, not caring about the lipstick that had smeared onto him, and went to lace his hands with yours. “Tell me what’s going on. Please. Let me help you.”

You nearly burst into tears at his words. Your bottom lip trembled and your jaw ached from the building pressure. You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I…I…” But the pressure snapped, muddy blackness pooling at the corners of your eyes and dripping down your face. “I ruined everything.”

A look of confusion flashed across his face as he instinctively went to wipe away your tears, doing his best not to smear the watery makeup all over your face. “What?”

“I ruined everything, Luci!” You sobbed, your tears flowing in earnest now, too quickly for his fingers to keep up. He resorted to just cradling your face and listening to you as you continued. “Tonight was supposed to be special, everybody says it’s supposed to be special, but I don’t even know what that fucking means half the time! Why is it that romance is all about attractiveness and sex and being seductive on this stupid ass holiday? It makes me feel so…so gross!” You screwed your eyes shut and stomped your foot. It was childish, but it felt good to finally say how you felt out loud. “Never mind the fact that I don’t even have the body for it! Do you know how hard it is trying to find a dress that isn’t revealing down here? Let alone one that fits me?” You pulled at your skirt, knocking your knees together in an attempt to keep the slit closed, to no avail.

Lucifer was still, silent, his brow furrowed as he absorbed your words. But after a moment he seemed to make up his mind, being broken out of his frozen state. He let go of your hands and shrugged off his coat, but before you could ask what he was doing he had thrown the warmed clothing over your shoulders. You looked at him, your mouth trying to form words, but he didn’t notice, being occupied by trying to guide your arms into the sleeves of his jacket and clasping the front shut, effectively dressing you in his coat. He looked practically naked without it, being left in his leather crop top and pants, and the cropped nature of the jacket didn’t do much in the way of covering you, but the warmed leather on your bare arms and the smell of sweet apples wafting off of his collar was more than comforting. You weren’t home, not yet, but it was close enough to feel like it.

He looped his arms around your neck, pulling you closer to him, using his body to cover everything that his jacket still left exposed. His touch worked to slowly melt away the rest of your stress.

“Would you like to go home, love?” He asked, his fingers finding the nape of your neck and massaging it soothingly.

“Huh? No, Luci, this is- Charlie invited you and- you were so excited…isn’t this important to you?” You were on the verge of rambling, your eyes going wide at his suggestion. You hated the idea of making tonight about you. Wasn’t that the opposite of what you were supposed to do?

“Not as important as you, ducky. Charlie’ll understand. Sooo, what’ll it be? Choice is all yours, my beautiful angel.” You smiled sheepishly at his compliment, your gaze falling down to the ground. A grin grew onto his face, sharp teeth fully on display.

“I…I’d like that. I’d like to go home. Please.”

“Done! Just let me say goodbye to Charlie, okay? Two seconds, love bug, I promise.” He kissed you on the forehead before letting you go to step through one of his portals, the bustling party just on the other side. The glowing circle zlipped closed as soon as he was through, leaving you alone on the balcony. The silence was deafening, but not overwhelming. It was comforting compared to what the party had sounded like.

A cool wind blew past you, ruffling the tails of Lucifer’s coat and the ends of your skirt. You pulled the sides of his jacket tighter around you, fighting off the chill that threatened to run through you and trying to hide what the wind wanted to expose.

As soon as the wind died down another portal opened up and Lucifer stepped back onto the balcony. He grabbed your hand and laced his fingers in yours as the portal shifted behind him. The slightly distorted view of the party died out and was instead replaced with the comforting sight of your shared bedroom.

In one swift motion Lucifer scooped you up into his arms, being extra careful to not let your clothing sway out of place from the quick movement. You shrieked out of surprise, throwing your arms around his neck and clutching onto his shoulders for support as soon as you were lifted off of your feet. He chuckled softly, shifting your body against his so that your front was facing him, what was left of your exposed skin now blocked by his frame.

He carried you through his portal, back into the familiar comfort and safety of your home, and placed you on your bed. He turned on a bedside lamp to get rid of the surrounding darkness and then he left your side for only a moment, making his way to a nearby dresser. You took the time as an opportunity to start shedding your horrid outfit. The sooner the better.

But he heard your movements and stopped his search through the various dresser drawers, turning back around to face you. You were halfway done working off one of the clasps to those infernal heels when he interrupted you.

“Oh no no no, allow me, sweetheart.” He rushed over, kneeling in front of you and placing his hands on top of yours to stop your motions. He swatted your hands away and started unbuckling the clasps himself before you could argue.

