#I think we all know who this is about but . God. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yieldtotemptation · 3 days ago

Text

ANACHRONISM ft. Mina

mina x male reader smut

part one of strange currencies

14k words

Go ahead, try and pretend like any of this happened by accident.

Like you totally didn’t mean to charm some poor, pretty little thing; dazzle her with the wealth, the fame, the you of it all.

Have her spreading her legs for you, bunching her dress up over her thighs, serving herself up like she’s one of those ludicrously expensive banquets you frequent, pleading—

"God, I need you inside me, like, right this fucking second."

Because here’s the truth of it all, what you’ve come to realise about this woman who has never once in her entire life been reduced to something as pithy as poor or pretty or little; let alone anything short of extraordinary. This wildly successful, elegant to the point of being untouchable, and just really, really fucking gorgeous idol:

Nothing about Myoui Mina is accidental.

Even all this—her idea: showing up at your suite uninvited, leaning against the doorframe, panties hanging off her fingertips. Showing off how ridiculously drenched she is for you and how badly she wants you to do something about it.

If only these walls could talk.

“Hurry up,” she’s gritting out. Deadlocking the door behind her. Still not used to waiting for anything, apparently. “Come on, I need your cum. Anywhere you like. Just inside me. Now.”

You should be more surprised. Instead, you’re laughing. “Patience, darling.”

A step forward, pants hitting the floor, cock in hand. Running the tip of it across her folds, making it shiny with her slick, forcing this sigh from her lips.

You pause, just to make her whine. To make her give you what you really want to hear.

Mina bites her lip.

Squeezes her eyes shut.

She knows the deal.

"Please."

That word, that crack in the composure, the control that Mina is so used to maintaining everywhere else but here. It’s the thrill of it all—the challenge in the attempt. Taking someone like Mina, all perfect posture, sparkling teeth, effortless grace; and bringing her to her knees.

Figuratively speaking, mostly.

Only, her phone lights up.

You look down and see it, left abandoned on the floor somewhere in Mina’s rush to get to you. But now its glow is stark against the dark parquet, beaming with messages by the dozen. All different variations on the same question: where the fuck is she?

Her eyes flicker to the screen, then back up to yours. There's a silent conversation happening there—desire fighting with duty, lust with loyalty.

You make it easy for her.

A push is all it takes, really. Cunt yielding to your will, cock sliding into that ridiculous tightness.

She freezes.

Braces herself.

Whimpers.

“Priorities, Mina,” you grunt through it, breaching in deeper; assaulted by the heat of her cunt around you, choking each inch. “Remember, you asked for this.”

The phone keeps buzzing, panicked vibrations at your feet. Urgent messages becoming calls, flashing faces across the screen. You can see them one-by-one, see Mina’s reaction as they pop up—sighing when she sees her managers name, eyes widening when a rather flirty photo of Chaeyoung comes next, and then her entire body tensing, tightening around you at the next picture:

Her and her boyfriend, arms thrown around each other, both looking all beautiful and famous and so very much in love. The perfect couple; so picturesque it might as well have come right off a billboard.

“God, fuck,” Mina groans out, panting, breathless. “You’d think they’d—ah—just leave me alone for one—single—night—”

“Should we snap some photos? Add them all to a group chat, send them through? Let them see the look on your face and figure it out from there.”

Mischief flashes across her eyes, mouth open to answer back with something that is no doubt clever and suggestive and designed to get you both into far more trouble than you’re already in—but she doesn’t get a word of it out.

You’re slamming into her.

Mina nearly comes apart then and there; eyes snapping shut, neck arching, back banging against the hard, unforgiving wood of the door behind her. Her lips round into this perfect ‘O’ of surprise, and this sweet, sweet needy whine comes slipping out from her throat.

And just like that, she’s all yours again.

It’s not like the phone goes silent—it just stops mattering.

“Asshole,” she’s saying—grinning now, doing that Mina thing where she says one thing but means another, expecting you to read the underneath. Which this time is—touch me, pull me close, pin me and keep me fucking trapped while you fuck the air right out of my lungs.

“Now there’s an idea.” You’re kissing her, tongue past her lips, tasting the rush of the forbidden, the lines she’s crossing just so she can have you filling up her cunt.

And there’s all this noise—the sound of your cock thrusting into her, skin against skin, shaft into wetness; the buzzing of the phone, her cries of your name dying in your mouth.

Oh, you know it’s going to be brutal if anyone was to overhear, if you’re caught and all this gets out. The narratives that will be crafted, the cliché of it all, the sizzling hot headlines that will undoubtedly paint her, as they are wont to do, in a million different unfair ways.

Seductress. Gold-digger. Slut.

But even as you’re fucking her deep, lips marking up her skin, digging your fingers into the meat of her ass and making Mina cum so hard that all she can say is— “please, please, please,”

—you know the facts, no matter who’s begging who under the shine of the outrageously garish chandelier hanging overhead:

You're the one that chased her first.

—

(It’s incredibly fitting that this whole thing started with a celebration.)

—

Taking a step back, to months earlier, at a gala:

Where it’s becoming apparent to you, and seemingly, just you, that Mina’s the only one here that doesn’t look entirely out of place.

Or at least, she’s the only one that seems to fit amongst the grandeur; the imposing pillars and archways, the ornate cornices, the glint of gold and jade beneath the soft glow of paper lanterns, and the shadow of the palace itself, cast over the sprawling garden like a looming guardian.

The anachronism of it all is the concept, or so you’ve been told. The new, the future—your company—against the backdrop of the old, the traditional. A fusion event, meant to celebrate and honour the past right before yanking it to the future; and yet it all somehow feels so…

Boring.

The same faces, the same games; sharks in a sea of corporate sabotage and political machinations. They’ll smile for you, sing your praises to the highest heavens, do everything they can to make you remember their name—right up until the moment you show your back.

All this to say, it’s going to be very hard to last four hours without wanting to punch someone in the face just to make things slightly more interesting.

(Oh come, one and all. Throw yourselves at the feet of Korea’s youngest self-made billionaire, and hope that by some stroke of luck or misplaced charm, you might just catch a crumb from his table.

That’s what this whole exhausting circus feels like to you.)

So, when you’re about done with what seems like the hundredth round of fake laughs and vacuous pleasantries with yet another politician who’s trying to sell you on the importance of family, and coincidentally, his very marriageable daughter, you make your escape.

Something about needing a drink.

Ease out of the circle, let the noise of the gala swallow you up like you were never there, and navigate across the garden to the bar.

Where you find her.

Mina, something of an anachronism herself; looking more at home amongst the pagodas and the cherry blossoms than in the company of suits and ties and plastic smiles. Like she’s been painted onto the scene; rendered in living colour—stark white, midnight black, blue silk. Or cobalt. Maybe azure.

You’ll have to reserve some time later to ask her about the colour of her dress.

What’s important is that she’s alone, which seems like a crime in and of itself, on account of, well, how fucking breathtaking she is. Add that she’s here at all, and it all amounts to some kind of serendipitous miracle.

(An idol, a celebrity, willingly spending her free time in the company of the elitist dregs of society? The world's gone mad.)

You don’t really need an excuse to join her; you know her, technically. Not intimately, but in that same way that everyone in this high society tapestry is threaded together. An award show here, a charity function there—the kind of acquaintance that lets you say hello without raising eyebrows, but not much more.

All this to say it makes some sense to slide yourself onto the barstool to her right, ignoring that the rest are completely unoccupied.

The smile that Mina gives you as you approach is a little sharper than it needs to be, a little too knowing.

“You’re not going to ask if this seat’s taken?”

You return the smile, a mirror image of hers, and lean onto the bar. You don’t even need to look at the bartender; your drink is in your hand, cold and crisp, the second you set it down. “I thought I’d risk it.”

“Neat trick,” Mina says, posting her chin on one hand, watching the sleek liquid slide down your throat. She’s got a flute of champagne in front of her, untouched.

There’s a gravity to her, you’re realising only when you’re this close. Something in the way the moonlight's kissing her skin, a blend of porcelain and peaches, glowing. Maybe that’s why she’s been left alone; the other guests were smart enough not to get swallowed up in it all. Better to appreciate at a distance than to drown in it.

She regards you for a beat, runs a finger around the rim of her glass. "Shouldn't you be off being the centre of attention somewhere? Shaking hands, kissing babies, that whole bag?”

“Nah," you’re dismissive, looking back out to the crowd milling about, lost in their own conversations and power plays. "This whole thing's more for them than it is for me."

Mina scoffs. Raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. You follow her eyes—across the banners, the placards, the giant projection cast onto the palace itself.

A brushstroke circle—the logo you designed—swirling around, stamping itself on what was once a symbol of absolute power, now reduced to just another stage for the rich and the elite and all their insignificant little games.

You feel the need to clarify. “For the company.”

Mina ripostes. “That just so happens to be named after you.”

“Just one of those funny coincidences.”

“Apparently so.”

It does occur to you that it should be somewhat startling how instantly familiar you feel around Mina. Slipping into casual conversation—light jabs, coded compliments; all soaked in insinuation. Just enough edge and implication to keep you on your toes.

There's an ease to her, to how she smiles, how she laughs, how she just sits there, all drop-dead gorgeous and oh, this? Nothing special, just how I always am.

So it’s only natural that somewhere in all this easy banter, between your third drink and her second, her hand lands on your forearm, your knee brushes against hers and you both decide to stop being so subtle.

You pick your moment, as she’s thumbing through a menu of drinks she’s already deciding she doesn’t want, to try to solve the mystery of her. Past the red of her lips, the edge of her jaw, the hollow of her throat. Along the neckline of her dress, where the silk clings like it’s afraid of letting go, and down to where it dips and angles out; the open shoulder, the collarbone, the swell underneath.

It’s the sum of it all, you’re realising. The dress, the look, the woman.

(Accentuate without revealing. Tease without giving away the prize. Show off that flawless ass and dare the world not to look. And yeah, they fucking look. They all do.

You’re just the only one that doesn’t look away when you're caught.)

But now, you could reach out and touch her; unlatch the straps of her heels, run your fingers from her ankle up, up over the smooth expanse of her calf, her knee, the bare skin of her thigh right where her dress decides to daringly split, and underneath, until your hand is filled with the heat of her and all she knows is you.

You could complete her. Or she, you, you think.

Only, there’s a slight misstep in an otherwise immaculate ensemble.

A necklace.

A ridiculous, ugly, tacky thing. Hanging off her like a misplaced jewel on a swan; more ‘costume party’ than ‘refined modern gala’. Fighting the simplicity of her gown, offensively jarring, especially against the serenity of the moonlit garden.

Mina notices you staring. “A gift.”

“Boyfriend,” you realise, doing the math in your head. A careless present, given by someone who doesn’t know (or doesn’t care to know) her. Hoping the flash, the dollars spent overshadows the unfamiliarity.

(It doesn’t.)

“Partner,” Mina confirms. There’s a slight dip at the corner of her mouth, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it flash of something unpleasant. It disappears as soon as it comes, but you caught it. “A little too old to have a boyfriend.”

“Hm.” You click your tongue. Narrow your eyes. You’ve been told that it makes you appear disarming. “And where is this partner?”

Mina’s smile returns. She takes her first sip of champagne. “You tell me. Don’t you sign off on all the invites?”

“Just the important ones.”

“Even so, not like he would have come if he was invited.” Mina leaves you to fill in the gaps. “A tad too public. For the both of us, really.”

“I see.”

And you do. You’ve seen your fair share of these types of arrangements, participated in a few, even. At the beginning, the secret of it all, the cloak and dagger; it’s exhilarating. But that only lasts so long. Eventually, like all things, it fades. Leaving you with someone who you don’t really see, who you don’t even know, and the sinking realisation that maybe the thrill was the only thing that kept it interesting.

“So,” you lean forward, drawing your conclusion. “You’re here. All alone. Stuck in a relationship with someone dumb enough to let you go out looking like that.”

“Careful.”

“It’s just,” you offer, your gaze lingering on her throat, “You don’t strike me as the type to settle for anything less than you deserve, Mina.”

That makes Mina pause. Almost flinch. Imperceptibly if you weren’t looking so closely at her lips. The sound of her name rolling off your tongue, like it's always been there, waiting to escape—it has her reeling.

And yet, somehow, she recovers.

“Because you know me so well.”

So, you switch up, throw a curveball. “Is it the sex?”

To her credit, Mina barely reacts to that provocation, as if she was expecting the follow up. Just takes another sip of her champagne with a grace that seems rehearsed. You’ll have to try harder.

She shrugs a bare shoulder.

"Sex is just sex. It’s not everything."

“So, no sex at all, then.”

Mina’s smile is like a knife’s edge. “Are you always this forward?”

“All I’m saying,” you keep going, somewhat emboldened by the game, by the warmth of the whiskey poisoning your kidneys. “If it was me—”

Mina’s hand slides up your forearm, ending somewhere around your triceps. You’re close. Close enough to inhale her perfume; cinnamon, smoke, darker than anticipated. You’d fill your lungs with it, if you could. “If it was you.”

You take another drink. She watches.

And it clicks into place. What this really is. What she’s really doing here.

The slight tilt of her shoulder, a slip of her dress—just a fraction. A shift in her seat and suddenly, the silk has risen, too high, and there’s a stretch of skin leading up to a flash of lace that’s more moonlit than the night itself.

The suspicion sets in. Was she waiting for you?

Mina laughs.

You ask, “What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking,” Mina says, lowly. Grinning, like she’s reading your mind. “How even you’re the same.”

“How so?”

“All you men. How you see me, how you’re looking at me right now.” She reaches up to her neck, taps the clunky stone hovering over her throat. Once. Twice. “Making it about you. You think I need saving.”

You open your mouth. Close it. Open once more to protest—

“That’s what you think.” Mina interrupts, smirks; and your eyes are on her lips, wondering if anyone would be able to pull you off them if you were so lucky enough to taste them. “What you want is to own me.”

“Mina,” you regard her, openly. Honestly. “I could never dream of owning you.”

She nods back towards your logo, emblazoned across the castle walls. “Because you’re clearly not the type of person that likes owning things.”

And there’s a realisation here, as she’s staring into your eyes—a real, actual, bone-deep revelation—that she's been doing the same thing as you this whole time. Reading you, until she's seeing through you.

The silence stretches, thick and sweet , and it’s obvious to see where this is heading. The idea that’s being sparked—lean in, kiss her right here, right now, with all these eyes on you. Kiss that smirk right off her face, steal whatever clever rebuttals she’s composing from her lips, the flirtations that she’s left hanging in the air. Replace them all with your name.

But it’s all hypothetical, for now.

“You’re not even thinking past right now, are you?” Mina asks, amused. "The rumours you've started just by sitting next to me."

"Rumours."

"The kind that ruins careers. That never leave. That would make him want to kill you if he found out."

Another sip, letting it burn down your throat. Think about it. Attack it from every angle—

(Doesn’t it just make sense; the billionaire, and his beautiful celebrity partner? Or even if there was a scandal, just a one-night fling; wouldn’t it be worth it?

You could both live off the thrill alone, it’d reignite whatever embers her boyfriend hasn’t stomped out yet.)

“Maybe I want the rumours.”

Mina’s eyes widen. It’s the first time she’s dropped her guard.

“If you were mine,” you start, and stop immediately, reining in that last word on the tip of your tongue. “If you were my girlfriend, partner, whatever label you want to put on it. I’d tell the whole damn world. Broadcast it on every channel. Make sure everyone knows exactly who I’m fucking every single morning, afternoon, night.”

You’re hitting the mark of something, you can tell, because Mina’s hand tightens around your arm, and she doesn't seem to mind when yours lands on her thigh. A flash; the thought of spreading them, of seeing her laid bare underneath you. Or flipped over in front of you, crumpling that dress around her waist, so you can take proper purchase of that ass that’s been hinted at all night long.

And all of a sudden, she doesn't seem to be as spoken for as she might have led you to believe.

She bites her lip. Keeps it there for a second, two, before letting it go.

“So, this is what you usually say to all the pretty girls you invite to these parties?”

The alcohol’s loosened your tongue enough to state truths you’re supposed to keep to yourself. “I usually don’t have to say anything at all.”

Mina challenges. “Must be nice, being this rich, cute, and charming.”

“The being rich part does a lot of the hard work.”

“So, the cuteness and the charm?”

“I’ll let you decide,” you finish, watching her smile spread, the corners of her eyes crinkle. It makes your chest tighten.

“I suppose, in your perfect world,” Mina surmises, and now she’s so close that your knee is splitting the difference between her thighs, and you’re already planning the logistics of it all—the where, the how— “this ends with you fucking my brains out behind one of these old houses.”

“I’ve got a few in mind.”

“I bet.” Mina takes one last pull of her drink, empties it, and sets it back down. “And afterwards? After you’ve made me forget my own name and made the entirety of my existence revolve around your cock—what’s your plan then? Who are we—who are you going to be?"

You finish off your own glass, setting it down with the same deliberate clink as hers. “You know, the funny thing about money is," you say, sliding your fingers up her thigh, higher, higher. "It can make you whoever you want to be. So, the real question is—who do you want me to be?"

You’re holding your breath as she answers: “Not some knight in shining armour. I don’t need a saviour. If that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Then what do you need?”

Mina inches, gets close, and now her breath’s a tickle on the shell of your ear. She bites. “Just someone to help me scratch an itch.”

There’s a moment, somewhere before Mina threads her fingers through yours, lets you lead her through the throngs of guests and into the shadows of the palace; where all of this—this want, this need, boils over. Where Mina kisses your cheek and warns:

“You don’t have the time for me.”

Now it’s your turn to grin; reaching up to her throat, slipping that necklace off her, leaving it to clatter onto the granite below never to be spoken of again.

“Maybe. But I can make every second count.”

—

This is how you end up:

Pinning Mina to some ancient wall; the moon’s spotlight spilling over the contours of her body, a hand tangled in her hair, the other pushing her dress higher up her thighs.

You weren’t lying, you did have a place in mind. Namely, by the west gate, where a house that used to be the servant’s quarters stood. It’s a part of the palace that’s been neglected in the reconstruction, and thus, ironically, the most authentic part of this whole sham.

A true hideaway for those not to be seen or heard; a building that’s seen centuries of service, of lives lived in the shadow of royalty, and now it’s going to bear witness to this, to you and Mina, undoing each other with every passing second.

Something a little sacred, a whole lot profane.

She’s smiling against your lips; a smirk, more likely. Because she’s new to this kind of thing—the almost romantic picture the two of you are painting—chaste kisses stolen in quiet corners of royal residences. The kind of thing that could fuel a dozen dramas.

But you both know better.

So, you let her start things off, let her set the pace for this evening's affairs. And Mina, to her credit, is gracious enough to tell you exactly what she wants.

(Kiss me harder, touch me here, please, please, don't let go.)

Twisting the lapels of your jacket in her hand, desperately pulling you closer, even though there's no more room left. Kissing you with longing. Making you believe that she's missed this—missed you—despite the fact that you've only just officially met. And sure, it's a lie, but it's a lie that feels so good, so right, that you’re willing to indulge her.

Indulge yourself.

Your lips veer off the corner of her mouth, ignoring the tongue and teeth that try to keep you there, the hand that kindly urges you to not stop kissing her.

Because you’ve got a ticking clock in the back of your mind, counting down the seconds before someone calls you or her away, or more problematically, catches you and her, a heap of limbs and lust and fucking in the dusty archives of history.

You break away, keep things moving, kiss your way along her neck, feel her heartbeat drum against your lips. Follow her neckline down, down; find this sweet little spot, a darkened freckle right on top of her collarbone that makes her sigh.

“Tell me something, honestly.” Mina finds her voice the same time your fingers meet the promised lace of her underwear, turning her words into these breathless moans. “How often do you do this?”

You tug the fabric pooling at her waist—once, firmly—and Mina’s dress slips from her shoulders, whispering down her arms and leaving her in nothing but flawless white and a strapless bra that matches the silk in hue.

You smile, look up. “This?”

Mina clarifies, "Whisk some innocent girl away into a deserted corner and—"

She’s cut off by the click-clack of her bra releasing behind her back, your fingers slipping beneath the cotton, and you’re filling your hand with the swell of her breast; so soft, so perfect.

The sound when you touch her and she gasps; if only you could capture, keep it forever. You’ll just have to make sure she keeps making it—kneading gently, rolling the pebbled peak of her nipple between your thumb and forefinger, feeling it bead and tighten.

Your lips to her shoulder, you ask, “And what?”

Mina sighs, “fuck her completely, thoroughly senseless,” and you swear there’s something revelatory about how she says it—sinful ideas from saintly lips.

"Honestly?" You pause, your gaze lingering on the goosebumps rising across her skin. "You're the first."

Her laughter's a surprise; it's light, disbelieving. "First?"

"First tonight."

Mina's smile widens, her grip on your jacket tightens. "You're so full of shit," she says, but there's no malice in it. Just the thrill of the hunt. Or, being hunted.

You don’t bother to argue the point; let her think what she wants. Instead, you lean into it (into her), let your other hand snake around her thigh, over the elastic of her panties and lower, until you’re palming the curve of her ass.

Firm, taut, flawless—because of course it is; exactly like the rest of her. She’s so hot under your touch; the softness, the smoothness of it. And you know—without a doubt—you’re going to worship this ass.

A squeeze for good measure—balancing the fine line of respect and greed. Mina yelps—surprise, pleasure.

“God,” Mina shudders, does her best under the assault of your lips on her neck, fingers pinching, tugging, hand squeezing. "You're—oh, you're not so bad at this."

You press a kiss to her throat. “Flattery gets you everywhere, Miss Myoui.”

“Please, not with the government names,” Mina hisses, her cheeks flushing a soft pink that matches the glow of the lanterns outside.

“Apologies.” You chuckle, slipping your hand underneath the band of her panties, and around—down—pressing against her and sinking lower until you’ve got a proper hold of her. Soaking wet and dripping heat onto your fingertips.

A cry from her lips. A shiver. A buck of her hips.

Her hands shoot to your chest.

“Please, kiss me again.”

You oblige—how could you not, with the way she’s begging?

Her nails dig into your shirt, her breath hitches as you push your finger—your index—past her entrance and inside, and just before she can moan your name into the night air, you’re filling her mouth with your tongue, licking inside.

You kiss her like it’s your first kiss, like it’s your last. Like the only way to calm her down is with your mouth and your tongue and your teeth. She’s so wet and tight and pulsing around you, she’s trying to suck you in; and fuck, when you’re knuckle-deep she bites down on your lip so hard she nearly draws blood.

The moans that she's filling your mouth with; this symphony of want sends a jolt of pure, unfiltered desire straight to your cock. You're straining—against your trousers, against her thigh, straining against the urge to rip that dress off her and leave her bare, but you're not there yet.

It's about her, about needing her, making her beg for it. Making her so desperate that she'll do just about anything to get you inside her.

(Because there’s something about her, about Mina, that just makes you want to take your time. To learn the ins and outs of what makes her tick. The secret spots that make her moan into your mouth, the places to touch that make her shiver, the sighs and sounds that only you can coax out of her.

It’s etched into every line of her body; every curve and sharp edge—just pure heat from head to toe; And there’s a beauty so absolute in her perfection, the dash of makeup, the careful draping of her hair, it’s too good not to ruin. To not want to leave your mark on her in some way so that everyone knows she was once yours, if only for a night.)

“You’re just so needy, Mina.” You hum into her jaw, when your lips slip from hers and you struggle to resist the urge to leave these marks on her. Her cheek, her neck, her collarbone. Every part of her that she’s offered to you, every part you’re eager to claim. “Like it’s been ages since someone’s touched you like this.”

“I don’t—please—” is all Mina can manage, because the pad of your thumb is ghosting over her clit, pressing in and circling, and the way her pitch rises and she sighs your name gives you your answer:

It’s been a while.

“I don’t think—gah—” She tries agin, but you torture her with another finger, stretching inside her, sinking in and curling upwards. “I don’t think I’ve ever been touched like this.”

“Good,” you tell her, and she shivers when your voice rumbles through her, when you drop down and your lips go low again, and you take one of her stiff peaks between your teeth. “I don’t settle for second place.”

“Neither do—God—I—” Mina braces herself against the wall behind her, failing to find anything but cold brick to hold onto as you map out the rest of her with your hands and your fingers and your lips.

She’s so, so hot for you; you would’ve never predicted it, not in your wildest estimations. Never thought just how easy it would be to undo someone so poised and put-together like Mina, to render her into this puddle of need.

“So why don’t you show me then,” Mina breathes, voice trembling as much as she is. You suck deep, swirl your tongue, make her arch her back to push more of herself into you. “What all the—oh my—what all the fuss is about."

“As you wish, darling.”

And there’s part of you that’s recognising the awfulness of what you’re doing, taking something—someone—that’s not yours, and having her tell you all these things, finger fucking these words of oblivion from her lips, touch me, please I need it, kiss me harder, more, more, make me feel it, make me feel you.

But even that part of you is so, so small right now, buried deep down with everything that isn’t Mina, with everything that isn’t her pussy clenching around your hand, or the taste of tits on your tongue.

Ignore all thoughts of the after, of what happens when you’ve made her cum again and again, and you’ve wrecked yourself in the pursuit of it all. What happens when you return to the throngs of nobodies, all rumpled and flushed and red, and the whispers start flying, and the glances are no longer just knowing but shamelessly envious.

That’s a problem for future you.

Right now, you’ve nearly stripped her entirely, pressed up against a wall that’s seen more than its fair share of secrets, and your two—now three—fingers are ruining her in a way that has her dancing on that borderline.

“I’m close, so close,” Mina cries, but you already know.

Because you’re already giving it to her; everything she wants and then some. Touching her, fucking her with your fingers, pushing her higher, watching her unravel.

Making her whine against your skin, making her eyes squeeze shut like she’s afraid of what’s happening, afraid of how much she wants this.

“We’re only just getting started, Mina.”

You let her nipple pop out from your mouth, leaving it to bob in the cool night air, sensitive and dying to be back between your teeth. Hand shifts from her hip, sliding up to cradle her jaw, to tip her face back—force those deep, dark eyes to open so you can really look at her.

Panting, pupils blown wide, and the sight of her so undone sends another wave of heat straight to your cock.

“Look at me.” It comes out harsher, more of a firm command than intended. It does its job. “You're going to cum now.”

She nods, frantically, eyes locked on yours as your thumb traces over her bottom lip, feeling it plump and swollen from your kisses. Her tongue darts out, swipes over the pad, tasting herself and you; and you’re thinking about filling that mouth of hers, or maybe that cunt, or if she’s game, that tight, untouched little asshole.

But one thing at a time.

“I’m going to eat your pussy,” you’re saying everything you’ve dreamt of saying to her since you first saw her, first caught sight of that ass daring to wander past your line of sight; and suddenly, every raw, filthy thought you’ve had of her is coming to the surface. “Then I’m going to fuck you. Again and again. Your cunt, your mouth. That ass. I’m going to take it all. And you’re going to let me, aren’t you, darling?”

Mina breathes, nods, signing a verbal contract to let you do whatever the fuck you want with her, promising you all of her, every part of her you’ve so shamelessly craved.

“Good.”

And so, you drop to your knees.

You glance up at her. She looks down at you.

Like she’s been burning for this; like she’ll combust if you make her wait a second longer.

Pushing her dress up until it's around her waist, keeping it up with your hands on her thighs, spreading her legs wider. And you’re seeing her pussy, the darkened, plump flesh—bare, wet, begging—and so, so pretty.

Fuck—what kind of guy could resist this?

(The kind that buys her jewellery without knowing the first thing about her. The kind that leaves her to sit alone at a gala like a trophy on a shelf. The kind that doesn’t get to taste her—doesn’t know how.

The kind that’s not you.

And maybe she was right—you do think you could save her.)

“What are you doing?” Mina huffs, impatient.

You smirk, unable to resist the urge to drag this out, to keep her on edge a little longer. "Just appreciating."

Mina's eyes narrow, but the smile never leaves her lips. "Well, appreciate faster."

You don’t need to be told twice.

Take her by the hips, spin her around, make her inhale—sharp. Force her to look away from you, to face the cold, indifferent wall, to brace herself.

“Wait, why—”

“Hold your dress up for me,” you mumble against her thighs.

Mina’s hands obey, holding the silk out of the way; and now she’s bent over, like a fucking present. Letting your eyes drink in her ass; unable to do anything but just stare.

How the moonlight kisses the curve, makes the shadows play against it. So perfect. So round and tight and full. Fruit so ripe you could pluck it from the tree with your teeth.

You’re leaning in, kissing the top of her thighs, right below where her cheeks spill over. Kissing up, a soft press of your lips to one cheek, the other, and fuck Mina’s trembling; barely holding it together, and you’re just getting started.

You drag your nose up, across the cotton of her panties and inhale her deep. Sweet and musky, a fine wine that’s been left to breathe, and she squirms.

Shivers under your breath.

And when Mina sighs something that sounds suspiciously like a warning—because she’s not the type to let you get away with anything like this so easily—you take the band of her underwear with your teeth, feeling the fabric stretch. Thin, delicate, begging to snap.

The panties fall away, down to her ankles. The sound of her heels tapping the ground as she lifts her legs to let it slide off, leaving her bare, vulnerable, and yours.

Mina goes still.

Hands spread her cheeks, and finally, you dive in, tongue first. Swipe along the crevice of her ass, taste the sweetness of her from bottom to top, forcing this gasp from her lips. You’re not shy about it—no room for anything close to it when your nose is pressed up against her asshole—and Mina’s thighs are trembling, muscles in her legs tightening like she’s trying to run away from what’s coming next.

But she won’t. You’ve got her pinned. You’ve got her right where she wants to be.

You flatten your tongue against her pussy, lick from cunt to asshole in one, long slow drag, make her sigh your name like it’s a prayer.

“I can’t believe—I never—no one’s ever—” She’s talking, trying to keep it together, trying to rationalise how something so filthy is making her fall apart in a million different, tremendous ways. But the words break off into moans, pure music to your ears.

“Like that?” You murmur against her skin, words disappearing into her.

“Oh my god, yes,” Mina cries out, a benediction. Her grip tightens on her dress, holding it up like a veil. A fucked-up kind of thing, marrying her cunt to your lips; arousal so potent you’re drowning it.

Because she’s a wreck, been a wreck since the moment you laid a hand on her. And now you just have to keep her there.

You let your tongue slide up and down her slit, teasing the folds, going lower, spreading her legs to lap up her clit until she’s begging for it—until she’s begging for you to push inside, to fuck her with it, to make her scream.

"Enjoy it, enjoy being so messy for me.”

"Oh—oh my God!" Mina cries out as you delve into her, and the sound echoes down empty corridors, bouncing off the walls, taking a grand tour of the palace. “I can’t believe—can’t fucking believe—"

You can't believe it either. That no one else has had the pleasure of tasting, of licking, of dining on this slice of Eden laid out before you. It's a crime against nature, really. A sin that you're more than happy to rectify.

"Fuck, you're so good," Mina voice is strained, her legs buckling under the weight of her own desire, she needs to post one hand onto the wall to not completely collapse into your mouth.

A dark chuckle escapes your lips. Feeling smug and utterly in control. "It's not rocket science, darling. Just a little bit of appreciation goes a long way."

But you're not just tonguing her ass because it’s there, because it’s what you’re into. You’re doing it because it’s driving her wild, because you know it’s a button that’s been left untouched, unexplored. And there’s something about being the first to do it that makes your cock throb, makes you want to worship not just her ass, but all of her.

Every part of her that's been neglected, overlooked, ignored.

"You have no idea," she breathes, her legs trembling harder now, "How good it feels."

You lean back, just a fraction, looking up at her, the tension coiling up her spine. "Oh, darling," you say, "I do. Believe me, I do."

A kiss into the small of her back, and you slide your finger back into her, once at first. So impossibly wet, stretching so easily for you, welcoming you right back in.

It’s all for you.

And you can’t get enough, so you add another, then another, stretching her even more, making her drench you and moan for you louder and louder.

You’ve figured it out. How to fuck her, lick her, press into her cunt just right. Finding the rhythm, that makes her breath skip and her body tense, that makes her pussy clamp down around your digits.

“Oh, God, oh, oh, oh—yes—right there—right there—” She’s panting, her hips jerking back, meeting every thrust of your fingers and your tongue.

You’re so close to making her cum—so close that you can almost taste it on the air—and she’s begging for it, so sweetly, so desperately.

“Please, please, don’t stop, I’m right there—” Mina’s hand reaches back, tangling in your hair, and she’s pulling you closer, grinding herself against your mouth.

Bury your face between her cheeks, fuck her fast with your fingers. It’s heaven down in the depths of hell; her thighs, her cheeks, her cunt, her ass. So soft, so wet, so very yours.

That whimper, that beautiful sigh that escapes Mina’s lips is her final invitation. You push your tongue inside her, opening it up, feeling the tightness, the warmth. The shock coursing through her as she surrenders to the unspeakable filth and bliss of your mouth on her asshole.

So tight, so clean, so delicious.

You lick and suck and kiss, fucking her with your fingers, pressing into her, exploring the depths of that tight little hole.

"This is, this is—” her voice strains, wonder, desperation, downright heat at what you’re doing to her. "No one’s ever done this to me. Keep eating my ass, please."

It’s her words that keeps you going, and it all becomes a blur of moans and shivers, of the way she tastes, smells, feels. But you don’t stop, you can’t, all you want to do is make that tight ring of muscle yours.

“Please let me cum. Now. Please. I need it—I need you—”

She needs you to never stop.

You take her, right there in the moonlit garden, hidden by the shadows and the foliage and the silk of her dress. You can almost feel the vibrations of her voice in your mouth, against your tongue, like it’s a part of her, like she’s speaking straight into your soul with every moan and gasp and plea.

The squelch of your fingers fucking her. Her cunt griping you, being devoured. Your tongue invading her ass. The way you’re ruining her for everyone else. Her cries.

She’s so loud.

It doesn’t matter.

The whispers of the gala seem so far away, so irrelevant. It’s all about Mina and her ass and your three fingers sawing in and out of her and she’s saying—

“God, fuck, how can you do this, how can you make me—fuck—"

The answer to her unfinished question: it’s because she’s worth it. It’s because of her, how she makes you want to prove yourself. Because of her hips and her thighs and her cunt and her ass and all of her, every single part.

And that’s your name on her breath, that’s your name when she’s close, that’s your name when she finally tips over, when her legs give way and she’s gasping it into the night.

“Oh my—”

Mina cums.

You swallow.

Drink your fill from her cunt, fill up your nose with her scent. Burn the memory of what it’s like to have your face buried in her ass and have her leaking down your chin. It’s a full body spasm that wracks through her, setting her soul on fire. She’s a star, a supernova, a fucking explosion on your tongue.

Her walls pulse around your fingers, squeezing, clenching, and you give it to her, keep fucking her through it, keep licking, because she’s still there, still hovering.

It overwhelms her—she lets it—you feel her body tighten, quiver, then release like a bowstring snapped.

“Fuck me, fuck me, please—yes, like that—right—right there—yes—yes—yes—”

A chant of yeses right before falling off a cliff and into an oh fuck, I’m cumming.

And you’re right there, knees in the dirt, smiling against her cheeks, holding onto her hips, making sure she doesn’t collapse entirely.

And fuck, she goes, and goes and goes.

Until the ground falls beneath her feet.

You’re there to catch her, to ease her down to the ground with you, hold her in your arms until her world stops spinning.

It takes a moment, two.

And she looks up at you, like she’s unsure of how she got there, in this tangle of sighs and limbs and you. But it doesn’t really matter because she pulls you closer, hand still buried in your hair, needing to kiss you just one more time.

Her taste lingers on your tongue—sweet and salty and so uniquely her. She kisses you again, a little less frantic this time. A little more like she means it.

It’s hard not to feel anything but pride.

Mina’s cheek is pressed to your chest, her eyes barely able to focus, her breaths coming in quiet, contented puffs.

And you’re coming to realise what kind of woman Mina is. Even now, when she should be an unrepairable mess—sprawled out on the cool floor with her dress in a puddle around her, her pussy still pulsing and leaking down her thighs—there’s this poise to her that’s downright intimidating.

She breathes, “You’re just a fantasy, aren’t you?” It feels like a warm hand sliding down your spine.

You lean down, kiss her forehead, tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

It’s peaceful. It’s perfect.

And then your emergency line rings.

Mina inclines her head. A spell is broken. “Well, that’s timing for you.”

You instantly regret the next words that come out of your mouth, the rational words that have never sounded more irrational. “I need to go.”

Mina’s far too polite, far too graceful to say what she wants to say, what you’re pleading her in your mind to say. But she knows the game. You both do.

She just nods, rewards herself with a peek at the tent angrily poking underneath your slacks.

“It’s fine,” she says. (It’s not). She reaches up to your lips, running a thumb over the gloss she’s stained you with. “I think I can handle it from here.”

Her other hand slips down to your thigh, gives you a courtesy squeeze as a farewell, and it’s all you can do not to jump. But you can’t, because the phone’s still ringing, because at the end of the day you’re still a billionaire with responsibilities and a reputation to uphold.

She’s kind of enough to give you an out. “You’re supposed to be giving a speech, right?”

Said responsibility and reputation has you answering, “Yeah.”

You’re stupid for it, stupid for even entertaining the idea of letting her go, or leaving her behind. But you’re not completely blameless—it’s near impossible to even think straight when all the blood in your body has gone south for the evening.

“Are you going to be okay with,” Mina blinks down at you. “Your situation?”

It’s painful to even say it. “I guess I’ll have to be.”

Mina sits up, pulls herself off you, untangling her legs with a grace that seems almost otherworldly. Pulls her panties back up, tucks them into place with a little shiver. Smooths her dress down, twisting it back in place.

You’re already regretting letting her leave before she’s even gone.

But the messages have piled up on your phone, and Mina can see it all, the endless frantic texts, the missed calls.

You’re late.

You’re needed.

The world’s waiting.

Mina reads your face, and you can’t tell if she’s impressed or disappointed. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

You stand up, help her to her feet, because that’s what you do—you take care of your own messes. She’s still smiling at you, and you want to tell her how much you wish you could stay.

“It’s okay,” is all she says, as you tuck your shirt back in and slick your hair down.

She’s redoing her own hair, trying to fix it into something presentable. Something less ‘I’ve been fucked raw against a brick wall’ and more ‘gee, quite a strong wind tonight’.

“I knew from the jump you didn’t have the time.”

You’re blurting out, “I can make more.”

“Not even money can buy that.”

Your phone rings again.

Mina’s eyes follow the screen, the glow lighting up her face. Ethereal. Yeah, that's the word for how she looks. You've never been sure of the definition but you're certain it fits.

And when she stands on her toes to kiss your cheek, to bid you farewell, she holds onto your shoulder long enough to whisper her address in your ear. “I’ll be waiting. If you can get away.”

“Why don’t I just come with you now?”

She laughs—but it’s empty, almost a little sad. “Because, you have a job to do, and I have an appearance to keep up. And unlike you, I’m not quite sure I’m ready to broadcast to the whole world who I’m fucking. Or who I’m going to fuck. If he’s not late, that is.”

And with a quiet breath, she’s gone.

A ghost in the moonlight, slipping away like she’s been painted out of existence, leaving you with the memory of her on your mouth and the ache she’s leaving in your cock.

You turn back to the gala.

The air feels somewhat colder.

—

The rest of the evening goes far, far too slowly for your liking.

While your absence has been noted, the whispers and glances are more curious than concerned. They don't know where you've been, and one of your assistants is kind enough to fetch you a new shirt to replace the one that's smudged with lipstick and makeup and Mina, before any real juicy rumours can start.

You try, and fail, to get things moving as quickly as possible:

(A business rival pulls you aside to congratulate you on the recent product launch—You're just thinking about Mina's ass.

A board member sings your praises about last quarter’s earnings, how you're really sticking it to those idiots that forecasted a downturn—You're only thinking about sticking it between Mina's thighs.

A reporter that sneaked in wants to know if you're planning another acquisition so soon after the last one—Yes, you're going to acquire Mina; find somewhere far away from here with another wall to pin her against and make her scream and ache all over for you.)

Thankfully, your assistant is at the ready before you can really make a scene, dragging you over to the stage and pulling you out of this shit show.

‘Just stepped away for some air’ is what you had assured her when she took the shirt off your hands, but really, there's no point trying to hide it.

She's seen that look before, that glow that you can't quite wipe off.

But she's loyal, she doesn't ask questions. Just tells you that you’re on in five, and that in the meantime, she’ll make sure the driver is ready for a quick exit.

So, you force yourself to smile, address the faces that meld together into a wall of teeth.

Make a speech that’s just a rush of words that you've recited countless times before. Innovation and growth, the future of the company, the same spiel from the annual report wrapped up in a shiny new bow.

But none of it matters. You're not even hearing yourself speak. You're hearing the echoes of Mina's moans, feeling the tremble of her thighs as you devoured her, replaying her orgasm in your mind again and again.

You can't wait to get off this fucking stage.

The second the applause dies down, you're off like a shot. The podium forgotten; the spotlight cold on your back. You grab your phone and slip out of the garden, dodging the eager hands that reach out for just a second of your time.

You find your driver waiting, just as instructed; Mina's address already punched in the navigation.

Just go, drop me off. Don't stick around. I'll call you to pick me up in the morning.

—

“It was cerulean,” is Mina’s amused answer to your admittedly idiotic question.

Not your best moment, to be fair. You raced up to her apartment so quickly that you really didn’t have anything more intelligent to say than ‘what happened to your dress?’ and ‘I wanted to know what colour it was’.

But still, show you the person living or dead that could have said anything coherent when being greeted by Mina, opening the door to her apartment—so unashamedly smug, and so very naked.

So what if you just stood there and stared?

Stared at the curves and dips, the way her hair cascades over her shoulders in inky waves, damp from a shower; making it cling to her skin, drape over her collarbone, her breasts. The nipples peeking straight at you, dusky, pointed, waiting the return of your tongue. Her pussy winking between her thighs, a treasure hidden in a sea of smooth flesh.

You don’t know whether to apologise for your lack of eloquence or thank her for being so incredibly distracting.

You kind of want to request that she turn around.

Mina laughs at what is certainly a stupid expression colouring your face; folds her arms across her chest, crosses one leg over the other. "Waiting for me to offer you a drink?"

You blink. “Thought you already gave me one.”

She scrunches her nose, answers, “I was only being polite.”

“I think we’re well past that.”

There’s that gravity again; shifting around Mina, tilting the world towards her until she’s pulling you into her apartment and you’re kicking the door closed behind you.

“Then hurry up and take me upstairs.”

—

There’s a part of you that feels like you should warn Mina when she tells you:

“Look, you’ve kept me waiting too fucking long. I need your cock, your cum inside of me. Right now. Before it’s too late and I change my mind. So, just please, please, please—”

But those kind of thoughts are lost halfway up the staircase; when you both decide that you just can't wait anymore, and your hands are back on her hips and your tongue is pushing into her throat.

Her fault, really.

Stripping you down the hallway, leaving a trail of your clothes through her kitchen; taking you by the cock. Firm, confident pumps as she leads you through her penthouse, refusing to give you a moment to breathe.

Because she’s obsessed with it. Obsessed with how it fills her hand, how it jumps at her touch, how it throbs when she squeezes it, strokes it.

“So big for me," Mina's says—to you, to herself, to your cock. "So perfectly, impossibly, big for me."

You’re never going to make it to the top.

Pressing her up against the banister, kissing her, hard. Deep, bruising kisses, because now that you’re out of the garden you don’t give a fuck if you’re leaving marks.

You just want her to remember this night, to feel it in every pulse and every breath.

Make her think of you when she’s with him, if she can even go back to him after this. Because you’ll both know that she’s yours even when she’s not.

“You’re going to ruin me, you know that?”

You look into Mina’s eyes. You can see it all, how the rest of the night will play out. You and Mina, tangled in her apartment. You and Mina, on top of the kitchen island. You and Mina, against the shower walls, on the living room floor, maybe even on the balcony.

You and Mina, until the sun rises.

You kiss her harder. “Is that a request?”

“Of course it is.”

Because now you actually have the time to appreciate her, to let your hands wander.

They glide over her body, mapping it out again, but slower this time. You've had your fill of the frantic touches, the greedy need. This is something else. This is savouring.

You start with your thumb at her navel, tracing the line down to her hips, then back up against to the base of her ribcage. It’s the feel of the muscles in her stomach tensing and relaxing as you touch her, the inhale and the exhale. How ridiculously tiny her waist feels in your hand, how your palm fits so perfectly into the curve of her side that you swear she’s been tailored for you.

Mina chokes on her breath as she tells you, “You’re going to have to stop, or we’re not going to make it to the bedroom.”

You don’t even slow down. You just don’t care.

Your hand rises, higher, finds her breasts again; cupping it in your palm. A thumb rolls over her nipple.

You pinch. She gasps.

You smile into her neck. “So, so, sensitive.”

Mina’s so willing, so keen to give herself over to you, to your touch. You’ve proven yourself to her already, made her cum with just your fingers and tongue. Now it’s just a matter of doing it all over again—but slower, better, more thorough.

You palm her breasts, rolling and pinching them until they’ve been given the attention they deserve, until she’s panting through your teases and caresses. Kneading the soft flesh beneath your hand and making her arch into your touch.

“You’re really going to take your time, aren’t you?” Mina mewls, half-sigh, half-plead. Grinding herself into you, making a shimmering mess on your waist. “Going to torture me until I can’t breathe.”

“It is your fantasy.”

Pull her closer, take a handful of that perfect ass once again. It hasn’t really been that long since you last had it in your hands but it’s all you’ve had on your mind. What it looks like under proper lighting, what it feels like without the dress in the way. What kind of noises will she make when you grope, and she doesn’t have to worry about anyone overhearing.

Press and squeeze, dig your fingers into her flesh. Not rough, but firm. Leaving little spots of red that will be gone by the morning.

Slide your finger down, down between her cheeks, and deeper, pressing into the sweet heat of her ass.

And then you feel it.

Her asshole. Wet and slick. Prepared.

A wink. A laugh. "Not my fault you're predictable."

You can’t fucking wait anymore.

She’ll just have to settle for the staircase.

Grab her by the hips—her ass, and pull her down with you onto the steps, her legs straddling you as you sit down.

Take her in—all of her. The curve of her, the line of her spine, the fucking paradise that’s her cheeks. Unbelievable.

You kiss into her back, follow down that trail right to where it swells, feeling the heat of her skin against your lips. You’re going to ruin this ass; permanently plant your flag there, mark it as property of you and your cock until she can’t take a seat without cursing your name.

Mina's shoulders tense when you pause, and she looks back over to you. There's a flash of nerves in her eyes, a gasp of "Here?" that's so faint you almost don't catch it.

Another kiss into her skin, you murmur, “Here’s perfect, Mina,” and she sighs when your finger presses against that puckered ring, cold with lubricant, made as ready as she’s ever going to be.

It’s the preparation that gets you; the idea of her in anticipation for you, for this, making sure she’s nice and primed. Mina at the store, still wearing that dress, fresh from her orgasm, buying lube. Mina in her bathroom, stripping herself bare, toying with her asshole, making it perfect for you.

And Mina, now, eyes clenched shut, breaths heavy as your digit is pushing through, slipping into her, and she’s so fucking tight around it.

“Oh my god,” she hisses through her teeth, a quiver in her legs as you push deeper into her tight channel.

Your hands shoot to her thighs to steady her, a reassuring anchor to keep her from toppling over as your finger fills her completely, twisting and turning, slowly but surely easing her into the idea of being taken.

It’s the moans that get you, the sighs as you intrude inside her. She’s so responsive, her breaths skipping and her pussy already starting to gush, coating your finger, your thighs, the steps below.

“You doing okay?”

“Yeah—yes,” Mina stutters, her footing slips just so, but she catches herself on the banister. “It’s—it’s intense. So intense. But don’t stop, I can take it. I want—I want more. I need this. I need this now, before—before I take all of you inside of me."

“You want more?” You repeat her words, before giving her what she needs—adding a second finger, pressing them in deep, making sure she’s good and open. The lube helps, but it’s the eagerness that gets her most of the way there; it’s that trust that she has in you, her willingness to let you take her here, in this way.

“Yes, please,” Mina cries, doing everything she can to not collapse on top of you, to not come completely apart.

You’re merciless, adding a third finger, stretching her until she’s panting, until she’s crying out, making this noise, this hushed whimper that takes the shape of your name.

“Please, please, please,” Mina whispers to herself, pushing back against you, starting to rock back onto your hand, taking your fingers into her ass.

“Not yet, Mina, not yet,” you tell her, because even though she’s close, even though she’s begging, you want her to be absolutely fucking desperate for your cock when the moment comes.

You reach around her with your other hand, finding that button, already swollen and begging for attention. Playing with it, gently at first, a soft pressure to help her let go, to allow herself to let her voice echo up the staircase and through the penthouse.

God, how is she this sensitive, reactive to every little touch, to every exploration of her cunt, her ass, her body.