“You don’t have to, Luci, I can do it.” You told him regardless. Three seconds later he had one heel off. You hadn’t realized how much your feet had been hurting until they started screaming at you once the shoe was off.

“But I want to, ducky.” He retorted, working at the buckles of the other heel, his claws making short work of it. He stood up and walked back over to the dresser, taking the discarded shoes with him. You didn’t have the energy, or the heart, to argue with him anymore, so you sat patiently and waited for him to return.

When he did he held two pieces of clothing in his hands, two pieces you instantly recognized. A hoodie and matching pair of sweatpants you always wore, particularly on days when you wanted to hide yourself away from the world. He laid them on the bed beside you for now.

“Do you want me to help you with your dress or would you rather change in private?” He asked, giving you full control over the situation. You merely shrugged off his jacket and stood up, turning around to give him access to the dress’s zipper. He worked quietly, unzipping the dreadful thing and letting it pool to a heap at your feet. It was soon replaced with your hoodie coming over your head. “I figured you’d wanna be in something more comfortable after…all that.” He said as his hands guided the shirt down over your body as your arms instinctively found the sleeves. “I’ve always seen you wear this, so I assumed it was a safe option.” His eyes never wandered, not even once, as he knelt down again to help you into your sweats. Both articles of clothing were extremely oversized, hanging off of you like a blanket, but that was what made them so appealing on days like this.

You pulled the drawstring of the sweatpants tighter, tying it into a bow to keep them from falling down. “It’s perfect, love. Thank you.” A small prideful smile found its way onto his lips and he leaned over your shoulder to give you a gentle kiss on the cheek. He snapped his fingers and his leather clothing was soon replaced with his duck-print button-up pajamas, his look now more matching yours on levels of comfortability.

“Cuddles, my angel?” He asked as he began to run his claws through your hair.

“Cuddles.” You agreed, nodding your head. He hopped up onto the bed, situating himself with his back against the headboard before he pulled you on top of him. You locked together like puzzle pieces, your face buried in his chest, his arms wrapped around your shoulders, and your legs tangled together. You sighed contently for the first time that day.

His claws continued to card through your hair soothingly, being careful not to pull at any strands. “You didn’t ruin anything, you know.” You looked at him, and he continued once he had your attention. “I didn’t care what we did today, so long as it was with you. Besides Charlie, you’re all that really matters to me, not some silly rules made up for a human holiday.” He kissed the top of your head once he was finished.

You didn’t know what to say, exhaustion starting to settle in your bones in earnest. So you just hummed in understanding, to let him know you had heard him and acknowledged what he had said. Your eyes fell closed from his rhythmic motions against your scalp and his heartbeat thumping underneath your ears. An angelic lullaby reserved only for you.

A silence fell over the two of you for a while. Long enough that you were almost on the verge of sleep before he called out to you again. “I remember what you said, you know, about yourself. I think you’re beautiful, ducky. Gorgeous, even. No matter what your body looks like,” He paused, using his free hand to lace your fingers in between his, squeezing it gently. “You’ll always be beautiful to me.”

#my writings #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin

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saturneras · 4 days ago

Text

Private Eyes II

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: It has been a couple of weeks and the job has worked you to the bone. You haven't finished your shift at the station once during daylight hours and the tasks keep piling up. The worst of it all? Joel Miller has made himself scarce and you only ever see him leaving the office exactly when you appear. One could assume he is trying to avoid you on purpose. Be as it may, after what happened in the archives, you are not letting him off the hook this easily. After all it is your brother's poker night and you know a certain chief of police who hasn't missed a game in weeks. Isn't it a wonderful night for a game?

Note: I am so happy you guys liked the first part and I hope this one makes you kick your feet.

Part I

When you sort the last report into the file and place them on the rookie's desk, you let out a big sigh. Finished. And it is not even eight o'clock. What a win. Almost everyone is already gone for the night and as you gather your jacket out of the little cubicle Lori assigned you on your first day, Daniel calls out from behind you.

"Still here?"

"Justice never sleeps,” you joke and pull on your jacket.

He grins, "I feel like this is something I should say."

His smile is handsome, attractive even. His uniform is very well fitted and you can tell that he probably works out regularly. Does seem like a guy who drinks an insane amount of protein shakes and doesn't do caffeine though.

You shrug and grab your bag. "You can use it, I won't tell."

Another laugh and you brush past him toward the door. If you’re quick you’ll catch them right when they’ve already had a drink or two. Alcohol makes for lose tongues and quick tempers, equaling lots of fun.

“You need a ride?” Daniel asks.

You shake your head. "I'm good, but thanks."

Before you turn around again, Daniel takes a step toward you. "It's no problem, really. I'm just finishing up myself."