It’s the ceremony of it all; this lurid, obscene ritual that you’re walking her through. Making her ass bounce on your hand in this hypnotic movement, making her stretch around your fingers, making her repeat your name over and over until she’s convinced herself that all of her belongs to you.

These perfect, near-silent sighs. This unbelievable tightness. Mina’s body, turning itself into a fucking playground for your touch; to do with it as you will. Even if it means ruining her.

And it’s when you have her creaming all over you; down her thighs, making a mess of herself with these pushes and pulls, these declarations of how ready she is for you, that her body shakes with one last, long shiver.

She cums.

Softly, soundlessly, another cry of your name dying on her lips. A hand to your wrist to stop you abruptly, panting.

Tiny, tiny shivers, twitches in her thighs, around your fingers, leaving her barely there, barely with you. Head hanging low, chest heaving, catching her breath, putting herself back together again.

Time stretches before she's cognisant again, and she turns back, looking over her shoulder and straight at you. Eyes half-lidded, hazy, dripping with lust, anticipation, burning with need.

Deep, heavy breaths. And then Mina says the most devastating thing:

“I’m ready. Fuck my ass. Now. Please.”

A gunshot in the quiet of her home, rumbling through your bones.

Your fingers leave her ass, her cunt with a wet pop, forcing a whine from her throat at the sudden emptiness. A look at her asshole, how it clenches and unclenches, beckoning for you to fill it, to claim it as your own.

“Good girl.”

Holding her by the hips, lining her ass with your cock, nudging her opening with your tip and making her shiver. You don’t go in immediately; you hover, giving her one last out, to really see if she’s absolutely certain.

Mina trembles. Nods. That’s all the invitation you need.

“God, I—”

You push in, slow and steady, eyes on her ass as she takes you. So fucking tight, so intense, you can feel every part of her squeezing, accommodating you, moulding itself around your girth and swallowing you whole.

“Take it slow, darling, take it slow,” you whisper into her skin, guiding her down, telling her how good she’s doing, how good she is for you, how much you love her tightness, her trust.

It seems impossible at first, the grip she has on you, like you’ll never get in. But inch by agonising inch, she takes you, and it’s nothing short of total heaven.

Mina, so fucking beautiful in this moment of raw vulnerability; all sharp inhales and strained quivers wrecking through her, voice shaky as she tells you, “I’ve never felt anything like this, I never thought—fuck—I never thought I could take anything like this.”

“You’re doing so good,” you kiss your words into her, wrapping your arms around her, holding her.

“I can—I can do better,” she gasps, and you believe her.

But you still go slow, so painfully slow, even though every fibre of your being is screaming at you to just dig into her hips and slam into that glorious fucking ass and never look back.

“I can take it,” Mina breathes, “Do it, I can take it. I want all of you. In my ass. I can handle it.”

Mina nods, clenches her ass, her cheeks firming up around your throbbing cock.

“I want it to hurt so good.”

No more convincing required. You push in deeper, make her back stiffen, her muscles contract, making her cry.

It’s a dance, a delicate ballet of bodies, of breath and touch, of your cock inside Mina’s ass. Lost in it, in the feel of skin on skin, the sound of wet, needy noises that she’s making, her shudders in your arms.

Until finally, with a strangled gasp, she’s fully seated. You’re buried in her tight, hot ass, basking in the warmth of her, leaving you both winded and struggling for air.

Stillness overrides the moment, because it’s too perfect, too overwhelming, and the feeling. You need to get used to the feeling.

You break the silence first. “Mina?”

“I know. I know.”

A kiss against her neck, scraping the soft skin there. A whisper in her ear, your breath hot and ragged.

“I’m going to fuck your ass now.”

You always keep your promises.

Mina answers by leaning back into you, her hand finding yours, her nails running along your fingers as if to say, “Yes, please, now.”

Moving, so slow it’s almost painful. The drag of her ass around your cock like nothing you’ve ever felt before—like you’re sliding through warm, velvet-covered steel.

“Fuck, yes, please,” with every inch you pull out, and “Too much, so good, too fucking much,” when you push back in, deeper and deeper still.

It builds and builds, this sweet agony, each pass in her ass faster, harder, turning Mina’s cries and wails into moans of pure bliss. It takes time and long, hard fucking for her body to relax into this rhythm, letting you take her, own her.

A vision above you, sweat glistening on her back, hair matted and sticking to her shoulders, and Mina’s ass, a snug ring around your cock. You watch as your cock slides out of her, the way her ass clenches around the head, holding on for just a second before pushing all the way back down.

You can’t help but groan, “Christ,” as she moves on top of you like that. So gracefully, so beautifully, so fucking obscenely on your cock.

“Thank you—God—thank you, thank you, thank you.” Mina’s moans are pure music to your ears, she’s babbling, talking through the pain, through the pleasure. “So, so good, filling me like—fuck—never been filled up like this.”

And as you push on, push further and further until your cock is melting inside her, burning her up in every way she's ever dared to dream, you can see the smile curling onto Mina’s face. It’s pride, you’re realising. Proud of herself, proud of how she can take you, how she can handle this kind of depraved ecstasy.

“It feels so deep.”

Tearing her open. Revealing the tender, delicate core beneath the glamour, the lights, the unreal beauty that is Mina. Leaving her sobbing, pleading, whining for more, more, more.

Bouncing on you now, each more assured than the last, cries of nothing but need. Opening up to accept you fully, completely, her ass a tight fucking sleeve for you, coming down and wrapping itself around you like a searing hot second skin.

You know the truth, but you still want to hear it.

“How many?”

Mina has her answer ready: “You’re the—you’re the first.”

You grin. A smug, triumphant baring of teeth that spreads from ear to ear. “I have no fucking idea how that’s possible. How nothing has ever been up this tight, perfect little asshole.”

“Oh, there's been toys,” Mina moans, strained and shaky as you pump into her, “But you’re just the first that's real.”

“Then your boyfriend is a fucking idiot,” you growl into her ear, your hand moving to her throat, gently clasping, making her gasp, making her eyes go wide with shock, with excitement. “He doesn’t know what he has.”

“Enough about my boyfriend,” Mina's quick to answer, snapping, her head thrown back, eyes screwed shut. “Even though—even if—he wouldn’t, couldn’t dream of filling me like this. Filling me up so much that it hurts, so much that—fuck, it feels so right, so fucking right—”

“You love this, don’t you, Mina?” You ask, but all Mina can do is nod vigorously, too overrun by the fucking to form words. “Underneath it all, you’re just a dirty slut for it, aren’t you? Letting me use this pretty, tight ass like this.”

“I—” she stutters, right before confessing, “I love it.”

She slams her hips down on you, the stairs groaning with each thrust, not built to withstand this kind of punishment.

“I love that it’s you, love that you’re the first. I can’t believe it—just—I need it. I need your cock in me, so deep—I need you, I need you, I need you—so please don't stop.”

“I would never dream of stopping.”

Never.

Not when she’s begging like this, her voice hoarse and her body quaking. When she sighs and shivers every time you fuck a little faster, push a little harder, testing just how much she can take.

Tits jiggling with every thrust, cunt leaking all the way down your thighs, ass puckering and loosening.

Her whole body, yours.

Yours for the taking. Mina’s divine body, in all its sharp planes and ridged muscles, squeezing and coiling at every juncture, every penetration setting her alight.

You declare it, even though it doesn't need to be said. “Made for me.”

“Yes,” she’s nodding. Or rather, letting her head fall into one. “God yes.”

“Just been waiting for me for so long, haven’t you? Been waiting for the right cock to come along and split you in half.” You’re saying these things, these stinging words that you fuck into Mina, send shooting through her like sparks. She’s a live-wire, a fucking blackout waiting to happen.

Weeping down her thighs, choking out every whine, “Yes,” she whispers, “yes, yes, yes, been needing to be ruined. Needing it, needing you. So much, so much, so—fucking—right—”

“Fucking criminal that you had to wait,” you’re saying, loving this, so enraptured by all of it. “But I’m here now.”

Mina shivers, pussy clenches, and she just can’t stop saying, “Yours, yours, yours—”

Completely, totally yours, now.

You know it. She knows it.

It’s written in the way she takes your cock, in the way she loses herself to you, loses all semblance of composure and decorum, peels back all the carefully curated layers that make her Mina, until all there is to see and touch is the raw, unfiltered need that you’ve unleashed from underneath.

"Touch me, fuck me, take me, take my ass, I need more—"

Again, your fingers find her folds, sticky and swollen and waiting.

You touch her, press down on her clit. Circling it with the same rhythm as your hips. Striking a match in a dark room, lighting up her body in this blaze.

The noises that it all makes; the slosh of your fingers at her cunt, the squelch of your cock invading her ass, so fucking explicit, so fucking filthy.

She’s erratic, breath catching, throat pulsing against your fingers, and she somehow, impossibly, clenches even more around you, suffocating your cock with just her tight, tight ass.

You keep that same tempo. That desperate, fucking unyielding beat that’s going to make her come, going to turn this idol, this mystery, this drop-dead fucking gorgeous woman who should belong to someone else but is now screaming proudly just how much she’s yours, into nothing but a trembling mess of whimpers and whines.

“More, fuck—oh my god, oh my fucking god—it’s so fucking good—so good—so fucking good—”

She’s reaching her peak—her voice, her body, her cunt, her ass—all of her reaching that perfect crescendo of pleasure that you’ve been orchestrating, that you’ve been waiting for.

“I’ve never—no one’s ever—fuck, fuck, fuck—”

Sinking into her, making her feel like she’s being torn apart and remade with every stroke, making her feel nothing like she’s ever felt before, making her feel like nothing but your fucking whore.

So, so close, barrelling towards it now, all these tears running down her cheeks, these filthy words slipping from her lips. Coming apart in your arms, because she’s never been this filled, this complete.

“Going to—going to cum—fuck me, harder, harder—going to cum all over your cock—” Mina tells you, a warning, the last one you get before she screams, “Too good—filling me—so good—give it to me—God—I can never go back—”

She shatters. Monumentally.

Into a million tiny pieces of pleasure, each one more brilliant than the last.

Her body spasms, her ass squeezes so fucking tight around your cock that you can feel the orgasm ripping through her, up her spine, through her throat, until she’s crying out and it’s hitting your ears—

“Oh my God, I'm going to—just, say my name—please, say my name when I—”

“Mina,” you say, and she cums.

“Mina,” you repeat when her pussy floods over your hand, ass smothers your cock.

“Mina,” again when it ripples across her skin, leaves her in fits, uncontrollable quakes, consumed by pure, unfiltered joy.

You watch the whole thing—watch her scream your name, watch her shake and quiver and fall apart, right there on your cock; and you're fucking her through it all, fucking her well past it, chanting “Mina” over and over again.

You'll never forget this, never forget this sight—this woman, this star, built up and broken down just for you.

“Mine,” you bite into her ear, because now, it’s true.

Mina’s barely there, eyes glassy, hand cradling your face. But she’s able to say it, because it’s branded into every bone of her body: “Yours.”

It’s a complete disaster.

And now you're cumming.

Brand new sensations, devastation in full measure—your soul ripped from your chest, until all that’s left is this impulsive, overwhelming need to give her your all, your everything—to fill her entire existence with just you.

You drive your cock into her once more, impaling her deep, and let go.

It floods her, rushes inside her, spills and spills.

Mina can't do anything but feel it—every pulse, every spurt. She throws her head back, her mouth open in this silent plea, satisfaction painted across her face as your heat surges inside her. Her ass milks you, needy for every drop, so, so thirsty for it.

“It's—cumming inside my ass—so, so nice, keep cumming for me.”

You hold onto her, throb inside her, pump ropes into her, and there's a kiss—hot and clumsy—somewhere in the midst of it all, your mouths colliding and tongues wrapping around each other in a futile attempt to last just that little bit longer.

Getting all dizzy and spellbound, floating back down to the ground as the last waves of your climaxes start to subside, until one of you says, “Thank you,” and the other echoes it back.

You stay like that, swallowed up inside her, dripping out of her ass. Lowering one hand from her throat, rising the other from her pussy, pulling her into an embrace, keeping her as close as you can while you both try to put yourselves back together.

It’s sex that soaks the air, fills the penthouse—sweat, lube, the musk of all the evidence you're leaving behind. Intoxicating, breathing it in, setting your nerves alight, rousing your cock inside her all over again.

But Mina, she’s a stunning catastrophe, torn asunder in all the best ways. Perfection not marred, but made better. Completed. Looking up at you with wonder, with gratitude, with a smile.

You look down at her and admit it, “Perfect.”

Mina laughs out loud, “Disastrously perfect.”

“This is going to be a problem, isn’t it?”

You kiss her once more.

Mina kisses you back.

“Only if we make it one.”

—

You think you can read her mind.

And she, yours.

It’s the only way any of this makes sense—how perfect you fit together, how well you read each other; fill each other’s needs without use of any words outside of curses and names and strangled pleas.

Printed onto your DNA, carved into your bones, these exact pathways you shape through her home and into her skin.

You do make it to the bedroom, somehow.

And then, exactly as predicted:

The shower, where Mina takes you into her mouth, gags herself around you, covers herself in your cum before letting the water wash it all away.

Then the kitchen, polishing off a bottle of wine, slurring promises into Mina’s cunt, having her rake the back of your scalp and scream the same promises back into your ears.

And finally, the living room, folding her over the couch, tumbling onto the floor with Mina, riding you so hard the neighbours below start banging on their ceiling in protest.

It's only the balcony that goes untouched.

Maybe another time.

But that’s where it ends: sprawled across a lush rug, sticky with sweat and cum and wine, naked and bare. Ignoring the watchful eyes of the photos that line the walls and shelves—family, friends, her boyfriend. Just living in this bubble where the sun will never rise and the world outside ceases to exist.

Getting to know each other in ways few people ever do.

Tracing patterns into the small of her back, asking these questions. Is this what you always imagined you would be doing? How you thought your life would be? Does it ever actually feel enough?

Mina pokes and prods back, her nails lightly scraping against your chest, leaving half-moons in her wake. Do you think you could ever be happy? Do you ever wonder why it’s so hard for other people to keep up? Are you fucked up in all the same ways as me?

And it’s so easy to answer truthfully, to be honest, because you’re both still maintaining the façade of this just being a simple fling; a blip along the timeline of your lives.

The yours and mine of it all, all those promises you were spilling. Just callous words tossed in the throes of passion.

They didn’t mean anything real.

Because it’s not like you’re going to see each other again, not like there’s going to be a mess of emotions and consequences that will have to be dealt with in the morning after.

Eventually though, the light does slip through the curtains, the clothes come back on, and you’re kissing Mina against the doorway and thinking of a million reasons why you should stay.

"So, how long are we going to pretend that this is normal?" You broach, and it immediately feels like you’re breaking some unspoken rule.

Mina’s keeping herself busy, hands at your shirt, buttoning it back into place, one by one. Hiding away evidence that her mouth, her lips, her teeth were ever on you.

She looks up at you. Smirks. “Fucking ‘til the break of dawn, giving each other orgasms that never quite end? Flooding each one of my holes with your cum?”

You tilt your head.

“I don’t know. This whole thing is… unique. Uncharted territory and all.”

“It goes without saying, but, yeah. Same for me.” You echo, “Unique.”

You reach for her, smoothing her hair back. The early morning light makes it shine like a crown of jewels.

“Do you want it to stay that way?”

Mina considers. Leans into your hand. “You think we should make a habit out of this? I didn’t pin you for the type.”

“Neither did I, but it didn’t seem so bad when you were riding me on that couch,” you tease. “And in the shower, and on the staircase, and in the kitchen…”

She blushes, lips caught between her teeth, looking like she’s struggling to hold in a laugh. There’s this glint in her eye as her hand wanders up to your cheek, thumb hovering just shy of your mouth. For a second, you think she’s going to kiss you again.

But instead, she just looks at you.

Eyes you with something close to fascination, something that makes your heart stop. And you're reading each other’s minds again, knowing you're both going to lie, going to pretend like this was just a one-night thing. Something the two of you can easily wipe your hands with and walk away from like it never even happened.

Because this really is the first time—you’ve never done anything like this before. Sure you’ve dipped your toe in the pool of commitment, paddled around in the shallow end, but you’ve never fallen for someone proper.

Never worried about what someone's going to be doing when you’re not there, never thought about whether you’d be better off sticking around to find out.

But you have a job. A company to run.

And Mina, a career. A boyfriend. A life.

So, you don’t make plans.

You don’t even ask for her number.

You don't need to.

Deep down inside you know you’ll find her again.

For now though, you spin your bullshit: “It’s probably for the best if we don’t, though.”

“Probably.” Mina agrees, but she can hear the same ticking clock as you.

The timer that’s already started, counting down to when she’ll inevitably be undoing the same buttons, redrawing the same patchwork of red and pink across your chest, and pulling you into her home and into her; fucking her pussy, her ass, her mouth, in all the ways she needs, until you’re spilling out of her all over again.

“Definitely.” Mina unlocks the front door. “For the best.”

#kpop smut #mina smut #twice smut #male reader

832 notes · View notes

wcters · 2 days ago

Text

𝗔𝗗𝗠𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗡𝗘𝗗 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!admin!reader

summary: the new social media admin may have a tiny crush on charles . . . and people are catching on, including the man himself

request: charles x social media admin!reader pleasee

warnings: swearing, established relationships | sorry it’s so short, i have had soooo many tests recently 😔😔😔 hopefully i’ll have more time to write 🤘

scuderiaferrari

liked by f1, user3, and 320,104 others

scuderiaferrari in and around the paddock 📸

view all 217 comments

user1 admin doing god’s work 🙏🙏

user2 LETHAL facecard

user3 missing some sainz here 🤨🤨

user4 awooga 😍

user5 where’s the pictures of carlos??

↳ user6 there’s been a lack of carlos lately

user7 besties 👯‍♀️

↳ scuderiaferrari besties who stay together, slay together 💅💅

scuderiaferrari

liked by user1, user2, and 198,393 others

scuderiaferrari snippets from admin’s camera roll 🤳

view all 112 comments

user1 lots of charles in the admins phone 🤨🤨

↳ user2 they’re so real for that

user3 where can i volunteer to be a social media admin

↳ scuderiaferrari don’t take my job 😔😔

user4 the first picture got me shivering

user5 the new admin doing all of us a favour 🙏🙏

user6 there’s been a lot of charles lately….

↳ user7 are you thinking there’s drama going on??

↳ user8 if you’re talking about drama as in the admin having a crush on charles? yes

yourusername

liked by yourfriend, charles_leclerc, and 1,309 others

yourusername all in a days work

view all 56 comments

yourfriend bitch tbat ain’t working that’s called rotting

↳ yourusername don’t call me out 😔

user1 last picture is too real ‼️

user2 are you the ferrari admin??

↳ yourusername 😦😦😦

charles_leclerc is that what you do when you aren’t working?

↳ yourusername don’t look, this wasn’t meant for you to see

user3 she really started to panic there

user4 cutie patootie 😚

f1gossip

liked by user1, user3, and 23,083 others

f1gossip charles leclerc and supposed ferrari social media admin seen out for lunch together in monaco. this is after some speculation about the woman having a crush on charles or them being together. what do you think is going on?

view all 98 comments

user1 she really is in a wattpad book

user2 i mean, if i ever got the opportunity to go on a date with charles i would go, who wouldn’t??

user3 she’s just like us, for real for real ✊✊

user4 anyone know her name?

↳ user5 i think it’s y/n, but that’s all i know

user6 they look cute together

scuderiaferrari

liked by user1, user5, and 283,0136 others

scuderiaferrari did someone say race day?

view all

user1 girl quit playing we know

user2 she’s living my dream 😫😫

user3 they’re in love in the first picture

user4 i just know the middle picture was y/n being in love and not for media but ended up in it anyway

user5 lord perceval and smooth operator 👯‍♀️👯‍♀️

user6 manifesting a 1-2 ferrari podium 🙏🙏

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, yourfriend, and 2,945 others

yourusername first race as an admin and a girlfriend 🤘

view all 63 comments

yourfriend I KNEW IT

yourfriend now time to set me up with lewis hamilton 😽😽😽

↳ yourusername 🫡🫡

user1 @yourfriend so real for that

user2 alright, where’s the mentally ill teenager with a pen writing this 🤨🤨🤨

charles_leclerc ❤️❤️

user3 so cute !!!

user4 what in the wattpad

user5 i had a gut feeling this would happen

694 notes · View notes

i2sunric · 3 days ago

Text

𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐘 (p.sh)

PAIRING: hockeyplayer!sunghoon x classpresident!reader (f)

SUMMARY: after an argument caused by his overwhelming jealousy, you decide to find him in the hockey changing rooms to show him your loyalty, by getting down on your knees.

WARNINGS: jealousy (borderline toxic?) argument, fighting, sunghoon has a bad temperament, smut (blowjob, deepthroat), dirty talking, dom!hoon but reader knows her way with him, cum in mouth, cum eating, high school au (but they’re both 19), hoon is slightly toxic, pet names (slut, baby), messy blowjob, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD

PUBLISHED: 27th November 2024

WC: 2.1k

TAGLIST: permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @destinyhoon @jakeflvrz @emislove @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvr r @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @senascoooop @mitmit01 @cloud-lyy @won4me @slut4hee @leov3rse @aanniikkaa @lvnglysunoo @lovingvoidgoatee @talesofthegreatest @yeonjunswife05 @soobieboo @llearlert @j1sb4e @roslayy @yunhoswrldddd @eneiyri @jakeswifez @malak13567889 @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @hoonics BOLDS COULD NOT BE TAGGED

a/n: peekaboo! guess who rose from not the dead but my drafts? yup, this fic i never actually had the inspiration to write. please REBLOG & COMMENT to share and lmk your thoughts.

The cold air from the rink clung to your skin as you stormed down the corridor, the sound of your heels clicking pounding in your ears.

Every word from the argument replayed in your mind, sharper each time, like tiny blades cutting into your chest. You’d always known about Sunghoon’s temper, how he buried that dangerous, jealous side of himself for you.

He was used to getting into fights and spending more time in detention than in class, but he had tried to change the exact moment you became his girlfriend.

He tried, but sometimes it slipped through the cracks. Sometimes it surged to the surface, fiery and unrelenting, like it had the day before.

For a moment, you just stood there, breathing hard. You thought you’d gotten used to it—the way his jealousy twisted into anger, the way he let it consume him.

It hadn’t, truthfully, but you were going to make everything right again, even if it meant swallowing your pride — and his dick — Because he was more important.

As soon as your council meeting ended, you decided to rush to the hockey changing room in order to get Sunghoon before morning classes.

You waited for everyone to exit, knowing that if your boyfriend was any the annoyed teenage kid he was, he’d take a long shower to calm his nerves.

You ignored all the wolf whistles and viscous smirk as you pushed the door of the male changing rooms open, after making sure everyone except Sunghoon was out.

And there you saw him, sculpted like a Greek god as his dignity was covered only with a towel while he dried his hair with another.

His eyes closed momentarily before quickly snapping back open as his head turned towards the door.

Sunghoon stepped forwards with the towel wrapped around his waist, water still dripping from his hair but his muscles were prominent as he stared down at you

"What the hell are you doing in here?" he spoke, tone harsh and annoyed as he stepped closer to you.

You already knew he was mad, so be it. You stood in front of him with your backpack in hand, your hair perfectly combed and uniform neat “We need to talk.”

Sunghoon's jaw tightened at your words, his eyes narrowing on you as he continued to walk towards you while looking down at you like you were some kind of prey. "Yeah? Well, if you couldn't tell, I’m kind of busy here,"

You sighed, placing your backpack on one of the benches, side stepping him “I can wait.”

"And you think you're allowed to just wait in here? You shouldn't be in here in the first place," He retorted impatiently as he also turned around, walking towards his own locker to grab some clean clothes.

“Then I’ll just have to break some rules.” You replied, letting him know you weren’t backing down. “Why are you mad at me?”

Sunghoon clenched his jaw as he grabbed his boxers, pulling them on under his towel and removing it around his waist before reaching for his school pants.

He didn't bother to turn around to look at you as he was getting dressed, but his attitude changed a bit at your question, scoffing in response. "You really wanna know why I'm mad?" he retorted as he grabbed a plain black t-shirt to go over his head.

You eyed him shamelessly as he got dressed. "That's what I just asked."

Sunghoon couldn't help but notice the way your eyes remained on him, watching as he pulled the t-shirt over his head, his muscles straining against the fabric as he finally looked back at you, eyes dark and expression cold. "It's because of that prick from the council you've been spending so much time with," He responded with venom in his tone as he spoke.

“What about him?” You already knew what was the rant about, you had already heard all of his jealous tantrum the day before.

Still, you needed him to talk to you.

He clearly was not happy about the fact that you were acting clueless. "Don't play stupid with me," he sneered, "You know exactly why I’m mad. You've been spending so much time with that bastard from the council, right under my nose."

You sighed, hands resting on your hip “Because he helps me with my election campaign,” you filled in “Nothing more, don’t act like I’m hooking up with someone.”

Sunghoon couldn't help but scoff again, clearly not believing you whatsoever. "You really expect me to believe that bullshit?" he retorted, his tone cold. "You're constantly with that prick every time I see you. How am I supposed to believe you haven't been doing anything behind my back?"

You raised a brow at him. Clearly, what he had said wasn’t of your liking, “Why do you doubt me?”

"Oh, don't give me that look," He shot back, his expression cold and indifferent as he stared down at you with narrowed eyes. "I have every reason to doubt you. Everytime I see the two of you, you're all chummy, standing way too close together."

You walked close to him, slowly, like a panther ready to attack; waiting for the right time.

“Choose your words carefully.” You said, lowly “Because you know well I would never cheat on you.”

His nostrils filled with the smell of your perfume that he always loved.

He was about to attack again but your words shut him up immediately, his eyes locking with yours as he was slightly intimidated.

However, he still tried to keep his cold, indifferent façade, scoffing again as he leaned against a locker. "I can say whatever the hell I want," he retorted stubbornly.

You looked up at him “What do you need?” you asked “Do you need me to prove myself to you?”

Sunghoon couldn't help but notice the way you stared up at him, and as much as he wanted to keep his cold facade and be stubborn, he was also slightly affected by the fact that you were making it so difficult for him to stay mad at you.

“What are you getting at?" he asked, his tone still harsh as he kept his eyes locked on yours, his arms folded as he leaned against the locker.

Your tone was low “You need my reassurance, Hoon?” his heart skipped a beat as you called him by his nickname, something you never did when you're upset.

"What kind of reassurance?" he questioned, “My loyalty.” you replied.

“And how do you plan on showing me?” your hand slowly travelled up his thigh to squeeze his groin.

Sunghoon reached out for you, his hands gripping onto your hips tightly as he pulled you closer so your body was now pressed against his. "Is this you being loyal?"

You smirked and squeezed him, nodding your head, making Sunghoon suppress a shiver. A mocking scoff left his lips “Yeah? You think that is enough?”

You rolled your eyes, “You think so lowly of me.” you slowly sank down to your knees.

Your long socks weren’t long enough to cover your knees and neither was your skirt, which meant you’d have some serious sore knees later. But it didn’t matter, not when you needed to redeem yourself to your boyfriend.

Sunghoon's eyes widened as you sank to your knees in front of him, now face to face with the prominent tent in his pants he had tried to hide from you moments ago.

“This isn't proving anything yet," he managed to spit out, his tone shakier than ever.

Instead of verbally replying, something you know would only lead to yet another fight, you decided to lower his pants.

Sunghoon wasn’t average, he was thick and long, something you had tried to cope with over the time you dated. Because it hurt, but it hurt so good.

As his boxers and pants fell down to his ankles, his cock sprung free, proud and red in front of you.

“Are you such a slut?” He asked, even if his hands gently gathered your hair so you wouldn’t dirty them “Going to your knees to resolve everything, uh?”

You rolled your eyes and began giving kitten kisses to his prominent bulge, making Sunghoon shiver.

Your hand wrapped around his cock, and you pumped him painfully slowly.

He let out a soft groan in response, especially when your finger brushed against a certain vein that had his hips buck.

Your lips enfolded his angry tip, tasting the salty precum “Fuck,” Sunghoon sighed.

Impatient, and still irritated by your argument, he gripped your hair and pushed his length deep inside your throat.

You gagged at the sudden action, trying to take deep breaths not to actually retch your breakfast.

You looked up at him with an annoyed gaze, making your boyfriend chuckle “Can’t take it?”

You hummed, sending vibrations through his whole body as you bobbed your head back and forth.

Sunghoon leaned his own against the locker, his other hand flexing as he got lost in the pleasure you were giving him.

You pulled away to gather your breath, saliva and spit coating your lips. It was such a hot sight for Sunghoon.

You cleaned your mouth and used your saliva to lubricate his shaft, pumping him and then taking him again.

You tried not to gag again around him, using one of your hands to help you where you couldn’t reach.

“Good girl.” Sunghoon murmured, slowly going back to his usual self.

You smirked around his cock and pushed your head deeper, feeling his thick tip hitting the back of your throat.

Sunghoon let out a low moan, “Fuck, just like that.” he breathed out, “Bet that guy would dream of having you like this, mh? Should I take a picture and send it to him?”

You shook your head, but at the idea of Sunghoon being so jealous he’d even snap a picture while you were sucking his dick aroused you. You squeezed your thighs together to soothe the aching feeling in your core.

“Keep going,” Sunghoon changed as he matched your pace with his own thrust, each one almost making you gag, “Your mouth was made to suck my dick.”

It was a challenge, but you’d endure it if it meant soothing the beast that lay under his skin. Your beast, your demon.

When you felt his legs tremble, you knew he was close, so you hollowed your cheeks and let him fuck into your mouth.

One of your hands dropped limp while you used the other to palm his balls, adding to the already overwhelming pleasure he was feeling.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby.” He said, trying and failing to get you to move away.

You were all dolled up for school, and he had already messed up your hair, he didn’t want to stain your uniform with his cum, however erotic such an image was.

You let out a disapproving hum, which was enough to send him over the edge.

“Ah— Shit.” His cock twitched in your mouth as you wrapped your lips around his length and swallowed all off his seed, greedily taking every drop.

His hips bucked weakly a couple of times before you pulled away and licked your lips.

Standing up on wobbly legs, you took a tissue from the pocket of your skirt and cleaned your mouth, as well as some smudged make up.

“You didn’t have to swallow it.” Sunghoon said as he tucked his softened cock inside his pants, “I know how much you don’t enjoy it.”

It was true. You thought it was gross to swallow whenever you gave him head, but you also knew how much he loved it. He loved when you took his cum, when you gave him a reason to claim you.

“If I didn’t want to swallow, I wouldn’t have done it.” You replied, fixing your hair and taking your discarded backpack.

Just in time, the bell rang. Being the (hopefully) soon-to-be school president, you couldn’t manage to arrive late to class, so you tiptoed and pressed a quick peck on Sunghoon’s lips.

“I’ll see you after school, yeah?” You murmured, smirking when you noticed how flustered he was, “I’ll let you take me in whatever position you want.”

Sunghoon shook his head, wrapping a strong arm around your waist and pressing a hot kiss to your mouth. Argument long forgotten, “Where did I find you?”

You wiggle your brows “In your wildest dreams.”

848 notes · View notes

pfaugh · 18 hours ago

Text

From "They Thought They Were Free" by Milton Mayer (1966)

A chemical engineer by profession, he was a man of whom, before I knew him, I had been told, “He is one of those rare birds among Germans—a European.” One day, when we had become very friendly, I said to him, “Tell me now—how was the world lost?”

“That,” he said, “is easy to tell, much easier than you may suppose. The world was lost one day in 1935, here in Germany. It was I who lost it, and I will tell you how.

“I was employed in a defense plant (a war plant, of course, but they were always called defense plants). That was the year of the National Defense Law, the law of ‘total conscription.’ Under the law I was required to take the oath of fidelity. I said I would not; I opposed it in conscience. I was given twenty-four hours to ‘think it over.’ In those twenty-four hours I lost the world.”

“Yes?” I said.

“You see, refusal would have meant the loss of my job, of course, not prison or anything like that. (Later on, the penalty was worse, but this was only 1935.) But losing my job would have meant that I could not get another. Wherever I went I should be asked why I left the job I had, and, when I said why, I should certainly have been refused employment. Nobody would hire a ‘Bolshevik.’ Of course I was not a Bolshevik, but you understand what I mean.”

“Yes,” I said.

“I tried not to think of myself or my family. We might have got out of the country, in any case, and I could have got a job in industry or education somewhere else.

“What I tried to think of was the people to whom I might be of some help later on, if things got worse (as I believed they would). I had a wide friendship in scientific and academic circles, including many Jews, and ‘Aryans,’ too, who might be in trouble. If I took the oath and held my job, I might be of help, somehow, as things went on. If I refused to take the oath, I would certainly be useless to my friends, even if I remained in the country. I myself would be in their situation.

“The next day, after ‘thinking it over,’ I said I would take the oath with the mental reservation that, by the words with which the oath began, ‘Ich schwöre bei Gott, I swear by God,’ I understood that no human being and no government had the right to override my conscience. My mental reservations did not interest the official who administered the oath. He said, ‘Do you take the oath?’ and I took it. That day the world was lost, and it was I who lost it”

That feels like a good, self-contained thing. But if I haven't lost you yet, there's some more afterwards that I think is about as relevant.

“Do I understand,” I said, “that you think that you should not have taken the oath?”

“Yes.”

“But,” I said, “you did save many lives later on. You were of greater use to your friends than you ever dreamed you might be.” (My friend’s apartment was, until his arrest and imprisonment in 1943, a hideout for fugitives.

...

“Of course I must explain. First of all, there is the problem of the lesser evil. Taking the oath was not so evil as being unable to help my friends later on would have been. But the evil of the oath was certain and immediate, and the helping of my friends was in the future and therefore uncertain. I had to commit a positive evil, there and then, in the hope of a possible good later on. The good outweighed the evil; but the good was only a hope, the evil a fact.”

“But,” I said, “the hope was realized. You were able to help your friends.”

“Yes,” he said, “but you must concede that the hope might not have been realized—either for reasons beyond my control or because I became afraid later on or even because I was afraid all the time and was simply fooling myself when I took the oath in the first place.

...

Shall we say, just to be safe, that three million innocent people were killed all together?”

I nodded.

“And how many innocent lives would you like to say I saved?”

“You would know better than I,” I said.

“Well,” said he, “perhaps five, or ten, one doesn’t know. But shall we say a hundred, or a thousand, just to be safe?”

I nodded.

“And it would be better to have saved all three million, instead of only a hundred, or a thousand?” “Of course.” “There, then, is my point. If I had refused to take the oath of fidelity, I would have saved all three million.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You are an American,” he said again, smiling. “I will explain. There I was, in 1935, a perfect example of the kind of person who, with all his advantages in birth, in education, and in position, rules (or might easily rule) in any country. If I had refused to take the oath in 1935, it would have meant that thousands and thousands like me, all over Germany, were refusing to take it. Their refusal would have heartened millions. Thus the regime would have been overthrown, or, indeed, would never have come to power in the first place. The fact that I was not prepared to resist, in 1935, meant that all the thousands, hundreds of thousands, like me in Germany were also unprepared, and each one of these hundreds of thousands was, like me, a man of great influence or of great potential influence. Thus the world was lost.”

19K notes · View notes

littlelamy · 2 days ago

Note

Rafe x Reader request: They’ve been going on a few dates, with Rafe in the hopes to get in in her pants. Rafe has been more of a fuckboy, lots of experience, kicks girls out as soon as it’s done and have they been inexperienced – he’s kicked them out straight away before anything happens, not having any energy to ‘’teach’’. Cue to Reader and him about to get intimate, she confesses to being a virgin and he kicks her out. HOWEVER……he this time feels like absolute shit about seeing how sad she got and realizes he has fallen for her….and he tries to fix it (happy ending)

a/n: thank you for request, hope you like it!!💗

rafe cameron was never one to think much beyond the moment. he didn’t overanalyze his hookups, didn’t question why they always left with messy hair and no promises of a second date. he had a rhythm to his life, and it worked for him. girls came and went, his phone a revolving door of contacts he didn’t even bother saving half the time.

until you showed up.

it wasn’t just that you were beautiful—plenty of girls were. but you had this quiet confidence about you, a way of looking at him that didn’t scream take me home now. you made him work for your attention, your time, your smiles. and god, he wanted to work for it.

the first few dates were surprisingly normal. no wild nights, no sneaky excuses to get you alone in his room. you made him laugh, made him feel something he hadn’t in years—light, easy, like he could just be rafe without any expectations. but tonight, as you sat on his couch, sipping wine and smiling at him in that way that made his chest ache, rafe couldn’t ignore the tension humming between you any longer.

he leaned in, testing the waters with a soft brush of his lips against yours. when you didn’t pull away, he kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands sliding to your waist. you melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair, and that was all the invitation he needed.

rafe pulled you closer, his hands wandering beneath your shirt, his kisses growing more urgent. but just as his fingers brushed against the clasp of your bra, you stiffened, pulling back suddenly.

“wait,” you whispered, your voice shaky.

rafe froze, his hands stilling as he searched your face. “what’s wrong?”

you bit your lip, looking anywhere but at him. “i… i need to tell you something.”

his heart sank, the worst possibilities flashing through his mind. “what is it?”

“i’ve never done this before,” you said quietly, barely audible.

the words hung in the air, heavy and unexpected. rafe blinked, his mind struggling to catch up. “you mean…?”

“i’m a virgin,” you clarified, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

the room suddenly felt too small, too quiet. rafe sat back, running a hand through his hair as he tried to process. a virgin. you were a virgin. he hadn’t expected that. he hadn’t planned for that.

“shit,” he muttered under his breath.

you pulled your knees to your chest, your voice small. “i’m sorry. i should’ve told you sooner.”

“no, it’s not…” rafe trailed off, shaking his head. “it’s not your fault. it’s just… i don’t think i’m the right guy for this.”

your eyes shot up to meet his, wide with confusion and hurt. “what do you mean?”

“i mean… i don’t think i can give you what you deserve for your first time,” he said, his voice hollow. “you should be with someone who can… i don’t know, make it special or whatever. someone who knows how to handle that.”

the words tasted bitter as he said them, but he convinced himself it was the right thing to do. he wasn’t the guy for you, not for something this big. he couldn’t risk screwing it up.

you stood abruptly, grabbing your bag. “i see.”

“wait—”

“no, it’s fine,” you interrupted, your voice trembling as you headed for the door. “thanks for letting me know where we stand.”

rafe didn’t stop you. he didn’t know how. the door clicked shut behind you, and the silence that followed was deafening.

the guilt hit him almost immediately.

rafe spent the next few days trying to ignore the gnawing pit in his stomach, but it was useless. every time he closed his eyes, he saw the hurt on your face, the way your voice cracked when you said thanks for letting me know where we stand.

he tried to tell himself he did the right thing. he wasn’t equipped for this. he wasn’t worthy of this. but that reasoning felt thinner with every passing hour.

by the third sleepless night, he couldn’t take it anymore.

you weren’t expecting to see rafe when you opened the door. he stood there with a sheepish expression, holding a bouquet of flowers that looked suspiciously last-minute.

“hi,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

you crossed your arms, leaning against the doorframe. “what do you want?”

“i came to apologize.”

“for what?” you asked, your tone sharp.

“for being a fucking idiot,” he said, his words tumbling out in a rush. “i handled things wrong, and i know i hurt you. i didn’t mean to, but i did, and i’m sorry.”

you stared at him, your defenses still firmly in place. “why now?”

rafe sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “because i haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night. because i was wrong to push you away, and i hate that i made you feel like i didn’t care.”

your heart softened despite yourself, but you weren’t ready to let him off the hook just yet. “and what happens if i let you back in? do you just push me away again the second things get complicated?”

“no,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “i won’t. i swear. i just… i freaked out because i’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and it scared the hell out of me. but i’m done running from it. from you.”

the vulnerability in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes, made your resolve crack. slowly, you stepped aside, letting him in.

rafe didn’t rush you after that.

he was patient in a way you hadn’t expected, taking the time to get to know you in ways that had nothing to do with sex. he remembered the little things you told him—your favorite coffee order, the song that always made you cry, the way you liked your eggs in the morning.

and gradually, the walls between you began to crumble.

it was weeks later, on a quiet friday night, that things came full circle. you were sitting on his couch again, your legs tucked under you as you watched a movie. his arm was draped casually over your shoulders, his thumb tracing absentminded circles on your skin.

when you turned to look at him, he was already watching you, his gaze soft and warm.

“what?” you asked, smiling.

“nothing,” he said, his lips twitching into a grin. “you’re just really fucking cute.”

you rolled your eyes, but your cheeks flushed. “shut up.”

he didn’t. instead, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow and deliberate. his hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face to deepen the kiss.

this time, when his hands wandered, you didn’t stop him.

“are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

you nodded, your eyes locked on his. “i’m sure.”

rafe didn’t rush. he took his time, every touch, every kiss deliberate and reverent. he didn’t just want you—he wanted to make you feel safe, cherished.

and when it was over, he didn’t pull away. instead, he held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you as if letting go would mean losing you all over again.

for the first time in his life, rafe cameron didn’t feel the need to run. he didn’t feel the need for anyone else.

he just wanted you.

and he wasn’t going to mess it up again.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl l @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

#rafe imagine #rafe x you #rafe outer banks #rafe fic #rafe #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafecore #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fanfiction #dark rafe cameron #rafe smut #૮꒰ྀིo̴̶̷̤⩊o̴̶̷̤꒱ྀིა lamy req.。 ♡

316 notes · View notes

beloveds-embrace · 3 days ago

Note

Can we get that dark version of graves 💀. Sorry no hate to him but I like how this men operates lowkey like mafia in the dukedom au. Also is Konig still her personal guard in the regular au?

In the regular au, no, I don’t have König for her in there lol fyi i wrote this while spaced out during a lecture im sorry if it sounds rushed lol 😭

Referenced post

As for Graves: god, he is so smug. So, so smug, arrogance and pride growing each second he spends with you and over you. It shows in his gait when he walks, when he begins lording over the other servants and staff, when he begins latching to you, joining you on your free time when he checks beforehand that no one else is there with you. All of this even before you tell John your request.

After you do, and after you insist you really do want Graves, he becomes almost like a blown up balloon. He wants to monopolize all your time, all your interactions, and why would you say no when he gives you the love and affection you long for?

You don’t say no; but the same can’t be said for them.

It doesn’t matter if Graves truly loves you back. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t love you and only wants to desperately hold on to his one chance of rising in society. Nothing about Graves really matters to them except how to break his connection to you.

Graves thinks that the reason the rest of the staff slowly begin to distance themselves from him, ill-mannered towards him in general, is out of jealousy due to his closeness to you. He thinks that the reason John adds more stable hands is because you want to have others help him and who he can lord over. He thinks the reason bland and spoiled food he gets is because the cook is jealous of him, as well. Who wouldn’t be, knowing it’s only him who has your affection?

He thinks everything is done for him, due to you. It makes him latch all the more to you, and you love it even if you sometimes look confused by it.

When you send him a letter, askinh to meet him privately late at night in the woods behind the duchy, it’s the first time he’s considered saying no to you. But as it is, Graves thinks you are a spoiled thing, born with a silver spoon, and he doesn’t want to spoil his standing with you. The woods behind the duchy are a bit… unconventional. He’s heard rumors of servants sometimes dying in there, a long time ago, but there was no solid evidence of it ever.

Whatever it is, he can deal with it. His confidence builds when Kyle greets him formally, a little smile on his lips compared to the previous days. The food he’s presented with is delicious and warm, and Duke Riley even gives him a nod when passing by him. He gets called into John’s office to talk about a payrise, as well.

Everything’s well. Going into the woods, therefore, shouldn’t be a problem.

It shouldn’t have been a problem.

Stumbling through the dark woods in question, cradling his bleeding leg, Graves begins to realize that he’s made a horrific misjudgment.

Why would you, of all people, want to meet here? You, soft and delicate? You, who has never known what it feels like to have a single scratch on your body?

This place isn’t meant for you. You wouldn’t even consider this place.

You didn’t send him that letter.

And Graves is realizing it just now.

He lets out another pained shout when his foot catches onto a bear trap, falling forward. Hands and knees scratched, blood pooling under him, and covered with the dark canopy of the night sky with nothing to guide him except the dim light of the stars, Graves has never felt more hopeless.

The snapping of dead twigs and leaves, loud in the suffocating silence of the woods, makes his twist his neck to see-

Beasts. Snarling, deep dark beasts, gaping maws and rows of twisted, sharp teeth. They laugh and bark, snapping at him and there is nothing he can do to struggle back because the damned trap is still holding him down.

Behind those beasts, there is a figure. The eyes that peer at him in hatred are familiar, but Graves cannot recall their owner at this moment. Tall, blond hair, at the manor ever so often-

“You should not have touched what doesn’t belong to you, Graves.”

He is not granted enough time to think about how familiar the voice is.

And so, on a dark January night, Philip Graves disappears.

“Still no sign?” You ask, twisting your handkerchief between your hands again. Your days have been hard, lately, and grow harder the longer your lover remains missing. Though you aren’t even sure if he is truly missing. If he was, then how come the rest of the servants all said that they couldn’t find any of his personal belongings?

He had seemed so happy with you… you don’t understand.

“I’m afraid not,” Simon tells you softly, coming to stand beside you. He holds a hand out for you, and despite knowing it wouldn’t be proper, you do not stop him from drawing you into a hug. “The dogs didn’t find any traces of him, either.”

Your eyes move over to the two dogs curled on their respective pillows, one napping and the other chewing on a bone. You loved them; they were all over you the second Simon had brought them to you, rolling over to get stomach rubs from you. They provided a temporary retrieve from your dark and depressing thoughts, just simply holding them making you feel better.

“They are good hunters.” Simon had told you, his knuckles gently wiping away your tears. “If he is anywhere lost nearby, they will find him.”

But now, there wasn’t a trace of him. You hated to admit it, but perhaps Philip’s leave might have been his own choice…

“Do not cry.” Simon whispers softly when he hears you sniffling, arms warm around you. You melt against him, just clinging to this comfort. “John will still search, but you still have all of us to help you get through this, sweetheart.”

Get through this, and get over Graves. The rest of the staff all agreed that he wasn’t good for you, anyways, and the dogs had their fun.

And Simon now gets to hold and comfort you, after he’s already had quality time with the rest of his beloveds.

Your tears will dry, eventually, and your heart will open up again.

248 notes · View notes

solxamber · 3 days ago

Text

1800-Curse-Control || Lilia Vanrouge

You decide to open a hotline for curing curses with Lilia. It goes exactly how you imagined it would—maybe even a little better.

“Lilia,” you said, rubbing your temples as you leaned against the counter in Ramshackle’s disaster of a kitchen. “Grim’s eating me out of house and home, literally. If I can’t afford the repairs soon, the roof will cave in. But all he cares about is premium tuna! Do you know how much that stuff costs?”

Lilia, who was casually floating upside down for no apparent reason, looked entirely too entertained. “Ah, the plight of a homeowner,” he said, grinning. “Why not turn your misfortune into opportunity? I’ve been told I have exceptional customer service skills, and I’ve been dreadfully bored. Let’s open a hotline for removing curses!”

You blinked at him. “A hotline. For curing curses.”

“Yes, my dear beastie,” he said, flipping upright midair and landing gracefully. “Think about it! This school is crawling with fools who drink unlabeled potions, poke magical artifacts, and anger vengeful spirits just for sport. You’d be rich in a week!”

“…I hate how much sense that actually makes.”

“It’s a foolproof plan,” Lilia continued, already pulling a notepad from somewhere to scribble down ideas. “I’ll handle the exorcisms and the cackling, naturally. You, my dear entrepreneur, can be the charming face of the operation. We’ll call it—hmm—‘Curse-B-Gone.’”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine, ‘Hex Hotline.’”

You considered it. On one hand, it sounded completely ridiculous. On the other hand, there was that third-year who accidentally swapped his voice with a frog’s last week and the freshmen who kept mysteriously sprouting feathers.

“…How much are we charging?”

“Ah-ha! I knew you’d come around!” Lilia said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s see, we’ll need tiers. Minor hex removal? Hundred thaumarks. Major curses—hair-growing hexes, spontaneous transformation curses—those will start at Five Hundred.”

“And what about something, like, really bad? What if someone’s whole body turns into a pumpkin or something?”

“That’s a premium package. One thousand thaumarks.”

You nodded slowly. “Okay. Okay, I’m in. But if this flops, you’re buying Grim’s tuna for the next month.”

Lilia smirked, his fangs glinting mischievously. “Deal.”

By the end of the day, you’d set up a magical hotline using some weird orb Lilia “borrowed” from the library, a vaguely threatening poster campaign across the campus (“Cursed? Hexed? A jackal-headed god show up at your dorm? Call us!”), and a suspiciously well-stocked supply of anti-curse materials Lilia claimed were “leftovers” from his youth.

You weren’t sure whether to feel excited or like you’d just signed up for the most bizarre mistake of your life. Either way, you couldn’t wait to see how this would go down.