"Actually," you reply. "I'm just on my way down to Mickey's."

His eyebrows lift up. "Oh no way, I was just heading over there myself."

That's probably a lie and you can tell by the way he so desperately wants to seem nonchalant, but you don't care and would rather take the 10 minute drive than walk for 30 in this heat.

"Oh, what a coincidence," you say and can't help the slight sarcastic undertone. You like Daniel, just as much as the next girl likes a nice guy. He has had you work on some reports he had to write and let you draft up a proposal to the city for some funding allocations last week that you actually put a lot of work into. But you can't shake the feeling that he seems like the kind of guy to take credit for other people's work.

"Yeah," he says and smiles easily. "Funny."

"I just need to change really quick, is that okay?"

Daniel nods, "Of course, take your time."

You quickly change into some jeans and a white tee in the women's changing rooms.

Out in the station's parking lot he opens the door for you. Daniel drives a BMW, which does seem like quite a fancy car for a police officer. "You like the car?" He asks.

You can't help but chuckle slightly at his eager tone. You don't really care for cars, but reply, "Sure."

Daniel starts the engine and you smoothly glide out of the parking lot and the buildings rush past you on the side of the street. You lean back into the seat a little and close your eyes for a second, letting the work day fall away.

"Have you been settling in nicely?" Daniel breaks the sweet silence between you two.

You turn your head to face him and say, "You do know that this is my hometown, right?"

He laughs as if you had made a joke. "Oh sure, sure, I just meant with the station and all."

"It's a lot of work," you reply honestly. "I just wish I could see some operations, some action, you know?"

"Right," Daniel replies. "The chief likes you in the back office, huh?"

"I don't think the chief likes me to do anything," you say a little too snappy.

Daniel grins. "He isn't the most accommodating person here, let's be real."

When you say nothing, he adds, "But not everybody is like that. I really appreciate all the stuff you've been helping me out with. Your report was really good, by the way. Maybe I can take you out on a ride that's not too dangerous some time."

"Sounds good," you say. "I'm glad I could help."

"It actually went pretty well, the city agreed to all the terms you suggested. You're really good at this."

You laugh. "Maybe they're just easily convinced."

Right when you pull up into the parking lot at Mickey's, Daniel says, "I bet you can be pretty irresistible, huh?"

You know how this goes and are not in the mood for a "I'm just a nice guy trying to be nice" kind of conversation and just ignore the comment. He pulls into a spot in front of the entrance and you can't make out your brother's truck anywhere. Maybe you've mixed up the days?

When you step into the bar, the first couple of notes of Two Dozen Roses fills the air and your ears immediately. You've always liked it here, even though as a teenager you never used to drink go. Mickey's seemed more like a bar for dads and older brother's who didn't like to talk or listen to anything other than country. And as a 19 year old all you want to do is talk and listen to anything but country. You can tell Daniel is somewhere behind you, rambling about something.

"I'll go get us a drink," Daniel says and puts one hand softly on your back faster than you can react and struts off to the bar.

You take a look around and see the usual crowd hanging around the bar and the little dance floor. But just as ocean calls to the shore, you can sense his eyes on you even before you spot him a couple of tables further in the back. He is sitting facing the entrance, like a good chief of police should, in between his brother Tommy and some guy you haven't seen before. You spot your brother with his back turned toward you, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

"You should've thought of that before you invited him to join, Tommy," Casey says between laughs.

Joel Miller hasn't stopped looking at you this whole time you're standing in the middle of the room. His eyes are like honey stuck to a spoon, lazily clinging to every bit of you. The chief also has changed out of his usual white shirt and tie and is wearing a dark green flannel that stretches over his chest the moment he leans back into his chair, taking a sip of his drink. The ice cubes slide toward his mouth and the thought of the warmth of his lips melting the ice with each sip hits you like a curveball. For some reason, inexplicable to you, it makes your stomach tighten. Okay, that's a lie. You can admit, perfectly indifferent, of course that Joel Miller is .. not hard to look at. His dark eyes are still on you. Taunting. As if he's reading your mind, he raises his right eyebrow and you can't help but make your way over, as if he's got some gravitational pull forcing you to submit. Calling something inside of you that you hadn't realised was there.

"Well well well," Tommy says loudly. "Who do we have here? Isn't it the future attorney general?"

You can't help but smile at Tommy, who gets up immediately, moving around the table to engulf you in a tight hug. He is the friendliest man you've ever met and you're happy your brother chose someone so lovely to build a business with. Casey turns his head and grins.

"Off before midnight?" Casey asks mockingly. "What's gotten into you?"