The orb hotline rang for the first time, glowing ominously on the rickety desk in Ramshackle. You and Lilia exchanged glances.

“Answer it!” he whispered, like this was some spy mission and not a cursed customer service line.

With a deep breath, you picked it up. “Uh… Hello, this is the Cursed and Confused Hotline. How can we—”

“YOU HAVE TO HELP ME!” Ace’s voice screamed on the other end. “HE’S GOING TO KILL ME THIS TIME!”

You winced, holding the orb away from your ear. “Ace? What happened?”

“I DON’T KNOW! I WAS JUST TRYING TO MAKE TEA!”

“Okay, and?”

“And I might’ve…accidentally used that weird sugar in the Heartslabyul pantry, the one that glows in the dark? And now Riddle’s head is covered in, like…peonies. Big, pink peonies. They keep growing whenever he gets mad, which, uh, is always.”

You slapped your forehead. “You cursed your housewarden?!”

“I DIDN’T MEAN TO!” Ace wailed. “I thought it was sugar, not cursed fertilizer! Look, can you just fix this before he declares ‘off with my head’ for real?”

“Ugh, fine. Where are you now?”

“Hiding in the rose bushes. He hasn’t found me yet, but I think I heard him sharpening a guillotine.”

“Classic Heartslabyul,” Lilia said cheerfully, already packing his so-called emergency kit.

When you and Lilia arrived at Heartslabyul, it was pure chaos. Riddle stood in the center of the garden, his face as red as his hair—and also half-obscured by an explosion of giant pink peonies blooming out of his head like some cursed bouquet.

“TREY!” Riddle bellowed. “GET THE GARDEN SHEARS!”

Ace was crouched in a rose bush nearby, whispering frantically. “Please tell me you brought an anti-cursed-flower spray or something!”

You ignored him and approached Riddle cautiously. “Uh, Riddle? You’ve got—”

“I KNOW WHAT I HAVE!” Riddle shrieked, a few more flowers blooming on his head. “I demand immediate remedy! Or else—”

“We’ll fix it,” Lilia cut in, grinning like this was the most fun he’d had in centuries. “Now, let’s see…” He pulled a vial of glowing liquid from his kit. “This should do the trick.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, eyeing the suspiciously fizzing vial.

“Of course not,” Lilia said, popping it open.

He dumped the liquid over Riddle’s head without warning. The flowers immediately shriveled up and disappeared.

Riddle blinked, touching his head in astonishment. “…It’s gone?”

“You’re welcome,” Lilia said with a dramatic bow.

Ace peeked out from the bushes. “So…he’s not mad anymore, right?”

Riddle’s death glare answered that question.

“RUN!” you yelled, dragging Ace out of the garden as Riddle shouted about punishment for “sugar crimes.”

Back at Ramshackle, you slumped against the desk. “We’re never doing house calls again.”

Lilia just laughed. “Oh, but the drama! I live for it!”

The hotline orb began glowing again, pulsing with a foreboding, bluish light.

You groaned. “If this is Ace again, I swear—”

Lilia waved his hand. “Come now, it’s probably another entertaining disaster! Answer it!”

You reluctantly picked up. “Cursed and Confused Hotline. What’s your—”

“FIX. THIS. NOW!” came Azul’s shrill, panicked voice.

You blinked. “Azul? What’s—”

“I CAN’T EVEN DESCRIBE WHAT HE’S DONE THIS TIME!”

“Oh, come on, Azul!” Floyd’s voice cut in, cackling in the background. “It’s a masterpiece!”

“Masterpiece?” Azul screeched. “You flooded the dining room and filled it with—WHY ARE THERE EELS IN THE SOUP POTS?”

“Because it’s hilarious!” Floyd howled, clearly having the time of his life.

Jade’s calm voice joined in, oozing politeness as always. “To be fair, Floyd has a point. The eels are thriving in there.”

Azul sputtered like a broken faucet. “THRIVING?! THEY’RE STEALING PEOPLE’S FOOD!”

“Sounds efficient to me,” Floyd said. You could practically hear him smirking. “Dinner and a show!”

Lilia perked up. “Eels in soup pots? How creative!”

“Don’t encourage him!” Azul barked. “Do you know how much it costs to repair the water damage he’s caused? The walls are dripping! The chandelier is dripping! I AM DRIPPING!”

“That’s not cursed,” you said, trying to hide your amusement. “That’s just Floyd being—well, Floyd.”

“Oh, no, it’s cursed,” Azul hissed. “Every time I try to remove the eels, the water level rises. They’re like aquatic squatters! Fix it or I swear I’ll—”

The sound of something massive splashing cut him off, followed by Floyd’s uncontrollable laughter.

“HAHAHA! He slipped into the soup pot! Jade, did you see that?”

“I did,” Jade replied, his voice as smooth as ever. “It was quite elegant.”

“AZUL’S AN EEL NOW!” Floyd cried. “Eel bros for life, baby!”

The orb started vibrating violently.

“Get. Over. Here. Now.” Azul’s voice was barely a whisper, the tone of someone seconds away from an aneurysm.

You sighed and grabbed your bag. “Let’s go before he implodes.”

When you arrived at Mostro Lounge, it was exactly what you expected—and somehow worse. The entire dining area was flooded, eels swam lazily in the soup pots, and Azul was perched on a chair, drenched from head to toe and glaring murderously at Floyd, who was happily paddling through the water like it was his personal playground.

“Finally!” Azul barked, waving his wet hand. “Do something! Anything!”

Floyd, half-submerged in a soup pot, waved at you. “Hey! You wanna join the eel party? First rule—no rules!”

Lilia clapped his hands. “This is magnificent chaos!”

Azul groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I’ll double your pay if you fix this immediately.”

You glanced at Lilia, who was already pouring a suspiciously glowing liquid into the water.

“This should work,” he said cheerfully.

The water started to drain, the eels vanished in puffs of smoke, and the room returned to normal—except for Floyd, who now floated upside down in midair, spinning like a cursed top.

“Whoa, this is AWESOME!” Floyd laughed, twirling like a maniac. “I’m a flying eel!”

Azul sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as you said “I’m charging you extra for emotional damages.”

The hotline orb flared up again, casting a frantic purple glow. You groaned, mid-sip of tea.

“I don’t know if I can handle more insanity.”

Lilia, perched upside down on the couch, grinned. “Nonsense! Chaos keeps the heart young. Answer it!”

Reluctantly, you picked it up. “Cursed and Confused Hotline. What did you do, and how bad is it?”

“It’s me! It’s Epel!” came the desperate, whisper-shouted voice of the Pomefiore freshman. “I need your help—immediately! I’ve got the worst curse of all on me.”

“Worst curse?” you asked, frowning. “What’s going on?”

“Vil,” Epel said, voice shaking. “And Rook.”

“...Epel, those are people, not curses.”

“They are when Vil finds out I repurposed his limited-edition face mask jars as apple cider mugs for the guys in Savanaclaw!”

Lilia burst into a delighted cackle. “Oh, that’s fantastic!”

“Not fantastic! Vil’s gonna flay me alive!” Epel hissed. “And Rook’s hunting me down like a rabbit in the woods. Please, ya gotta help!”

You tried not to laugh. “How exactly do you want me to help? I can’t exactly—”

A loud thud echoed through the call, followed by Epel screaming, “He found me! NO! PUT THAT BOW DOWN!”

“Bonjour, my friend~!” Rook’s voice came through, as smooth as velvet and disturbingly cheerful. “Ah, how beautiful the chase! Like a fox cornered by the hounds, our petit pomme has finally been found!”

“ROOK, NO! DON’T HAND ME OVER!”

“Oh, petit lapin,” Rook said, unbothered, “the punishment will only make you stronger. Think of it as a trial by fire!”

“I DON’T WANT TO BE STRONGER, I WANNA BE ALIVE!” Epel shrieked.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Rook, what exactly are you planning to do with him?”

“Ah, worry not,” Rook replied. “I am but a humble messenger delivering him to justice. Vil has been most patient.”

“HE CALLED ME A PEASANT AND THREW A HEEL AT ME, THAT’S PATIENT?” Epel howled.

Lilia leaned forward, thoroughly entertained. “Rook, at least let us have a word with Epel before he meets his doom.”

“But of course!”

“HELP ME!” Epel screamed the moment Rook handed him the phone. “Distract them, hex me, I dunno, CURSE ME INTO A TREE OR SOMETHING—”

“Epel,” you said firmly, trying not to laugh, “you’re going to have to face Vil eventually. What’s the worst he could do?”

“THE WORST? Oh, I dunno, exile me to a skincare bootcamp for the rest of my natural life?”

Rook’s voice floated in. “Imagine it, petit pomme: cleansing facials, detoxifying baths, and no more cider mugs. A new you!”

“YOU STAY OUTTA THIS!”

You sighed. “I can offer one thing.”

“Anything!”

“An apology. I suggest you start practicing now.”

“An apology?! I called Vil’s collection overhyped snake oil. I’m DOOMED!”

“Not if you run fast enough,” Rook chimed in cheerfully. “Shall we test your stamina?”

The call ended with Epel’s scream, followed by the distinct sound of someone bolting at full speed.

“Well,” Lilia said, smiling. “That was worth every second.”

Jamil’s voice crackled through the orb strained and absolutely done.

"Hi, yeah, it’s me again."

You rolled your eyes. "Let me guess. Kalim tried to throw a party?"

"And Cater," Jamil growled, the sound of something crashing in the background. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to manage one chaos gremlin? Now imagine two. They’ve cursed half the dorm—random objects are coming to life, and singing. And I don’t mean pleasant singing. I mean like if a banshee and a kazoo had a love child."

Lilia leaned in beside you, eyes glittering with delight. "Oho, this sounds entertaining! What did they do this time?"

Jamil sighed deeply, as if he’d just aged ten years in the past ten minutes. "Kalim thought it would be fun to 'spice up' a party by enchanting the decorations. Cater encouraged him, saying it would make a great Magicam post. The result? The curtains are now tap-dancing, the chandelier won’t stop singing old sea shanties, and the punch bowl tried to bite me."

Lilia clapped his hands. "This sounds like an excellent way to spend the afternoon! Let’s go!"

You groaned. "Why do I have to go?"

"Because you’re the only one who can keep Lilia from making things worse," Jamil deadpanned.

Arriving at Scarabia was like stepping into a fever dream. The furniture was waltzing around the room, the ceiling fan was chanting, "Spin me right round, baby, right round," and the aforementioned punch bowl snarled at you as you walked in.

Kalim, of course, was having the time of his life, clapping to the rhythm of the furniture parade. Cater was filming everything, laughing as he tried to get the chandelier to do a TikTok dance.

"Do you see what I have to deal with?" Jamil hissed, his hair practically frazzled.

"Let’s fix this before someone dies," you muttered, pulling out the anti-curse toolkit Lilia had handed you on the way.

"Or before someone posts this to Magicam and the entire world sees it," Jamil added grimly, glaring at Cater.

It started smoothly enough—well, as smoothly as any curse-breaking session with Lilia could go. The two of you worked to unravel the enchantments while dodging flying pillows and shrieking party streamers.

Then, of course, you made the mistake of touching an enchanted lamp.

It burst into song—loud, off-key, and somehow extremely personal. The lyrics were all about your lack of a love life and questionable fashion choices. Before you could fight back, it tangled itself around your arms and legs, dragging you upward toward the chandelier.

"Hey, uh, Lilia? Little help!"

Lilia, ever the dramatic savior, leaped into action. With a mischievous grin, he sliced through the magical binds with a well-aimed spell and caught you mid-fall.

You blinked up at him, heart hammering in your chest. His crimson eyes glimmered with amusement, his fangs showing in a victorious smirk. He cradled you with an ease that shouldn’t have been possible given his stature.

"You alright there, my dear?" he asked, voice low and teasing.

"Yeah, I’m fine," you muttered, face heating up. "Just…you know…trying not to die."

But your brain wasn’t focusing on that. It was too busy processing the fact that Lilia was holding you like you weighed nothing, and you could feel your pulse quickening. Damn it, why is my heart beating so fast?

He tilted his head, studying you with an unreadable expression. "Are you sure? Your face is a bit flushed."

"Nope! Totally fine!" you squeaked, scrambling out of his arms as soon as your feet touched the ground.

Jamil, watching the whole thing from across the room, rolled his eyes. "Great. Now you’re cursed too."

"Shut up, Jamil."

It took another hour, but the dorm was finally back to normal—or as normal as Scarabia could be. Kalim apologized profusely, Cater promised to delete the footage (he didn’t), and Jamil looked like he might snap at any moment.

As you and Lilia walked out, you tried to calm your racing heart, but he leaned in with a knowing grin.

"Quite the adventure today, wasn’t it?"

"Sure," you replied quickly, hoping your face wasn’t still red.

He hummed thoughtfully. "I wonder what’s got your heart racing so much. You’re not catching feelings for your favorite partner-in-chaos, are you?"

"Not a chance," you lied, your heart betraying you with another treacherous thump.

Lilia just chuckled, and you couldn’t tell if he believed you—or if he was just letting you stew in your own embarrassment for fun.

The enchanted orb buzzed frantically, and you groaned as you reached for it. The second you accepted the call, you heard Deuce.

“HELP! WE MESSED UP BAD!”

“Deuce?” you asked, already dreading the answer. “What did you do this time?”

Jack’s voice came through, exasperated and growly. “It wasn’t just him. I was there too.”

“Great,” you deadpanned. “So, what kind of mess am I cleaning up now?”

Deuce gulped. “We, uh… were practicing some spellwork for exams—”

“Right by the Spelldrive practice field,” Jack added grimly.

Your eyes widened. “Please don’t tell me you—”

“Destroyed the field? Yeah,” Deuce admitted miserably. “But we didn’t mean to! The explosion was an accident!”

You heard a sharp, angry voice in the background: “AN ACCIDENT?! YOU DESTROYED HALF THE FIELD, YOU LITTLE—”

“Leona’s there?” you asked, already standing up.

Deuce nodded frantically. “He’s so mad. Please come before he kills us!”

“Stay put,” you said, grabbing your things. “And pray he doesn’t finish you off before we get there.”

The Spelldrive practice field was a warzone. One goalpost was completely obliterated, sand smoldered in random patches across the ground, and an entire section of the bleachers looked like it had been hit by a tornado.

Leona was standing in the middle of the chaos, arms crossed, glaring daggers at Deuce and Jack, who were huddled behind a tipped-over bench like it could save them. His team stood a safe distance away, clearly too smart to get involved.

You arrived with Lilia in tow, who was already grinning like he’d just stumbled upon the most entertaining show of the year.

“Oh, this is delightful,” Lilia mused, surveying the carnage. “It’s like an abstract painting of destruction.”

“Not helping,” you muttered, jogging toward the scene.

Leona’s sharp green eyes locked onto you. “Finally. You gonna fix this mess, or do I get to turn these two into sandbags?”

“Leona,” you said, stepping between him and the disaster twins, “We’ll handle it. Just… don’t murder them. Yet.”

Leona snorted. “You’ve got five minutes.”

Lilia hummed a jaunty tune as he began waving his hands over the destroyed sections of the field. Slowly, the sand settled, the goalpost reformed, and the bleachers stopped looking like they’d gone through a blender.

Meanwhile, you kept Leona from pouncing on Deuce and Jack, who were watching Lilia work with wide eyes.

“You two better hope I don’t find out about another ‘accident,’” Leona growled, looming over you.

“Relax,” you said, holding up a hand. “They’re idiots, not criminals. Save your energy for your team.”

Leona rolled his eyes but stepped back, muttering something about “babysitters.”

When everything was finally back in order, Lilia dusted off his hands with a satisfied smile. “That was quite fun. We should let those two cause chaos more often.”

You shot him a look. “Please don’t encourage them.”

Leona, arms crossed and clearly annoyed, stepped closer. “You’re done? Good. I’ll send Ruggie with something to pay you later.” Then he smirked, eyes flicking between you and Lilia. “Now keep your lovesick asses away from my practice field.”

Your brain short-circuited. “Wha—?! Lovesick?”

Leona just walked off with a lazy wave, leaving you standing there, half-mortified.

Lilia leaned in, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “Oh my. He really has a way with words, doesn’t he?”

“Don’t you start,” you muttered, your face burning.

But when you turned to walk away, Lilia was by your side, chuckling softly. He caught your wrist gently, pulling you to a stop for just a moment. “For what it’s worth,” he said, voice quieter and more serious, “you were quite impressive back there, keeping Leona from turning them into mincemeat.”

Your heart did a flip. “Uh… thanks?”

He let go with a grin, stepping back and returning to his usual playful tone. “Now, let’s see if we can avoid the next disaster, hmm?”

You weren’t sure if your face would ever cool down.

Potions class with the first-year gang was never uneventful. Today was no exception. The room smelled faintly of burnt caramel as Grim waved his tiny paws at Ace, who was leaning smugly on the table.

“I told you not to put that in!” Grim yelped.

“I barely touched it!” Ace shot back.

“It doesn’t matter who did it!” Sebek barked, slamming his hands on the table. “What matters is that our potion is—”

“About to blow,” Jack growled, pointing to the cauldron bubbling ominously.

“Wait—WHAT?!” you yelped, but it was too late.

The cauldron erupted, spraying a shimmering pink mist over everyone. The class erupted into chaos as Sebek shouted about “inferior techniques,” Epel coughed dramatically like he was dying, and Deuce tried (and failed) to douse the sparks with his coat.

You, unfortunately, caught the brunt of the potion to the face.

You thought the effects were mild at first—just a faint warmth in your chest and the echo of the sugary-sweet scent in your nose. But when you sat down at lunch with Lilia and Malleus, the symptoms became impossible to ignore.

Lilia was chatting animatedly, laughing at his own jokes and waving his fork in the air, while Malleus nodded thoughtfully. But you weren’t hearing a word.

Your brain had decided that the only thing worth focusing on was how kissable Lilia’s lips looked.

Wait, what?

You shook your head, trying to clear it, but it only got worse. Now you were noticing how nice his voice was. And his smile. And the way his hand brushed yours when he passed the salt—

Oh, no.

“Child of man,” Malleus said, pulling you from your internal meltdown, “you seem… distracted.”

You blinked rapidly. “Uh. Yeah. Distracted. Totally fine. Definitely not—uh—totally infatuated with Lilia or anything.”

Lilia looked up, smirking. “Oh? How flattering.”

You nearly choked on your drink. “IT’S THE POTION!”

Malleus watched you pace back and forth in the hallway, his expression somewhere between amused and curious.

“You have to fix me,” you begged, grabbing his shoulders. “This has to be the potion talking. There’s no way I just—randomly—started thinking about Lilia like that!”

Malleus tilted his head, his eyes studying you intently. “You truly believe you are under an enchantment?”

“Yes! Of course!” You gestured wildly. “I mean, it’s Lilia! He’s my partner in crime! He’s—he’s—”

“Kissable?” Malleus offered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Your hands dropped to your sides. “You are so not helping.”

He stepped closer, his presence calm but commanding, and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Very well, child of man. Allow me to assess your condition.”

Malleus leaned forward, his magic swirling faintly around him as he studied you with eerie precision.

After a moment, he straightened, folding his arms. “The potion you were exposed to was a failure. Its intended effects are nonexistent.”

You froze. “What are you saying?”

Malleus raised an eyebrow. “I am saying that you are not under a spell. Your feelings are entirely your own.”

You stared at Malleus in horror.

“So… you’re telling me… I’m not cursed?”

“Precisely.”

“And this… this whole… wanting to kiss Lilia thing…” You paused, voice dropping to a mortified whisper. “That’s just me?”

Malleus nodded sagely. “Indeed.”

You covered your face with your hands. “No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening.”

Lilia’s voice drifted from the next room. “Are you done conspiring with Malleus, beastie? Lunch is getting cold!”

You peeked through your fingers at Malleus, who looked like he was thoroughly enjoying your suffering.

“Good luck, child of man,” he said, patting your shoulder.

You groaned. “I’m going to die.”

And yet, as you returned to the table and sat down next to Lilia, who greeted you with his usual teasing grin, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

You didn’t think it could get any worse than being late for class, but that was before Grim decided to experiment with potions unsupervised. Now, you and Lilia were sprinting through the halls of NRC, dodging a cursed army of flying spoons.

“I told Grim not to use the potions lab as a snack bar!” you gasped, barely ducking as a spoon zoomed past your head with terrifying precision.

Lilia, running beside you, was grinning like this was the most fun he’d had all week. “I must admit, this is an impressive level of chaos. Even I wouldn’t have thought to curse cutlery!”

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” you panted, grabbing his arm as another wave of spoons turned the corner. “Hide!”

The two of you dove behind a nearby tapestry, pressing against the wall as the spoons zipped past, their metallic clinking fading into the distance.

For a moment, it was quiet—except for the pounding of your heart.

Your breathing slowly steadied, but your heart didn’t. Not when Lilia was so close, his eyes gleaming with excitement and his cheeks flushed from the chase.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Lilia,” you blurted, voice trembling but determined, “I’m in love with you.”

Lilia blinked, his surprise evident for a split second before a soft smile curved his lips. “Ah, I see. Was it the spoons that gave me away, or my undeniable charm?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I’m serious!”

He chuckled, gently pulling your hands away to meet your eyes. “So am I. I’ve felt the same for quite some time.”

Your breath hitched. “Really?”

“Really,” he murmured, leaning closer. His lips brushed yours, soft and fleeting, but it sent your heart racing like you were being chased by a thousand cursed spoons.

He pulled back, his grin mischievous. “Now, let’s survive this first date, shall we?”

He grabbed your hand, pulling you from your hiding spot just as the spoons began circling back like a swarm of metallic bees.

“Run!”

You laughed despite yourself, sprinting hand-in-hand with Lilia as the chaos erupted around you once more.

And yet, as you glanced at him—his hair wild, his smile unshakable, his fingers warm around yours—you couldn’t help but think:

I want this forever.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia x reader #lilia x you #lilia twst #lilia vanrouge #lilia

334 notes · View notes

spartytoon · 1 day ago

Text

Pretty sure that's all a right wing psy-op to try to force compliance and conformity.

Look at it this way. Having hobbies is not a sign of neurodivergence. Sorry, it isn't. I know there's people on the other side of this who WANT it to be, but hobbies are normal healthy behavior. Can you take things too far? Sure. That's where we start talking about neurodivergence, but doing something purely for the pleasure of it? Nah. That's called being human. It's play. It's not that deep. But if enough people tell you it is you start to become afraid to do it. Reading = disassociating? I guess I shouldn't read as much, or only read in secret. Don't want anyone to think I'm weird. Right? Better not dress in bright colors 'cause people might think I'm gay. Better not talk about my favorite show 'cause people will think I'm a sicko. Better not do anything out of the ordinary.

But what's ordinary? Who decides? Well, the people telling you that hobbies are a sign of mental illness, that's who! And I'd bet dollars to donuts they want you to devote that energy to a very particular brand of Christianity.

You can read, but only if you read the bible. You can enjoy things, but only if they fit in with your gender (which they will assign you). But you can't enjoy things too much. The only thing you should devote yourself to THAT much is god.

See what I mean? Compliance and conformity.

Ignore them. The more therapy talk they throw into it, the more you should resist. They want to break you down, make you fall in line. Don't let them push you around.

We have GOT to stop pathologizing the joy out of life.

Saw someone claim that if you read a lot as a child, you were disassociating. No, you were reading. Because reading is fun.

"I have a problem with maladaptive daydreaming." It's only maladaptive if it negatively impacts your ability to function in the real world. Laughing at a joke you made in your head isn't doing that.

"You seem to do a lot if creative projects. What are you escaping?" I'm escaping this conversation.

Like what is the end goal? Because so far, all this has done has made it harder to enjoy my hobbies because you're turning a mindless process into something I gotta think about.

9K notes · View notes

nicholasgoodgirl · 1 day ago

Text

in the sheets- spencer reid

summary: sleeping with spencer and caring less about the consequences from your dad.

warnings: smut, no protection (wrap that shit), aaron is your dad, age gap (4yrs), multiple rounds, slight squirtung, aftercare

a/n: i wanna be that one writer who writes the reader as aarons daughter.

me and spencer were kissing from the front door all the way to my bedroom. stumbling on eachother while moving backwards towards the bed unable to move off of eachother.

i fall onto the bed; with him ontop of me. he kissed down my jaw to my collar bone leaving sloppy wet kisses.

i reach down, palming him through his pants, looking him straight in his eyes. i see the intense desire in his eyes making me smile.