"Midnight?" Tommy barks. "What have you been making her do, Joel?"

All eyes turn to him and he doesn't even flinch, just looks at his brother and says, "Nothing she can't handle."

Your eyes meet for a split second and then he glances at his brother again.

"This sounds like a case of employee exploitation, if you ask me," Tommy says.

"Nobody did," Joel replies gruffly and gets up from his seat.

"Hey," Tommy turns to me. "You want a drink?"

Just in time, Daniel materialises behind us, two bottles in his hands. "Hey, guys."

Casey turns toward the table again, mumbling something that did sound quite a lot like hell nah. It takes a second before Tommy's furrowed brows ease up and he smiles. "You brought the little Sheriff?"

"Who?" You ask, confused.

Tommy points to Daniel, whispering in my ear. "His dad is the Sheriff."

"Oh," you say. "I didn't know."

Tommy nods and takes the beer out of Daniel's hand. "Thanks bud, you play poker?"

Daniel looks as if he might protest but then remains silent and nods his head.

"You can join if you want," Tommy suggests and elicits a muffled groan by Casey and the other guy. "I think Joel has stripped us of enough money tonight."

"Yeah, sure," Daniel nods eagerly. "I just need to call my Dad to let him know I won't make it to dinner."

Joel huffs and grabs his glass from table. You take a step back and let Daniel slip into Tommy's seat, while Tommy mumbles something into his brothers ears and pats him on the back. Joel turns around and heads for the bar. You watch him go and then watch them play for a bit. You've played enough poker with your dad that you realise they're all trying hard not to make Daniel look like an idiot, who continuously makes every possible mistake.

"I'll be right back," you say to Casey and make your way to the bar, turning left toward the restrooms. Behind a cherry red door leads a narrow hallway. You open the heavy door and after having stepped inside for a couple of steps, collide with the broad chest dressed in a dark green flannel button down.

"Didn't I tell you to be more careful?" His voice is calm and has the tiniest bit of bite to it.

"I probably wasn't listening," you reply.

"Why did you bring your puppy?" He says.

"My what?" You say and then realise who he is talking about. "Oh, Daniel just gave me a ride from work."

"Since when do you dress for work like this?" Joel's eyes graze down your body in a calculated measure. You think you must imagine the way his eyes darken when they roam over your white shirt. And you can't help but cross your arms under his scrutiny, feeling like it's burning through you.

"You know there are changing rooms at the station and you would know what I had been wearing to work if you would ever bother to show up yourself."

Now it is his time to cross his arms defensively. "I've been busy."

"With what?" You press.

"With shit that is none of your concern," he replies roughly.

"So it is only my concern, when you need someone to do your shitty paperwork?"

"You wanted to see how the real world works," he says. "There you go."

"Daniel at least lets me do some actual work and not just digitalise files from the 70s," you say.

"I knew he did not fucking write that report," Joel mumbles more to himself than you. "He shouldn't have done that."

"I enjoyed writing it."

"I don't care if it made your little lawyer heart race," he says. "It was Riley's job and he didn't do it."

"It got done, didn't it?" You say.

"That's not the point," Joel says sharply. "He had a direct order and he disobeyed it. It's not your job to do his work. I assigned him that task to make him familiarise himself with the issues our station is facing."

You stay silent and Joel clears his throat.

"Never mind, he'll hear the end of this."

"I didn't realise I was disobeying your order," You say.

Joel furrows his brows. "You weren't."

"You sure?"

"Believe me," he replies. "If you were disobeying my orders, you would know."

His gaze is lowered down to you and you feel your body tensing.

You let your arms fall to your sides and slightly lean forward. "Remind me to never disobey your orders then."

"Following orders does not seem like your strong suit." His face remains impassive.

You grin slightly and focus on his face. It would only take one small step to close the distance between you two. Not even a second.

Once again his eyes have turned to molten chocolate and you can't help but watch their specks of gold catch the dim light. He looks like he hasn't shaved is beard in a couple of days and you wonder what his stubble feels like scraping against your neck. The sudden thought surprises you. How would it feel to be pressed against his front with his arm around you and his tongue on your neck? The sudden image of it runs on a loop inside of your head, when Joel interrupts, "Casey can't drive you home. He's been drinking."

The change of subject confuses you for a second, as if you both were watching the same movie but he switched the channel.

"I know," you say. "But I'm staying a bit later anyways."

"You need to call your daddy first, too?" Joel asks, raising his eyebrow. And you know he cannot not like this, enjoy this understanding between the two of you.

"Which one?" You retort and he isn't quick enough at hiding his surprise.

He grunts and leans the slightest bit toward you. "Why do I feel like a broken record when I tell you to watch your goddamn tone."

"Maybe you should ask nicely," you say.

"That is not something you should say to your boss, sweetheart" Joel says.

"As I am officially clocked out and due to you not carrying your badge or your gun it is safe for me to assume you are off duty. So technically, you're not acting as my boss right now, sir."

"Just because you can't see it, does not mean it isn't there," Joel says and you raise your eyebrows.

"A grower not a shower, huh?"

Joel's eyes narrow. "You need to watch it, Darlin'."

He turns his body, forcing you to do the same, so your back is pressed against the wall of the hallway. You're trying to concentrate on his words but his smell makes its way up your nose and seems to cloud your brain. He is so close that you can feel his hot breath on your skin, laced with a hint of whiskey. You thought it would be much easier to navigate this conversation but now it seems almost redundant and you slowly forget why you wanted to talk in the first place.

He raises his arm and places one hand next to your head. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a piece of work?"

Your chin raises slightly in defiance. "You're not the first one who has given me such a compliment."

Joel's jeans touch your bare legs and if he wanted to he could flush your bodies by the push of his hips. He is towering over you, his eyes looking like they're looking for something on your face, they haven't been able to find yet. And you feel like telling him you want him to never stop searching for it. You hear the first couple of notes of Chris Stapelton's "You Should Probably Leave" resound from the bar, as he lifts his other hand slowly as if not to startle you.

When his large hand has almost touched your hip, he says, "Let's see if I'll be the la-"

The door to the bar opens and Joel immediately yanks his hands away and puts two step between you.

Daniel appears in the doorway and his eyes widen in surprise. "Oh, there you are."

"Here I am," you say, trying to sound relaxed. Probably failing. What the fuck was that just now?

"I was just gonna say that your brother just headed out over to Tommy's house for more drinks and I need to go to my dad's house to pick some stuff up," he says.

It takes you a second to figure out that he is waiting for you to relieve him of the duty to give you a ride home.

"No worries, I'll just get an Uber," you say exactly at the same time Joel says, "I'll take her."

You turn around and glare at him. "That won't be necessary."

"Awesome," Daniel exclaims. "Thanks, Chief. See you tomorrow."

And with that he steps back into the bar, leaving you standing there with Joel.

"I can just get an Uber, it's no big deal."

"I'm taking you home and it's not a topic of discussion, so you can shut it," he says and starts walking toward the door. You follow his steps quickly.

"I am an adult, I can get home by myself," you protest.

"Do you even know how many women get kidnapped or assaulted by their driver?"

"This isn't New York, Miller," you say. "We are in Texas."

"What do you think I'm doing at my job?" Joel says and opens the bar entrance door for you to walk through. "Cutting ribbons and issuing speeding tickets?"

"Something like that," you say and stop in front of his truck.

"Why do you think we established our office hours for women?" He looks at you as if he's actually waiting for a response, but you know he isn't. "People are dangerous and it is my job to protect you."

"I don't need protection," you snap and add, "From you."

"You might not need it," Joel says, opening the passenger door. "But you sure as hell will get it. Now get in the truck."

You don't attempt to make a move and he shifts his weight.

"It might make it easier," Joel warns. "But I don't need a badge nor gun to make you get into this truck, Darlin'."

"I'd love to see you try," you press and almost see a grin appear on Joel's face.

"I ain't above throwing you over my shoulder."

"Is that supposed to make me feel scared?"

He stoically remains next to the passenger door and just watches you. "Just get in the goddamn car, will ya?" Once again is voice is pure cool ice and it impresses you how he can say something so decisively, leaving no room for disobedience.

You sigh and walk toward him, stepping onto the side step of his truck. Now you're at his eye level and without thinking, your head moves to the side, hovering directly in front of his. A strand of hair has fallen from his head into his eyes and you feel the urge to push it back. The urge to run your fingers through his hair hasn't faded ever since that moment in the archives. When his eyes lower themselves and cling to your lips, you can't help but release a soft breath. His jaw clenches almost imperceptibly, but he slowly steps out of the door and moves to the side for you to sit down.

You wait for him to shut the door but it doesn't happen. Instead you suddenly feel that familiar breath on the side of your neck, dancing down your neckline. Goosebumps give away your receptiveness to his warmth, but you can't turn your head, you can't risk to look.

Joel has one arm propped on the car, one is holding the door. His shirt is pulled across his chest, revealing a slither of his tanned skin. You inhale shakily, when he whispers only for you to hear.

"And I didn't even need to ask nicely," he says. "Such a good girl."

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