"can i?" i ask messing with the waist band of his pants. "please" he begged.

i get up from the bed sitting spencer down then unzipping his pants. he helped me pull them down; pulling his boxers down as well.

i grab ahold of his now free cock letting my tounge swirl around the tip, my mouth taking more of him. he gasped at the feeling.

surprisingly he took ahold of my hair and forced my mouth down further on his dick, it caught me off gaurd making me cough a bit.

as i bobbed my head i tried my best to supress my gag reflex everytime he hit the back of my throat.

"k' thats enough. get up" he helped me off the ground and pulled me in for a kiss then made me lay on his bed; turning me over on my stomach.

"please baby take off your shirt" he said while taking off my pants already, then tossing them to the floor.

i took my shirt off and just threw it away from me. his shirt tossed in the same direction.

he runs his hands down my back then to my hips. he guides the head of his cock to my hole, teasing my entrance.

"can we just fuck for now. and not tease eachother" i propose the possibility. "sounds like a plan" i audibly gasp at him slipping into me, bottoming out.

spencer was thrusting into me so easily "god you feel so good" his words wobble out.

he increased his speed gripping onto my hips which i knew were gonna leave marks.

if i was being honset with my self i didn't think he had it in him, but i never fully doubted him.

he brings his hand down to my clit rubbing it in circles while also applying pressure. making me squirm under him. "mm- fuck m' gonna cum" my words muffling into the matress.

"thats fine" i didn't even have to look back to know he was smiling, just from the way he said it.

just one more rut and i felt myself get filled. he fucked his seed into me some more and i had climaxed.

i wanted more, i was yearning for more i wanted him to pull so many orgasms from me tonight. just looking at him made my eyes glaze with lust.

he pulled out and turned me over "can we go again?" i asked before he could say anything. a warm smile and a nodd is all i received before he penetrates me again.

he scans over my face as he pushes inside of me "you're really pretty y'know that?" he leans down to press a sentimental kiss on my lips.

"thanks baby, thats-.. sweet" the last word choking out when his tip brushes my cervix.

he puts his hands back at my waist for leverage to hit into me deeper. i pull at the blankets underneath me. i was still so sensitive from my last orgasm but my need for him was much more stronger.

"I can't really last-" his cock twitched then filled me up again "-that long looking at you" it was endearing really and i can't even be mad about it, but he was still hard.

it was like having sex with a horny teenage boy with much more stamina.

he lays down ontop of me not really putting his full weight on me, he pulls out and turns over; flopping onto his back.

i get on him, straddling his lap "can i ride you?" he just groaned a 'mhm' so i grabbed his hard cock and aligned it with my somehow slick entrance.

i sink down on him, leaning down to place kisses on spencers neck while rocking my hips back and forth. i sit up and use his shoulders to help me go up and down on him. at the certain angle his dick was hitting inside of me made pornographic moans leave my lips and also made me see stars. i was onto my second orgasm tonight.

"ahh.. shit" i laid ontop of spencer, rocking my hips a little; riding out my orgasm feeling pure ecstasy.

i was so tired but the room was thick with tension and lust. i couldn't physically get enough of spencer reid, as the minutes passed i found new things about him that turned me on. like right now, his heavy breathing and the light tracing that his hand is doing on my back.

"turn over. might be a while til' we can do this again" he turned me over; my face laying into the pillows. "can you breath?" he asked fisting some hair into a make shift ponytail. "yeah" he released my hair after the response

his tip dragged through my sensitive folds, he then fucks his tip inside me. my brows knit and my mouth falls open.

he slams inside of me "im goin' all the way" spencer warns.

i put my face into the pillow and let out a scream. I'd never been fucked like this ever. and i never had someone go multiple rounds in different positions for so long, it's been atleast 30 minutes.

his leverage this time was the headboard of his bed. he kept him somewhat steady

he slams into me repeatedly, his tip brusing my cervix. i clench around him, a whimper falling from his mouth it sounded like music to my ears I'd do anything to hear it again.

spencer was using everything in him to hit deeply inside me, it was making my mind go blank. all that was leaving my mouth was moans and his name as if thats all i remembered

"spencer!!" i screamed. i held onto the blankets for dear life as if it could help me take it.

"sorry.. sorry" he began slowing down "no dont stop!" i yelled quickly. so he reverted his speed and continued to go as fast as before.

i possibly could have squirted, i just know my own cum is leaking out of me while he's still going.

"jesus fuck-" he moans, pulling out with a slick pop then collapsing next to me.

i felt worn out, but like i could go just one more time but i highly doubt I'd even be awake for it

"im sorry about that" he sighs into my hair.

"don't apologize" is all i could utter in the moment.

i let my eyes rest and he tucked the hair that fallen in my face behind my ear. i opened my eyes to see him admiring my face "that was eventful wasn't it?" i smile nodding, i could feel butterflies in my stomach just from looking at him.

"lets get cleaned up" spencer sat up but i didn't sit up with him, i actually got under the blankets that were already a mess.

"m' tired" is all i said while snuggling into the balnkets "thats fair." he got out of bed and went to the bathroom with some clothes in hand. which im not quite sure when he got them.

i wake up to a damp haired spencer reid. and looking around it was still night. I've only fallen asleep for a few minutes "c'mon sweet girl you need to get clean"

he carried me into the bathroom and placed me in a bath. "im gonna go change the sheets and blankets. try cleaning yourself.. and please dont fall asleep in the tub. it's a major safety hazard" i nod along to what he's saying so he know im listening.

when he leaves i start getting all cleaned up. i could really get used to this princesses treatment, and the thing is we aren't even together and this is the best I've been treated by a man.

i got out the tub and dryed myself off. looking around i saw no clothes, so i wrapped the towel around me and walked out the bathroom.

"spencer!?" i yell out for him but there was no reply. i hear footsteps approaching the bedroom "yeah?" it was just spencer.

"i have no clothes" it's like a instant lightbulb went off in his head "i totally forgot" he went in his closet and came out with a black t-shirt.

"thanks" i walk back into the bathroom but before i could close the door spencer told me he ordered pizza and it should be here by time i was completely finished.

i put the shirt on and it was at my mid thigh so i think i was good for tonight.

i sit on the bed and get comfortable under the blankets of the replaced bedsheets. spencer comes in the room with a box of pizza and two bottled waters in the other hand.

"got the goods" he chuckled placing the food and drink on the bed. "thanks spence"

he climbed into bed next to me "so how are we telling your dad about this" i nearly choked on air.

"he's not finding out about this moment-" ,,no no of course not he'd kill me. i mean us. whatever this is." his words were kinda doubtful of what he thought we were.

"oh.. lets just wait it out and hope I'm not pregnant" i lightened the moment with reid laughing at my half joke.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader

216 notes · View notes

erinwantstowrite · 3 days ago

Text

bear with me here because i'm gonna ramble about something i've been thinking about for a while... and i'm not complaining, i'm just noticing

sometimes i think we've leaned so far into the vigilante side of the batfam that we miss out on what really makes their characters: detective work. we need more mysteries in their lives that don't lead up to some big bad "we already know who's doing it" or an "end of the world" or "yet again: this fucking guy." we need more stuff where spy movie music plays in the background and dumb adventures that don't lead up to some huge grand event with a big name villain. the shock factor stops being shocking or interesting in any capacity if we're like "Gah! the Joker! ... Again!" or whatever

does that even make sense? like "yeah sure they're blowing up a building again and there's hostages. oh look they're gonna poison the water supply." these aren't bad and that's not what i'm getting at because obviously this is a classic for comics. you need to have characters/antagonists that show up more than once and who can make a story better by being in it. and i did say to bear with me- that's because im tired. so like i hope im getting this across the right way? it's just that sometimes i don't wanna see a huge explosion, i want these motherfuckers solving a regular murder or a disappearance or regular corruption in a local office without it being tied to a grand reveal like "actually this person knows you as a long lost relative" or "they were at that circus can you guess which night they went?" that kind of thing? if you get me? like... more of the small time stuff makes the big stuff important, it makes it stand out more. at some point, the format gets repetitive even if you're switching up the villains. you can make these situations/mysteries still fun to solve for the characters and fun to read for the audience if you do it right

the concept of a detective dressed as a bat and having a sidekick in traffic light colors is inherently goofy as hell??? but that is what is so charming about it??? i think we have lost the balance between them being silly while also being intelligent with important conversations that criticize the world as we see it and teach lessons and can go over dark topics. nowadays it's always end of the world problems or just straight up the most gruesome true crime you can think of?? or they can ONLY do the dark stuff and the criticism without offering a balance of the good in the world. or we keep coming back to the FUCKING JOKER-

like yes they are vigilantes and with that comes a different level of their work, but their brand should be a mix between a black and white detective film that can get very nitty gritty and a classic spy movie, that kind of thing. at the end of the day, it's what makes them so different from the superheroes. that's what appeals to me.

seeing them in the big superhero groups is fun, don't get me wrong. it's always funny to see them standing next to people who are so powerful they never really fit in with anyone but each other, who chose to step up and use their powers for good. the Bats' specialty is Gotham and yet here they are stopping a god or whatever. and they do stop the god or whatever, all the while being an important leader and strategist to their teammates. they're important to have in these cases. but if there's a world ending event every time i pick something up, it's not as fun

the fact that they are so very human and not fantastical is why i like reading them. it's what makes the joke of people, even Gotham citizens, theorizing about them being cryptids, funny. they're fucking weird but that's because they're detectives. people who love to solve mysteries usually have a fatal flaw of curiosity. they forget the bounds between social interactions sometimes because they're used to working through problems or being intertwined with partners that understand them. but they're very much human. so human that it hurts them in many ways. and idk i've just been thinking about it lately and idk what point i'm trying to get across actually

it's just that in my eyes that's how it really is for Batman- a black and white movie narrated by a very serious man who took up a job to help people, one that has a deeper commentary on the world and viewed outwardly as pessimistic but actually has a deep hope for his city and who tries to help even the people who have wronged others. He's a stationary man in the belief that him being a constant can serve to soothe others and help them move forward. He stays in the middle of the path so he can tell everyone what is up ahead. he blends into the Gotham rainy night to serve justice but in a way that saves both the victim and the perpetrator. (the way he tucks a Robin into his cape is the same he does for Gotham with his mere presence.) and his background is actually so important to his story and yet people still somehow gloss over the lesson from it? he lost his parents because of a man who was on the opposite end of the spectrum to where he was in life. and yet he chose to help the people like the man that killed his parents. he could have done anything else with his power and money, but he instead is choosing to bring as many people up with him as he can. He's Mr. Serious that no one else can get a read on. and yet he walks into a room and he's already piecing together your life and what you're going through because he thinks it matters. he comforts people who have lost something or someone or themselves. I picture Batman and I don't picture a man trying to save the world, I picture a detective walking around a crime scene and trying to save at least one person every time he puts on the cape. and he put on the cape and became a vigilante because then he could go out of the bounds of what laws have been set up- and specifically, Gotham has other people in power who are corrupt, keeping the system that way. that's why Batman being a billionare and throwing himself into helping people at the risk of his own life is so important. he knows that if you are alive, you have something or someone to lose, no matter who you are. the dude is a bleeding heart but he doesn't know how to express it, in fear that if he gets too close, if he moves down the path with them, he'll be lost again

and then he's met with someone who should be a complete opposite, but isn't at all, because they're two sides of the same coin. his partner in crime, his son, a boy that is nothing like the black and white world that he sees. and that's the point in his life where he first sees that potentially getting lost is worth the risk. Robin is color and passion that needs guidance to move forward, but can not do so unless the stationary man learns to move with him. the kid is loud and reckless and you'd think he's from a different genre from the detective but they aren't so different, really. not when you look close enough. Dick grew up moving from place to place and seeing the world, knowing so many different people from different cultures. He's been learning to fly and jump and embrace the free fall his entire life. He's clever and he's sharp, and he thrives in the action and adventure. it's that perspective that compliments the stationary man. one is steady and the other pushes. he's the same genre but a different generation. and Batman introducing him to the way of life he chose for himself was another way he could save someone. because let's be real for a second? Dick would have gone down a very dark path had he not had Bruce, who understood, who saw not just himself in the kid but also saw who the kid has been his entire life until now. he saw Dick's parents, he saw the family he had in the circus, he saw the joy he had in what his family was doing. he saw the grief and the fire and the color that Dick's world was made of. because to Bruce, it always matters. Dick had to come to terms with Bruce's perspective to help anyone who they come across, to always give more chances, and it kept Dick from losing his color

what gets me is that the man who lives in the black and white world can actually see many different shades of gray (because black and white always needs the medium), whereas the boy in a world of color and light can get so focused on the bright that he can become single minded. and yet the boy sees a world of color and delves deeper into the lives of the peolle they come across and can be much more open minded, and the man in the black and white world sometimes forgets the shades of grey are right there. they are just like each other. they can exist without the other, but do they want to? because the black and white can be built up into the colored image, like the inking and shadows drawn on a comic book page before the colors are added in. they meet in the middle to complete each other. Bruce has been passing the story over to the next generation for a long, long time, even before his story was complete. and just like with the first Robin, it was so for every Robin afterwards. they each color in the lines differently, but that's what makes Robin so special, so unique. they are an art style that branches into their own life, but can not forget where they started: tucked into Batman's cape and the inky black of his world

and so detective work really frames their hunanity to me. the mysteries they get their hands on, the glimpses into the lives of Gotham citizens that they swore to protect, it's fascinating. it's what makes their story stand out compared to the people who can lift trucks or cast spells or run around the world in seconds. so yeah ig that's what i'm trying to say? that i want to read more of that? in both canon and fanon. cause even the small time villains we see can be like. AWFUL people and it takes out the fun of their gimmicks. and if it were any other day this would be a more coherent post but alas, it is not any other day

#tldr: we need more filler episodes #/hj but also /srs #erinwantstowrite #batfam #batfam fanfic #batman #batman comics #canon and fanon #in my eyes #bruce wayne #dick grayson #it's like that quote #“if you want to write about the impact if war you do not write from the government's perspective #you write about a little girl's shoe in the rubble of her home.“#the smallest stories can have the biggest impacts on us #gotham is so fucking weird and can be really silly #while also being so dark #and you can have the big stuff happen too #idk im just thinking today #this might not make complete sense #but it's things like that that make their rules make more sense #like no you don't come to gotham because you aren't one of us and you might misunderstand my people #you catch bad guys #we try to save them #also this did in fact give me and alighterwood an au idea #and im going fucking bonkers over that #so #yayyy

224 notes · View notes

henry7931 · 2 days ago

Text

Swap Short: Thanksgiving Edition

Not My Cousin Andrew’s Body!

Jamie:

I loath the thought of Thanksgiving because my family is so freaking weird! Every year we get together and all of us stay in my Uncle’s house for the night before Thanksgiving. And right before bed all of us are forced to play this dumb game. We call it, ‘guess who.’ (Which is nothing like the board game btw.)

Basically everyone randomly swaps bodies with someone else and none of us know who’s in who. We all have to try our best at pretending to know whoever’s body we’re in that year. And the last two who don’t get guessed correctly basically win bragging rights and like $500. I personally don’t want to participate but I don’t have much of a choice.

So when I arrived at my Uncle’s house, I caught up with my family. I felt the my nerves kick in every time someone mentioned the game.

I looked around the room, thinking to myself who would I be comfortable being for a day. Probably my Uncle Peter or maybe my little cousin Davie. I haven’t swapped with either of them yet. But I know one person who I’d hate to swap bodies with… my cousin Andrew. I find him repulsive!

He’s one of those far right guys who just has the most punchable face you’ve ever seen. He looks like he skips a bath every other day and I’m confident that he’s not a fan of gay people. I don’t know, I try to avoid him at all cost. Luckily I haven’t swapped with him yet and I’m hoping it stays that way.

By the time the night started to wrap up, I was so ready to go to bed. I say good night to everyone and laid in bed slowly falling asleep thinking about who I was going to be in the morning.

The Next Day…

As I wake up, it takes me a moment to get my bearings. It’s just so dark in the room but it doesn’t take me long to realize that I was no longer in the room I fell asleep in.

I stumble to find a lamp and turn it on. As I swing my new borrowed legs out of bed. I stared down at the feet that I now control.

I don’t even get up quickly, my mind races eliminating who I could possibly be until i conform who’s stubby toes I’m looking at. Andrews.

“SHITTTT FUCKKK!!! WHHHYYYYYY!!!!”

I stand up feeling Andrew’s heavier frame move and almost want to cry. I look the in mirror confirming what I already knew.

“Well this fucking sucks.”

I stare at his reflection taking it all in when I realize something else. I’m hard as a rock right now.

The bulge underneath his pjs was begging for my attention. And I didn’t want anything to do with it.

I try to ignore it but it’s difficult. His body is just soo horny!

I walk myself through the logistics and my best conclusion was to just close my eyes and pretend I’m in my body.

So I lay back in bed and pull off the pajama bottoms. And the smell of ball sweat fills my nostrils.

My eyes are still closed and I reach down to touch his dick. As his fingers embrace his dick, I feel a rush come over me.

His dick… it’s so sensitive especially his cockhead.

I trace his fingers along his balls and feel so turned on. And it’s like I don’t even have pretend anymore that I’m still myself. Even in my cousins body, it’s kinda hot jerking off with someone else’s dick.

I pump faster and faster… I start to moan. I open my eyes and stare down at my cousin’s junk.

I bring his fingers up and sniff them… they smell like a jockstrap. Who knows the last time he’s washed his dick.

I pump faster and faster…

And then the freaking door swings open!

“What the fuck!”

It’s my body standing at the door. I thought about stopping but I’m too deep into it.

He slams the door shut and runs over.

“Jamie! What the hell dude!!! Stop playing with my dick in front of me.”

“I… can’t …stop! Your body… it’s too…. Horny!!”

“Shit! Here,” he says pulling my fingers off of his dick.

Andrew wraps his fingers around it and starts working it in a way that feels a million times better.

I can’t handle it! I end up cumming everywhere and he’s now soaked in it.

“Are you kidding me??? God of course this is what happens when I swap with my gay cousin!”

“Oh come on!! It’s your body, you think I wanted to do that?”

“Maybe! I don’t know, you’re the one who likes dick!”

“Well it looks like you enjoyed the show too!”

Andrew looks down and he’s now rocking a boner. His face turns red.

“Did you enjoy jerking yourself off?,” I say to him.

He looks away and groans. “Yeah… it was kinda hot.”

“Yeah well I have to say it was hot watching my body doing the work as well. You definitely know your way with your dick”

I look at my boner and get an idea.

I grab Andrew and tug him into bed.

“What are you doing?”

“A favor.”

I pull off the pair of shorts I had on last night and my dick comes flying out.

“Wait! Are you about to?”

I grab my dick and force it down Andrew’s throat.

“Holy shit!” he screams out.

I put in the work and feel him running my hands over his body.

I run my fingers down my balls to my taint and then my hole. He squirms and lets out a little noise as I insert his digits into my hole. He tries to complain until he realizes just how good it feels.

I then pull back and decided to try something a little more freaky.

I laugh to myself thinking about how much of a mind fuck this has to be for my conservative cousin. I take both of his feet and lick them.

“Fuckkkk why is that so hot to watch,” he says to me.

“Oh you like watching me lick your feet? What if I did this…”

I wrap his toes around my dick and start pumping. He’s moaning so loud now and ends up exploding all over them.

And reaches for one of his feet and rubs the cum covered foot on my face.

“Oh my god, that was… that was amazing…” he says out of breath.

I grin at him and say, “ I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“But don’t get any ideas! I’m not gay!!”

“Are you sure? Because you just rubbed your cum covered foot all over.”

He gets agitated and says, “YEAH WELL! ITS ONLY BECAUSE IM IN YOUR GAY ASS BODY!”

I laugh and say , “then why am I not attracted to girls then Andrew?”

“Well… that’s a good point.”

“So how about you whip off my face and go get ready for the day cuz.”

Andrew grabs my shorts and throws them on.

“Don’t forget my face!”

He turns around and grabs a rag. He whips it and throws it on the ground. I giggle loudly as he storms out of the room slamming the door.

“Shit, that almost made this worth it!,” I say laying back in his naked body.

The rest of the day was fun. Mainly because I got to fuck with Andrew the entire time and he couldn’t say shit!

Andrew sat across from me and I pulled off his shoes. And then just one sock.

I sit back in the chair crossing my arms and stared at him while wiggling his toes.

Andrew gazes at them for a minute before standing up and storming out again.

As the day goes on, I watched my family trying there hardest to put up a front for everyone. My little cousin Davie was the first one out, ironically he swapped bodies with my uncle Peter.

He was pretty easy since he kept talking about how cool it was being an adult. Then it was my dad and my grandpa, then my aunt and her son… soon it came down to only four of us.

None of us were aloud to out one another. Now it’s up to the rest of the family to guess. You have my brother Ashton and my other Uncle Jessie. And then me and Andrew.

But it was one wrong guess that lead me to a victory. ✌️ Yep! I won the game (and so did Andrew technically).

We both got ushered to the front and they asked us to say a few words.

I speak up and say, “Well, I’m happy I swapped with Andrew this year. I feel like we got to know each other better and can’t say we’ve ever been closer. Is that right Andrew?” I say wrapping his strong arm around him.

“Yeah… I agree, we’re so much closer now.”

“Well good job guys!,” I says Uncle Pete in Davie body.

I grin and discreetly grab one of my butt cheeks which causes Andrew to blush.

I hear him say under his breath, “I hate you.”

“Yeah well, you got a few more hours and then we get to do this again next year,” I say softly back to him.

“Great…”

We all head to the dinner table and I purposely sit across from Andrew.

“So who’s ready for some turkey?”

#body swap #male body swap

156 notes · View notes

elfieafterdark · 1 day ago

Text

I have a little teeny tiny cheeky theory about this moment. So if you'll indulge me, I shall share it.

I think John Gaius, in this moment, is lying to Harrow.

Let's think about this from a factual standpoint. John is the most powerful necromancer in the entire fucking universe, by a country damn mile.

He is powered by at least 5 billion souls.

You can blow him up into a fine mist and he will reassemble.

He fears not death nor Resurrection Beast. He remotely killed everyone, and resurrected everything and everyone afterward.

And far more compelling than any one thing I could tell you about John, is the fact that despite him saying this at the end of GTN, by the end of HTN, Harrow has proven him wrong.

He tells her it's impossible to remove Gideon. It is not. It is categorically, empirically not. Because they are separated. Gideon is in one body and Harrow is in another. You could argue semantics over how much of those souls are the originals and whether anyone has lost a piece of themselves sure.

Simple fact remains, Gideon and Harrow are separated. He lied to Harrow here. And that's not even the most interesting or sinister part of this interaction I think.

I think it's far more horrifying to examine why John Gaius lied to this heartbroken 17-year-old girl who was begging him, the man she views as God, to bring back the one good thing in her life.

The entire point of the Canaan House Incident was to create new lyctors. Because John's been losing them at an alarming rate. For being nearly invincible super powerful, infinitely energetic necromancers, the lyctors sure have a habit of dying a lot.

He needs new ones. I'm sure he was hoping to get eight new ones in the best circumstance. Instead he finds that he is down one, and only two of the adepts managed to succeed.

The rest of the house nobility were murdered by his own.

Ladies and gentlemen, he lied to Harrow because he needed Harrow. He could very well have separated Gideon, of that I have no doubt. I doubt many things about John Gaius, but I do not doubt his ability to separate souls. Maybe he's telling the truth? I don't think so.

He's lying to manipulate her. To fit his selfish ends, cuz I don't think anyone will deny that John Gaius is extremely selfish.

We know he lied to all of his bestest resurrected friends, solely because he didn't want them being like him? It's actually not clear why. But if he was willing to lie to his friends, then why not some random scrawny girl he's never seen before?

Just some random ramblings.

#gideon the ninth #gtn #gideon the ninth spoilers #gtn spoilers #the locked tomb #the locked tomb spoilers #tlt spoilers #harrow the ninth #john gaius #same bestie #everyone hates him #if someone doesn't hate him #you should be suspicious of them

6K notes · View notes

bg3daydream · 3 days ago

Text

Breakfast (Lucanis x Rook fanfiction)

Lucanis x Female Rook one-shot.

Summary: Lucanis makes breakfast for Rook after they spend the nigth together once she's back from the Fade-prison, relieved to have her back but still worried about her. Short (2285 words) and sweet.

Lucanis woke up feeling rested for the first time in…he didn’t even know how long. That he'd been sleeping in Rook’s arms sure was the reason for it.

They were scrunched together on the couch in Rook’s room, with barely room to move, but for Lucanis it was perfect, with his head pillowed on Rook’s chest and her arms around him. Even Spite seemed to have calmed down, he hadn’t annoyed him once. His only regret was not having slept like that before that night, the distance he’d made himself keep for reasons that seemed important once but not anymore.

He was all too aware of how close he’d been to losing Rook. Since she’d been trapped in the Fade, Lucanis had been consumed not only by fear but also by guilt and regret. He’d let it happen, he hadn’t been quick enough, smart enough, and Rook had been taken from him. She had needed him and he had failed again.

He’d been searching non-stop for a way to get her back, even Spite had been agitated, driving him crazy, and he knew he had to be grateful for the team that they’d found a way to get Rook back.

After that, he’d known there was no way he’d let his fears and insecurities keep him from being truly Rook’s any longer. He’d kill the gods, the blight itself, anything that threatened Rook’s again, no matter what, he wouldn't fail her again, and he wouldn’t deny himself the comfort of her arms any longer.

Mindful not to wake her, Lucanis pulled back from Rook’s chest. She was still fast asleep, and Lucanis wondered if she’d slept at all those weeks she’d been trapped in the Fade, if she’d even needed it.

She didn’t seem more tired than usual, neither did she seem hurt, but Rook hadn’t really elaborated on what had happened to her, and Lucanis hadn’t pushed her to tell him. She seemed more worried about what’d been happening while she was gone and how to fix it, and Lucanis knew it was important, but he wished Rook looked out for herself more. If she didn’t, then he’d be the one to watch over her and care for her.

Lucanis brushed his knuckles ever so softly over Rook’s cheek. He didn’t feel there was much he could offer her, besides his knives and his skills as an assassin, in which he felt he’d been failing abysmally.

It seemed Rook was going to sleep longer, and so, Lucanis decided to get up and get her breakfast. Feeding her was, at least, one thing he could do for Rook without failing her.

He carefully covered Rook with a blanket, pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, and got dressed quickly.

Walking out of the room and down the stairs, Lucanis found Emmrich already awake, sitting down on the armchair next to the coffee table, doing research, with a cup of steaming tea in front of him, while Manfred hovered near. Emmrich looked up from his papers to give Lucanis a tired smile.

“Good morning. How is she?” He asked as he glanced upstairs.

Lucanis sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know. Not bad I think, but she hasn’t told me much of what happened to her. She wants to focus on what we have to do now.”

“Understandable so,” Emmrich conceded. “I know everything we lost, everyone…and everything we have to fight now. But we got Rook back, enjoy that.”

“I plan to. Thank you, Emmrich.” Lucanis was aware of how, without the Fade expertise of Emmrich, he probably couldn’t have gotten Rock back to him.

Emmrich nodded graciously and went back to his papers.

“Manfred,” Lucanis addressed the skeleton, who hissed a yes. “If you see Rook getting up, you come running to find me before she can”

“Yes!”

Once in the kitchen, Lucanis tried to decide on what to do for breakfast. He didn’t want it to be something overly complicated or that would take too long, afraid that Rook might wake up before he was finished and find herself alone.

Finally, he settled for orlesian pancakes.

The kitchen felt cold and abandoned. Lucanis had been in no mood for cooking during the last couple of weeks, his mind was desperately looking for ways to bring Rook back, when he was not mourning their potential loss and blaming himself, and having to deal with Spite’s own commentary and franticness.

Trying to ignore the nagging thoughts of their missing friends, everything that had gone wrong and could get worse soon, and the still lingering fear of losing Rook, Lucanis focused on making breakfast and on the thought of a sleeping Rook, back to him.

He cooked swiftly, and once everything was ready, he placed several servings on a trail and walked out of the kitchen and back to the main building.

Emmrich was still in the armchair, studying the papers, while Manfred stood as a lookout on the staircase, watching the door of Rook’s room. When he saw Lucanis, he hissed and did a thumb-up, and Lucanis couldn’t help his smile.

“Thank you, Manfred,” Lucanis said while placing a cup of coffee and a plate of pancakes on the table in front of Emmrich.

“Oh, thank you Lucanis,” Emmrich smiled at him over his papers. “This was most kind.”

Lucanis shrugged and made his way back to Rook’s room. She was still asleep. Lucanis placed the tray with the pancakes and coffee on the table and knelt down next to the couch, looking at Rook. He reached to trail his fingers down her cheek, ever so softly.

“Doesn’t. Wake,” Spite said, unhelpful.

“She needs rest,” Lucanis muttered, trying not to let Spite’s agitation get to him.

“She. Is not. Waking up,” Spite insisted.

Lucanis never thought the demon could care for anyone, but there they were. Still, he didn’t need Spite putting more fears inside his mind and going frantic again, it wouldn’t help anyone.

“Rook’s tired, she’ll wake up when she’s rested enough,” he tried again, although Lucanis wasn’t very sure if he was convincing himself or the demon. “Go play with Manfred.”

“Pff.” Spite brisked. “He. Thinks. He Is. A mage. Now,” the demon pretty much ranted. “He. Thinks. He. Is. Better.”

“I doubt it,” Lucanis answered, but truly, what did he know…he just hoped Manfred didn’t decide to try and teach Spite magic now. “Go with Manfred or shut it and let Rook sleep.”

Spite didn’t say anything else, but Lucanis could feel his unhappiness.

He watched Rook’s face, caressing her cheek ever so gently again, trying not to entertain Spite’s thoughts of her not waking. There was no reason for that, she was just tired, even if she was in the Fade in her sleep, she was not trapped there any longer, it was just normal dreaming…right?

Lucanis’ heart had begun beating faster, Spite’s unease was growing too, and so he tried to stop that train of thought. Rook was back, she was alright, she was just resting…but if she didn’t wake up by herself soon, he’d wake her.

Moving even closer, Lucanis leaned over Rook, still kneeling on the floor, until he could rest his head over her chest. He closed his eyes, listening to her heartbeat, feeling her chest rising and falling as she breathed, and he tried not to let worry and overthinking take hold of his mind.

Eventually, Lucanis felt the change in her breathing as she began to wake up, and relief washed over him. He pushed back to look at her as Rook’s eyes opened, and she gave him a drowsy smile that made something in his stomach flutter and twirl. She was there, she was awake, she was fine…and she was smiling at him, her sleep-lidded eyes looking at him so lovingly that it was hard to believe she was looking at him.

“Hey….” Rook reached to cup his face and Lucanis leaned into her touch. Her smile turned into a frown when she noticed he was on the floor. “Did I kick you off the couch? Shit, I’m sorry.”

“No, you didn’t,” Lucanis rushed to explain. “I was up already. I made you breakfast.”

There it was again, that soft smile and that love in her eyes, making Lucanis’ heart skip a beat. “Of course you did.”

Rook’s voice was quiet, content, while her hand cupping his face caressed his cheek, and Lucanis turned his head to kiss her palm. Rook’s smile grew wider at that and she leaned to press a soft kiss to his lips. It was gentle, chaste, yet it made Lucanis feel like he might melt.

Rook pulled back, reaching to take her shirt that somehow had ended up hanging from the back of the couch, and she put it on. Then, she reached as if to take her cup of coffee, but Lucanis was already handing it to her.

“Thanks,” she smiled again and reached to take his hand. “Come here.”

Lookanis got up from the floor and sat down on the couch next to Rook. Ignoring his own cup of coffee, he looked at her as she contently sipped hers while she looked at the fishes swimming in that odd aquarium. Lucanis had felt uneasy about that part of Rook’s room before, it reminded him of the Ossuary, but it didn’t anymore, not with Rook there next to him.

Rook caught him staring at her and gave him a small smile, leaning to kiss the side of his head. “I’m fine,” she reassured him.

Lucanis wasn’t sure if it was true, but he didn’t want to push her. She’d be fine, though, he’d make sure of it.

Rook leaned to place the cup back on the tray and cut a piece of the pancakes, bringing it to her mouth. She closed her eyes with a delighted hum and Lucanis felt something in his belly stir at it.

“This is so good,” she said as she took another bite.

“I’m glad.” Lucanis was pretty confident in his cooking skills, more than in his assassin skills right now, but it was nice to have confirmation that Rook was enjoying her breakfast.

Rook looked at him over her shoulder. “Did you have something besides coffee?” she didn’t let him answer. “Of course you didn’t.”

She cut the rest of the pancakes in small, bite-size pieces, and leaned back on the sofa again, taking plate and fork with her. “Here.” She reached the fork with one of the pancake pieces towards Lucanis.

“It’s your breakfast.”

“It’s enough for us both and more…come on,” Rook insisted and Lucanis gave in, taking the bite that she was offering.

Lucanis wondered if it should have felt ridiculous, letting someone feed him pancakes, but it didn’t, he just felt content, loved even. He wondered when was the last time he’d felt like that, or if he’d even felt like that at all before.

He let Rook feed him another couple of bites before nudging her and reminding her to eat herself, and so she dug into the pancakes with appetite. “Seriously, Lucanis, these are so good,” she said between bites and he couldn’t stop how pleased it made him feel.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been hungry, maybe even starving. How hadn’t he thought of feeding her sooner, he shouldn’t have fallen asleep last night without making sure she was fed, no matter how warm and comfortable her arms had felt.

“Did you eat anything while you were…away?” Lucanis found himself asking.

He wasn’t sure how the Fade worked, how she could have survived those weeks without eating anything, if maybe she didn’t need it while in the Fade…

Rook shook her head and leaned over to place the plate of pancakes, with barely anything left, on the table, taking the cup of coffee instead and leaning back on the couch again with a sigh.

“I know it was weeks for you here but…for me…I don’t know,” she trailed off. “I don’t know how it works, but it felt…I don’t even know…eternal but static at the same time…” Rook shuddered and Lucanis leaned to place an arm around her, regretting to have asked. “I don’t want to think about it now.”

“Of course,” he whispered, pulling her close.

His wings popped out without him meaning to, wrapping around them. Lucanis’d be embarrassed about his lack of control of the wings sometimes, if it weren’t because Rook seemed to like them. He had to wonder if Taash was right when they told him he should get out the wings when he was with Rook, that she’d like it.

“Good morning, Spite,” Rook said, smiling.

“Rook,” the demon greeted, but Lucanis was thankful he didn’t try to control him, seeming content just being acknowledged.

Rook took another sip of the coffee and then offered the cup to Lucanis. He was about to refuse, that was her coffee, he had a cup for himself, but she was looking at him with that soft smile, those caring, loving eyes, in a way that made him feel as if his heart was growing in size, and he couldn’t refuse her, taking a sip of the coffee before giving her the cup back.

Rook leaned against him with a content sigh and Lucanis kissed the side of her head.

There were gods to kill, people to help, a world to save, friends to avenge, they had to get at it soon but perhaps, perhaps it all could wait just a bit longer.

Perhaps they could stay like that, Lucanis’ arm and wings enveloping Rook, basking in each other, for a little bit, if only until they finished their coffee.

NA:

Both me and my Rook have fallen in love with this gentle, caring assassin and we want to hold him and protect him, but sometimes Rook needs to be taken care of too.

I think I want to write more for them.

If you liked the fic, please let me know in a comment, and as always, reblogs are more than welcome.

Excuse my English, it’s not my first language.

#lucanis dellamorte #lucanis dellamorte fanfiction #lucanis fanfiction #rookanis #rookanis fanfiction #lucanis x rook #lucanis x rook fanfiction #rook x lucanis #rook x lucanis fanfiction #protective Lucanis Dellamorte #short and sweet #emotional hurt/comfort and just comfort/fluff

162 notes · View notes

jayswifeshh · 2 days ago

Text

all talk | p.js

there has always been a simmering tension between you and jay ever since you joined their friend group, hidden beneath playful banter and teasing remarks. but things changed when what started as a carefree night out with your seven friends quickly spiraled into something far more unexpected. between the music, the drinks, and the charged glances, the playful teasing shifts into something much more intense.

《 park¡jongseong x female¡reader

《 content - smut, a little fluff, teasing, protected sex, praise kink, drunk sex, jealously, oral, self-pleasure(jay), the reader isn't submissive and she's low-key a freak. probably missed a lot but it's my first time guys i'm so sorry!

if you're into a quick smut story this probably isn't for you. got carried away and it ended up being way longer than expected (i just like to yap a lot sry again babes)

《 wc - 9k

heesung and jake play a big role in this lol. jungwon's mentioned too just at the very end.

___________________________________________

you and jay… that was always a topic of confusion—for others, and sometimes even for yourselves.

this entire, incredibly eventful chapter of your life began when you met enhypen during one of your calvin klein photoshoots. it was a collaboration you hadn’t expected, and yet everything about it felt oddly seamless.

from the moment you met the group of boys, it felt as though you’d known them forever. they were warm, funny, and easy to talk to—qualities that made them stand out, especially since most of your friendships had been with girls.

what really caught you off guard was how quickly you became a part of their circle. suddenly, you were being invited to hangouts every other week when your schedules allowed, and you didn’t mind one bit.

all seven of them welcomed you with open arms, making you feel at ease in a way that was new and unexpected. it was strange to think about because kindness should be the standard, but your past experiences with men had left you guarded. this shift in dynamic, though refreshing, often felt too good to be true.

your relationship with each one of them was unique in its own way, but you seemed to connect best with one in particular— park jongseong.

your bond with jay was unlike anything you shared with the rest. from your very first exchange, there was an easy flirtation between the two of you that only grew stronger over time. the others teased you both relentlessly, saying how perfect you were for each other and insisting you should stop pretending and just make it official.

you and jay, however, would always dismiss their comments, laughing it off and insisting that you were just joking around. of course, the others never believed you, carrying on with their relentless teasing.

still, it never fazed you or jay. maybe it was because, deep down, the idea didn’t seem all that bad? you never stopped to analyze it, though. the truth was, you never had a “what are we?” conversation, and you weren’t exactly in a rush to have one either. you weren’t actively looking for love, and having a flirtatious dynamic with a man sculpted like a greek god certainly added some much-needed excitement to your life. who could complain? it was just innocent fun—you never crossed any boundaries or did anything beyond playful banter.

little did you know, though, that someday words would turn into actions.

the night everything changed began with a casual invitation. the guys were in new york city for a concert and decided to go clubbing in their free time. they wanted you to join.

the place they chose was nothing short of extravagant—a blend of a nightclub and bar, with a formal dress code and an exclusive guest list. it was an entirely new experience, especially since most of your outings with them were more casual: dinners, movie nights, or just hanging out at someone’s place.

the chance to dress up, drink, and let loose was too tempting to pass up. without a second thought, you said yes, not knowing that this night would mark a turning point in your relationship with jay.

after stepping into the upscale club, the eight of you naturally dispersed. some rushed off to the bar, others disappeared into the pulsing crowd, lost in the music and lights. a few mingled effortlessly with strangers, their laughter blending into the vibrant hum of the room.

you stayed back with jay, jake, and heesung, settling into a plush, semi-private corner on an l-shaped couch. the spot felt perfect—close enough to feel the energy of the club but far enough to offer a sense of privacy. from where you sat, you could watch the sea of bodies moving under the strobe lights, yet here, the music was muffled just enough to allow for easy conversation.

a sleek glass table in front of you was already cluttered with expensive liquor bottles, mixers, and half-finished drinks. you sat in the middle, jay on your left, so close that his knee brushed yours every time he adjusted his position. heesung occupied the far side, and jake sprawled casually on your right, his arm draped over the backrest.

the conversation was lively, flowing effortlessly from deep, reflective topics to ridiculous, out-of-pocket jokes that had all of you clutching your sides with laughter. the alcohol helped, loosening your words and deepening your bond as time slipped away.

it didn’t take long for you to feel the telltale signs of drunkenness. your cheeks felt warm, the edges of the room seemed softer, and your words occasionally slurred together. the guys weren’t far behind, their flushed faces and increasingly playful banter a clear indication of how much they’d had to drink.

but through the haze, you couldn’t help but notice jay. he’d always been charming and tactile, but tonight, something about him felt different—intensely focused. every so often, his hand would graze your bare leg, the touch fleeting but electric. occasionally, he’d reach out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering near your cheek in a way that made your breath hitch.

and then there were his hands—always finding ways to touch yours. jay had a habit of playing with your fingers, something you’d grown used to, but tonight, it felt more deliberate. his thumb traced slow, lazy circles on your skin, his touch so gentle it sent shivers up your spine.

his gaze, though, was what undid you. whenever his dark eyes locked with yours, it felt like the rest of the world faded away. there was an intensity to the way he looked at you tonight, as if he was trying to tell you something without saying a word. it made your heart race in a way you couldn’t quite control, and the alcohol only amplified your awareness of him.

jake and heesung weren’t blind to what was happening. every time jay’s hand lingered a little too long or his gaze softened when he looked at you, the two of them would exchange amused glances. jake smirked openly, while heesung occasionally raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips twitching as if he was holding back laughter.

you noticed their silent teasing, of course, but jay seemed entirely unfazed. his focus stayed on you, as if the rest of the room didn’t exist.

as much as you tried to brush it off, blaming your racing thoughts on the alcohol, you couldn’t ignore the effect he was having on you. jay looked absolutely stunning tonight. his dark hair framed his face perfectly, soft strands falling effortlessly across his forehead. his black sweater clung to him just right, dipping low enough to reveal the sharp lines of his collarbones, while his tailored dress pants fit him like a dream. every detail about him seemed designed to make you lose your composure.

the night continued like this, the four of you huddled together while the others flitted in and out. occasionally, one of the members would stop by to join in on the conversation, only to dash off when a song they couldn’t resist came on. the corner you’d claimed felt like its own little world, insulated from the chaos of the club.

at one point, jay excused himself to the bathroom. you watched him go, your gaze lingering longer than you intended. the absence of his presence was immediate, like a sudden chill. the warmth of his touch, the weight of his attention, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you—it all left you reeling.

jake chuckled beside you, breaking your train of thought. “you good?” he teased, raising his glass in a toast. heesung just smirked knowingly, leaning back into the couch. to which you nonchalantly stated you're okay.

you shook your head, brushing off the slight unease from jay leaving. you leaned back into the cushions, letting the warm buzz of alcohol dull your thoughts. it wasn’t a big deal, you told yourself—he probably just needed a moment. the energy of the club, the thrum of the music, and the laughter from jake and heesung were enough to distract you. for now, the thought of jay and his lingering touches faded into the background.

but as the conversation flowed, jake leaned closer, his smirk catching your attention. “so,” he began, dragging the word out in a way that immediately put you on edge, “you know jay likes you, right?”

heesung, lounging comfortably, nodded with a sly grin. “oh, for sure. it’s not even subtle at this point. the guy can’t keep his hands off you.”

you froze for a second before letting out a laugh, shaking your head as you waved them off. “oh, come on. jay’s always like that—he’s just naturally touchy. it’s not out of the ordinary.”

jake raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “sure, but he doesn’t act like that with anyone else. have you seen him with us? the guy barely even gives us a pat on the back, let alone all the…” he mimicked brushing imaginary hair behind his ear, earning a snicker from heesung.

“exactly,” heesung added, crossing his arms. “jay’s different with you. it’s written all over his face. you’re the only one he looks at like that.”

rolling your eyes, you chuckled, trying to ignore the way their words made your heart skip. “you’re both drunk. he's flirty all the time—it’s just jay being jay.” you shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “he probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.”

the two exchanged another look, one of those silent conversations that only close friends could have. “okay,” jake said, dragging the word out again as if to humor you. “whatever you say.”

heesung smirked, leaning back into the couch. “denial is a river in egypt,” he muttered, earning a laugh from jake.

“and you two are delusional,” you shot back playfully, though the warmth creeping up your neck betrayed your confidence. you quickly changed the topic, refusing to let their words linger, but deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder if they might be right.

heesung, however, wasn’t done. he leaned in dramatically, his voice lowering as if he was revealing some deep, dark secret. “you know, i don’t know why you’re pretending to be all innocent here.” he shot you a mischievous grin. “you’re just as flirty as jay—if not worse.”

before you could protest, he straightened up, then leaned forward again, dramatically acting out what he claimed was your behavior. “oh my god, jay,” he said in a mocking voice, fluttering his eyelashes. “you look so good tonight. i can’t stop looking at you.” he threw in a hair flip for good measure, causing you to laugh despite him making fun of you.

you gaped at him. “i do not do that!”

he grinned wider, clearly enjoying the playful torment. “sure you don’t,” he teased, pretending to sip from an invisible drink. “and then you throw in some accidental touches here and there, just like jay. like this” he reached over and lightly brushed your arm, his touch exaggerated and playful.

“stop!” you laughed, swatting his hand away. “you’re ridiculous, heesung!”

jake chuckled beside you, clearly enjoying the teasing. “you can’t deny it. you’re just as bad, if not more obvious, than jay.”

you crossed your arms and tried to hold your ground, but the heat in your face betrayed you. “whatever, you two are crazy.” you leaned back, trying to mask your flustered state, but deep down, a part of you knew they were right.

silence filled the air when you thought...wait... let’s make this fun. you leaned in closer, deciding it was your turn to stir things up.

“so, who’s the better flirt?” you asked, your voice dripping with playful confidence as you shot them a daring smirk.

heesung didn’t miss a beat. “you, obviously,” he replied with a matching grin, his quick answer making you sit a little taller.

you were about to feign modesty when jake jumped in, completely unfiltered. “oh, that’s not even a debate. you’re smooth, like dangerously smooth. it’s effortless—sensual, even. jay, though? he looks like a mix of a horny teenager and some creepy old dude who’s trying way too hard.”

you couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped, your stomach aching as heesung nodded in agreement, both boys delighting in tearing down jay’s flirting game.

“so, you’d fall for it?” you pressed, leaning into the teasing, letting your voice drop just enough to make them squirm.

their reaction was immediate—eyes wide, sharing a glance, before jake cleared his throat awkwardly. “i mean… yeah. probably any guy would… shit even girls,” he admitted, his voice quieter now.

you turned to heesung, raising an eyebrow as if to ask, well? he scratched the back of his neck, looking at everything but you. “yeah, same,” he mumbled. then, with a nervous chuckle, he added, “but don’t let jay hear that. he’d kill us, and honestly? i’d rather not go out like that.”

you giggled at their flustered answers, but you weren’t done just yet. a wicked thought crossed your mind. you leaned back against the couch, sighing dramatically, letting your body arch slightly, chest subtly pushing forward.

oh, so now they go quiet, huh? you thought to yourself, biting back a smirk.

you shifted back into your normal position, glancing at the two of them. for the first time tonight, they weren’t shooting off quick remarks or teasing you back. instead, they were trying way too hard to act like they were fascinated by the crowd around them, clearly avoiding letting their eyes wander to how your dress hugged your figure just right.

“you guys are so boring,” you teased, breaking the silence with a pout. “maybe i should test my charm with you two to see if it really works,” you added, voice low and dripping with suggestion.

the way they stiffened was almost comical. they exchanged panicked glances, their nervous laughter giving them away immediately. jake cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice. “nope, nope, nope. you’re jay’s future wife. we can’t be a part of this madness,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender.

you huffed dramatically, pretending to give in. “fine, i guess you’re right.” a pause hung in the air before you slyly added, “besides, i don’t think you could keep up with me anyway.”

jake’s jaw dropped, his expression a mix of offense and disbelief. “okay, now that was just uncalled for,” he protested, pointing a finger at you like he was scolding you.

you leaned in closer, locking eyes with him, your voice soft yet teasing. “you sure about that?”

“as if jay can,” he scoffed, laughing at his own joke. “but yeah, i’m sure. besides, like i said, you’re practically the future mother of his kids, and—”

“okay, that’s enough,” you cut him off quickly, unable to handle the forwardness of his words. “can we please stop talking about jay for one sec—”

heesung interrupted, grinning like he’d just uncovered some big secret. “guys, i think jay’s busy with his other future wife.”

you and jake froze, immediately following heesung’s gaze. sure enough, jay was leaning casually against a wall, unfazed as a girl who was far too enthusiastic leaned in closer, laughing and touching his arm a little too much for your liking.

“nah,” jake laughed, breaking the tension, “he looks mad uncomfortable"

“damn though, how does he get all the girls while i stay bitchless?” heesung muttered, still focused on jay and the overly eager girl practically draping herself over him.

jake chuckled, but you couldn’t resist poking at heesung. “i just gave you the opportunity of a lifetime, hee,” you teased, referring to your earlier playful flirting, as heesung remained captivated by the unfolding scene of jay and the mystery girl.

he finally tore his gaze away, smirking mischievously. “if jay gave me the green light, i wouldn’t even hesitate, gorgeous,” he shot back smoothly, his words bold and his tone dripping with confidence. he added a wink for good measure, which only made you laugh.

“heesung!” you exclaimed, your voice half-scolding, half-amused.

jake groaned, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “seriously, man? and no, jay would never allow it. neither would i.”

“a guy can dream, can’t he?” heesung shrugged nonchalantly, but the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips made it clear he wasn’t entirely serious. when he noticed the way you and jake were looking at him, though, he quickly backtracked. “what? come on, guys, i’m joking!”

your gaze shifted back to jay, who was still caught in the same uncomfortable interaction. the girl was leaning far too close, her giggles annoyingly loud, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of jealousy in your chest. not that you’d ever admit it to them. instead, you waved it off casually.

“well, hope he has fun with her,” you said breezily, already trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. you weren’t about to let them notice the little twinge of irritation creeping in. besides, comparing his body language with you and her, jay truly was different with you. his smiles, his touches, his attention—it all felt more genuine when it was directed your way. that alone was enough to ease your nerves.

“are you crazy? go save your man!” jake urged, his voice insistent.

“he’ll be fine,” you replied, brushing it off with a casual shrug, though the sight of the girl inching closer made your stomach twist just a bit more.

a pause hung between you before heesung spoke up, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “you know... i heard from a very reliable source that jay likes it when a girl gets jealous...”

you raised an eyebrow, the skepticism clear on your face. “oh, does he now?”. it sounded out of character for jay. he was mature and grounded, the type of guy who would probably find possessiveness off-putting, or so you thought.

“seriously,” jake chimed in, nodding earnestly. “he thinks it’s hot when a girl gets territorial over him. like, it’s his thing or something.”

you hummed thoughtfully, swirling your drink. their sudden insistence felt suspicious, but you couldn’t deny the idea intrigued you.

“go,” heesung urged, motioning for you to stand up. his expression was equally playful and determined.

you sighed dramatically, leaning back against the couch as though the mere suggestion exhausted you. “what if i scare my number one hoe away?” you joked, your voice laced with sarcasm.

the boys burst into laughter but quickly recovered, their expressions shifting to something more earnest. jake shook his head. “nah, you’re good. he’s your hoe, and he knows it.”

their encouragement made you hesitate. part of you wanted to stand your ground, but the other part of you—the side that had been waiting for some kind of signal from jay—felt the push. maybe they were right. maybe this was the moment.

heesung, ever the instigator, leaned closer, his smirk teasing. “what, are you scared now? all that confidence earlier, and now you're pussying out?”

his words struck a nerve. without another thought, you grabbed your drink in one hand and reached for jay’s drink with the other, standing up with newfound purpose.

before heading off, you turned to them, narrowing your eyes in warning. “if this messes things up with jay because of your little scheme, we’re gonna have a serious problem.”

jake and heesung exchanged triumphant glances, their grins growing wide. “awh, so you do care about him,” jake teased softly, his voice dripping with adoration.

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips as you turned and made your way toward jay. behind you, the boys exchanged triumphant looks, dapping each other up and eagerly shifting in their seats to get the best view of the chaos they’d just unleashed.

if you were sober right now, this would’ve been much harder. but walking through this high-end club with liquid courage warming your veins made it feel almost too easy. heads turned as you passed, lingering stares trailing over your figure. the way people looked at you—like you were the only person in the room—only fueled your confidence. but your eyes were locked on one person: jay.

every step you took toward him felt like a small victory, closing the distance between you two. your heart pounded in anticipation, but you pushed the feeling aside, focusing on your goal. the world around you blurred, the dim lights, music, and whispers fading into the background.

jay noticed you before you reached him. his expression shifted from mild confusion to relief, and finally, a soft, welcoming smile. he seemed caught off guard by your determined stride, as if trying to piece together why you were heading straight for him.

when you stopped in front of him, his gaze locked onto yours, his dark eyes searching your face. without missing a beat, you offered him a warm smile and extended his drink—the one you’d deliberately taken earlier to sell the illusion. “babe, what took you so long?” you teased, your tone light but purposeful, laced with playful mischief.

jay blinked, taking the drink from you, his brows furrowing slightly. before he could question you, you slid your arm around his back, your fingers brushing the fabric of his shirt as you pulled yourself closer. leaning in, your lips pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. the simple act was sweet, innocent even, but the way your lips lingered for just a second longer than necessary made it impossible for him to dismiss.

he. was. stunned.

his body stiffened slightly under your touch, and as you leaned back, you caught the way his jaw subtly tensed, his lips parted in shock. the confident exterior jay always carried faltered, and the rare sight of him flustered filled you with a quiet satisfaction.

you turned your attention to the girl standing beside him, who had gone completely silent. she stared at you, her expression uncertain, her confidence visibly shaken. you extended your hand toward her, your movements poised and deliberate. “hi, i’m y/n,” you said smoothly, your tone polite but firm, like you were both introducing yourself and reminding her of your place beside jay.

the girl hesitated, glancing between you and jay before awkwardly shaking your hand. she mumbled her name in response, her voice lacking the boldness she’d shown just moments earlier.

you took a slow sip of your drink, studying her with a small smile. “oh, was i interrupting something?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, your tone feigning innocence but carrying an undercurrent of teasing.

before she could answer, jay’s voice cut in. “no, of course not,” he said firmly, his gaze flicking to you, his tone making it clear that your presence wasn’t unwelcome.

the girl, however, looked like she wanted to argue, her lips parting before snapping shut again. she fidgeted awkwardly before finally speaking. “oh, um, i guess i’ll see you around, jay,” she said, her tone quieter now, unsure.

you watched her turn to leave, noting the stiffness in her stride as she hurried back to her friends, who immediately erupted into cheers and claps. the scene was almost laughable, but your attention was drawn back to jay, who had relaxed against the wall. his signature smirk slowly returned, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

“why’d you do all that?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, yet there was a hint of something deeper—curiosity, maybe even hope.

“what?” you replied, your voice casual as you leaned against the wall beside him. “you looked uncomfortable.”

jay chuckled softly, shaking his head. “bullshit,” he said, his smirk widening.

“oh, so you weren’t?” you shot back, your eyebrow raising in challenge.

his silence spoke volumes. his eyes, dark and focused, roamed your face, lingering on your lips before meeting your gaze again.

“were you jealous?” he asked finally, his voice dipping lower, the smirk never leaving his face.

your heart skipped a beat, but you refused to let him see how easily he got under your skin. instead, you rolled your eyes, a smirk of your own forming. “did you want her all over you like that?”

jay’s expression shifted slightly, the teasing glint in his eyes sharpening into something more serious, more deliberate. without warning, he pushed himself off the wall, closing the distance between you in a single step.

his free hand found your waist, the warmth of his palm searing through the thin fabric of your dress. “so…” he murmured, his voice a mix of challenge and seduction. his fingers brushed against the curve of your hip, slow and deliberate. “you wouldn’t be jealous if i was this close to her?”

his lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “if i touched her like this?” he continued, his hand sliding lower, his fingertips grazing the small of your back.

“if i kissed her?” his voice dropped further, his lips brushing your neck, the faintest, softest touch that sent a wave of heat flooding through you.

your breath hitched, your body betraying you as a sharp jolt of desire coiled low in your stomach. his scent surrounded you—woodsy, rich, and utterly intoxicating. your knees felt weak, and you gripped your drink tighter, the only thing keeping you steady.

jay pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning your face, waiting for your response. “hm?” he prompted, his tone daring, his smirk back in full force.

you swallowed hard, struggling to regain control. his presence was overwhelming, every inch of him drawing you closer, making it impossible to think straight. but you weren’t going to let him win so easily.

locking eyes with him, you returned his daring stare. “we both know who you’re taking home tonight,” you said, your voice low, steady, and full of confidence.

his eyebrow quirked, intrigued by your defiance. “that doesn’t answer my question, baby,” he murmured, the pet name rolling off his tongue with a smoothness that sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you.

you inhaled deeply, trying to steady your breathing. “i think you already know the answer,” you whispered.

“i want to hear you say it,” he demanded softly, his voice laced with authority.

you let out a shaky breath, your walls finally crumbling. “you make me crazy,” you admitted, the words barely audible.

his hand slid lower, his fingers teasing the curve of your ass as he leaned in closer. “is that so?” he whispered, his tone dripping with satisfaction.

but you weren’t done. your hand lifted, fingers trailing along his neck, down his chest, and lower, stopping just above his belt. gripping the leather lightly, you tugged him closer, your lips brushing his ear. “take me home and find out,” you murmured, your voice sultry and filled with promise.

jay’s eyes darkened, his jaw clenching slightly as his gaze dropped to your lips. for a moment, it felt like the world stopped, the tension between you crackling like electricity.

without another word, he pulled back, his phone already in his hand. “bet,” he said simply, his voice steady but his eyes still burning as he stepped around the corner to order a cab.

you leaned back against the wall, your heart racing, your skin still tingling from his touch. this was new—this was something neither of you could ignore. and as the anticipation bubbled in your chest, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing the night was far from over.

as jay disappeared around the corner to order the cab, you leaned back against the wall, attempting to steady your racing heart. his touch lingered like a trail of fire on your skin, and you couldn’t shake the way his voice—low, teasing, and possessive—had made you feel utterly weak. you took another sip of your drink, the coolness doing little to extinguish the heat that had spread through your body.

your gaze wandered, and it didn’t take long to find jake and heesung. they were still on the couch where you’d left them, and the moment your eyes met theirs, you regretted looking their way.

they were putting on a full-blown performance, clearly reenacting what little they’d witnessed of your interaction with jay.

jake had an arm slung dramatically around heesung’s shoulders, doing his best impression of your earlier actions. heesung batted his eyelashes, clutching an imaginary drink as he leaned into jake.

“oh, stop, i’m blushing!” heesung teased, pretending to giggle as he tilted his head like he was expecting a kiss on the cheek. jake leaned in with exaggerated slowness, and the two burst into laughter before they could even finish the mock kiss.

it didn’t end there. heesung suddenly straightened up, pulling an invisible belt like he’d seen you do with jay, his action dripping with playful exaggeration. jake let out a cackle, wheezing, barely able to contain himself.

their antics caught the attention of a few people around them, who were now glancing over and chuckling at their over-the-top performance.

you groaned inwardly, rolling your eyes. of course they’d turn what little they saw into something absurd. but as ridiculous as they were, you couldn’t help the small smile creeping onto your face.

jake was the first to notice you watching. his grin widened, and he immediately elbowed heesung, nodding in your direction. they both froze, their expressions turning comically innocent like they hadn’t just been clowning you moments earlier.

it didn’t last long. heesung gave you an exaggerated thumbs-up, his grin shameless.

“you’re welcome!” he yelled across the room, loud enough for you to hear clearly over the music.

you sighed, lifting your hand to flip them off with a slow, deliberate motion.

jake clutched his chest in offense, gasping dramatically, throwing himself against heesung like he’d been struck. heesung shook his head, laughing, clearly enjoying the moment far too much.

you rolled your eyes, unable to hold back the grin that tugged at your lips. no matter how much they teased, you knew they’d be cheering you on the whole way through. with one last amused glance at their ridiculous display, you turned your focus back to the moment ahead.

because as much as they enjoyed their antics, they didn’t know what had just transpired between you and jay. and judging by the fire still burning in your chest, you weren’t ready to share it with anyone just yet.

jay came back shortly after, his presence as confident as ever. “you ready?” he asked with a teasing smirk, his hand slipping effortlessly into yours. the simple gesture made your stomach flutter, but you masked it with a coy smile, letting him lead you back toward the couch.

as you approached, it was painfully obvious jake and heesung had been up to no good. they sat there pretending to have the world’s driest conversation about the “architectural integrity” of the club’s interior. their poorly hidden giggles betrayed them, and you could practically see the mischief radiating off them.

the moment their eyes landed on your intertwined hands, their mouths stretched into matching, shit-eating grins. they exchanged a quick look, clearly bursting with pride at their matchmaking success.

“we’re leaving,” jay announced nonchalantly, his tone cool and indifferent. “heading to y/n’s place.”

their grins widened, barely able to contain themselves.

“guysss,” jake whined dramatically, leaning forward with his chin in his hands. “don’t you wanna hang out with us a little longer? it’s been such a fun night.”

jay didn’t even blink. “don’t ask dumb questions,” he said flatly, leaving jake mock-offended as he clutched his chest and let out an exaggerated gasp.

“wow, okay, guess we’re just chopped liver now,” heesung chimed in, shaking his head as if deeply betrayed.

you giggled, amused at their dramatics, as you walked around the table to grab your purse. but before you could escape, the boys were on their feet, ready to send you off with one last round of chaos.

heesung clapped jay on the back and said goodbye with a knowing smirk, but it was jake who went in for the kill.

as you bent down to pick up your bag, jake leaned in close, his voice low and teasing. “be a good girl, yeah?”

you froze for half a second before whipping your head around to give him a sharp look. “jake,” you warned, your tone laced with disbelief.

he laughed, brushing it off like he hadn’t just said something that would replay in your mind for the rest of the night. before you could respond, he pulled you into a suffocating hug, swaying you side to side like an overly affectionate big brother.

“jake,” you groaned, your voice strained. “if you don’t let me go, i’m gonna throw up all over your ridiculously overpriced suit.”

he released you immediately, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “fine, fine,” he said with a grin. “but you owe me for being such a great friend.”

jay shook his head, amused, as he stepped forward to dap up jake. meanwhile, you turned to heesung, who was already smirking as he pulled you into a hug.

“do everything i’d do,” he muttered into your ear, his tone dripping with mischief.

you leaned back, raising an eyebrow. “hee, i think you’ve got that saying wrong.”

he shrugged, his grin widening. “nah, you heard me.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing. their antics were relentless.

as you turned to leave, heesung suddenly called out, “wait, jay—one more thing!”

jay sighed, already looking annoyed, but walked back over to him anyway.

heesung waved him closer, gesturing like he had some urgent, life-changing information to share. jay leaned down, and in one swift motion, heesung slipped something into his hand.

jay straightened up and opened his palm to reveal an xxl condom. your jaw dropped, and you clapped a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter.

jay stared at the condom, then up at heesung, who was already grinning like a fool. jake was no better, nearly doubled over in silent laughter.

after a beat of silence, jay let out the most sarcastic laugh you’d ever heard, his expression deadpan as he raised his hand to dap up heesung.

heesung, thinking he’d succeeded in his prank, lifted his hand eagerly—only for jay to drop his own and toss the condom back at him with a straight face.

“you’re actually insane,” jay said, shaking his head in disbelief as he turned to grab your hand.

you couldn’t hold it in anymore, bursting into laughter as jay tried to pull you toward the exit.

“what, dude? we just don’t wanna be uncles yet!” jake called after you, his voice full of fake concern.

without missing a beat, you turned your head back to them and shouted, “don’t worry. i have my own!”

their laughter exploded as jay finally led you away, his own chuckle slipping out as he shook his head. your friends were a pain, but you couldn’t deny they’d played a part in making the night unforgettable.

stepping outside into the crisp night air, the chill brushed against your skin, but it wasn’t the cold that sent shivers down your spine. it was the situation. your mind, slightly hazy from the alcohol, began to clear as reality hit. this wasn’t just another playful night with jay. there was something electric about this moment—something that made your nerves buzz and your heart race. despite the countless teasing and bold words exchanged between you two, the idea of acting on them felt entirely new, thrilling, and terrifying.

jay noticed the goosebumps on your arms almost immediately. without hesitation, he slipped off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. the weight of it, the lingering scent of his cologne, enveloped you, and your pulse quickened. it was a simple gesture, but the effect it had on you was anything but. little did he know the goosebumps weren’t from the cold—if anything, the alcohol had kept you warm—but from the thought of him, his touch, his presence.

“the cab’s going to be here in a couple of minutes,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the stillness of the night.

you nodded, leaning your back against the wrought iron fence in the dimly lit parking lot, your eyes trailing over him. jay looked impossibly handsome under the soft glow of the streetlights, his dark hair slightly tousled, his features sharp yet softened by the gentle lighting. you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips as you admired him openly.

“what?” he asked, his usual confident tone faltering slightly as your gaze lingered.

“nothing,” you replied with a grin, your voice light and teasing. “you’re just really handsome.”

he rolled his eyes, a soft laugh escaping him, but the faint blush dusting his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed. “you’re impossible,” he murmured, though the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth betrayed him.

he stepped closer, leaning his shoulder against the fence beside you. the proximity made your heart race, and when his eyes met yours again, the world seemed to slow down.

you shifted, turning your body fully to face him, the playful air between you giving way to something more vulnerable. “so,” you began, your voice softer now, “who was that girl really?”

jay raised an eyebrow, his smile growing wider. “so you were jealous.”

you quickly shook your head, though you couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped. “i wasn’t jealous. just curious,” you countered, though even you weren’t convinced by your own words.

he chuckled, his laugh warm and low, sending a shiver down your spine. “she was no one. honestly, she stopped me outside the bathroom and just started talking. i think her friends dared her or something—she kept glancing back at this group of girls, and they were all staring and giggling like maniacs.” he shook his head, laughing at the absurdity of it.

you snorted, the ridiculousness of the situation breaking through your earlier tension. “sounds like quite the encounter.”

his gaze shifted then, darkening slightly as his teasing tone faded. “but what about you?” he asked, his voice dropping. “why were jake and heesung being so flirty with you?”

you smirked, leaning in slightly. “now look who’s jealous.”

he scoffed, his hand brushing against yours as he closed the small gap between you. “of course i’m jealous. how could i not be?” his voice was lower now, his words deliberate and dripping with sincerity. “just look at you.”

you tilted your head, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “what can i say, jongseong? you’re one lucky man.”

his expression softened, his eyes scanning your face like he was memorizing every detail. “i am,” he admitted quietly. “you’re… unreal. like some angel who just fell out of the sky. i know it sounds cheesy, but… i’ve never felt like this before. not about anyone.”

his words hung in the air, their weight settling over you and making your chest tighten. you’d always known jay was smooth with words, but the raw honesty in his voice now was enough to leave you speechless.

“shit,” he muttered, his eyes dropping to your lips. he trailed off, but the way his body leaned into yours told you everything he didn’t say.

and then his lips were on yours, hot and insistent. the kiss was everything you’d imagined and more, his mouth moving against yours with a hunger that made your knees weak. you responded immediately, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

his hand found your waist, gripping it firmly as his other braced against the fence behind you. the feel of his body pressed against yours, the heat radiating off him, was intoxicating. every nerve in your body seemed to light up under his touch, and when his teeth grazed your lower lip, a quiet moan slipped from you.

the sound seemed to embolden him, but before either of you could take it further, a car honked nearby, pulling you both out of the moment. you turned to see a sleek black car pulling up to the curb, the driver glancing your way with an unreadable expression.

jay let out a soft laugh, his forehead resting against yours for a brief moment before he pulled back slightly. “cab’s here,” he said, his voice still husky.

he took your hand, guiding you toward the car and opening the door for you. you slid in, rolling your eyes playfully at his gentlemanly ways but secretly loving every second of it. he climbed in after you, settling beside you and reaching over to buckle your seatbelt before you could. the small, intimate gesture made your heart flutter, and you leaned back into the seat, trying to compose yourself.

as the car pulled away, the tension between you two was palpable. the driver’s presence kept things quiet, but you could feel jay’s thigh pressing against yours, his hand resting dangerously close to your own.

“uh,” he began, clearing his throat awkwardly. “sorry if i was too forward back there. i—”

you cut him off with a quiet “shut up,” turning to him and pressing your lips to his once more.

jay stiffened briefly before relaxing, his hand finding its way to your thigh as you twisted to face him. the kiss deepened, your hands wandering over his chest, tracing the lines of his body. his fingers gripped your leg, sliding slightly upward, and your breath hitched at the contact.

you knew this was reckless, making out in the backseat of a cab with a stranger just feet away, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. all the tension that had built between you two over the past months was finally spilling over, and you weren’t about to stop.

jay groaned softly when your teeth grazed his lower lip, and the sound sent another wave of heat through you. your lips left his, trailing kisses along his jaw and down his neck, and he leaned back slightly, giving you better access. you were just about to leave a mark when the car came to a sudden stop.

the abrupt halt had you both groaning in frustration, and jay pulled out his wallet, handing the driver a wad of cash—far more than necessary. probably his way of apologizing for the awkward atmosphere you two had just created.

the driver nodded, clearly unimpressed but grateful for the generous tip. you climbed out of the car, jay’s hand finding yours again as he led you toward the entrance of your apartment complex. neither of you spoke, the tension still crackling between you, and you knew the night was far from over.

you rushed into the building, gripping jay’s hand tightly, your heels echoing against the floor as you practically dragged him toward the elevator. his fingers intertwined with yours, his palm warm and firm, grounding you even as anticipation buzzed through your veins. the cool air from outside had barely faded from your skin, but the heat between you two was already rekindling, more intense with every step. jay trailed close behind, his free hand brushing lightly against the small of your back, the touch sending sparks up your spine.

as soon as the elevator doors slid open, you stepped inside, your focus solely on the buttons as you pressed the one for your floor. jay, however, was far more interested in you than the machinery. the moment the doors closed, he moved behind you, his hands slipping around your waist to pull you against him. the action was gentle yet possessive, his lips already brushing the side of your neck.

“couldn’t wait until we got upstairs?” you teased breathlessly, tilting your head slightly to give him better access.

jay chuckled lowly, his voice a soft growl in your ear. “not when you look like this.” his lips pressed against the sensitive skin of your neck, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses from your jawline down to your shoulder. the heat of his breath and the softness of his lips left you shivering, though it had nothing to do with the air conditioning in the lift.

you let out a soft sigh, leaning your head back against his shoulder, your body molding itself against his. the faint scent of his cologne mingled with the lingering alcohol on his breath, a heady combination that made your thoughts blur. his hands began to roam, one slipping to rest on your hip while the other grazed the curve of your waist. each touch was slow and deliberate, as if he were trying to memorize every inch of you.

your breathing hitched when you felt his arousal pressing against your lower back. jay’s movements grew bolder, his lips finding a particularly sensitive spot on your neck that made you bite your lip to stifle a moan.

you spun around to face him, breaking his trail of kisses. the look in his eyes—dark and filled with need—made your stomach twist in the best way. before he could say anything else, you grabbed his collar, pulling him down for a kiss. it was immediate and desperate, your mouths moving together as though you were starved for each other. your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging gently, and the low groan he let out only fueled the fire building inside you.

just as his hands slid lower, grazing the curve of your ass, the elevator dinged, the doors sliding open to reveal your floor. reluctantly, you pulled back, your lips swollen and your breathing heavy. jay didn’t let go of you, though, his hand finding yours again as he guided you out of the elevator.

his steps faltered slightly as he looked down the wrong hallway. “this way, right?” he asked, glancing at you with an innocent smile.

you rolled your eyes, tugging him gently in the opposite direction. “wrong way, loverboy,” you teased, your voice light despite the tension simmering between you.

he chuckled softly, following your lead, though he couldn’t resist letting his gaze wander. walking behind you, his eyes drifted to the sway of your hips, and before he could stop himself, his hand reached out to deliver a light slap to your ass. you turned your head to glare at him, though the amused smile tugging at your lips gave you away..

as you approached your apartment door, you let go of jay’s hand, fishing through your purse for your keys. your fingers fumbled slightly, whether from the alcohol, the adrenaline, or jay’s wandering hands, which had returned to your waist, sliding over your curves with deliberate slowness. his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, and you could feel his smile against your skin.

“be patient,” you teased, glancing over your shoulder to meet his heated gaze. “i’m not going anywhere.”

jay let out a low chuckle, but his hands betrayed his growing impatience, gripping your hips tighter. finally, you managed to retrieve the keys, unlocking the door with a satisfying click. before you could step inside, jay pushed the door open, his movements swift as he guided you in and closed it behind you. the door locked with a decisive snap, and just like that, the tension between you reignited.

his lips were on yours in an instant, the kiss messy and frantic. your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just hard enough to draw a low growl from him, while his hands roamed freely, exploring every inch of you he could reach. you were drowning in him, lost in the heat of his touch and the intoxicating pull of his lips.

but just as your fingers found the buckle of his belt, jay abruptly pulled back, his hands falling to his sides as he stepped back slightly. the look on his face was one of hesitation, his brows furrowed as though he was wrestling with himself.

“are you okay?” you asked softly, your chest still heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

jay ran a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze for a moment. “i just… are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “we’re drunk… i just… i want our first time to be special.” his words were hesitant, uncharacteristically shy for someone usually so confident.

you blinked at him, his concerns sinking in. part of you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it—after all, you knew exactly what you wanted, and it was him. but the sincerity in his eyes stopped you. he wasn’t just stalling for the sake of it; he truly cared.

he hesitated again, looking away as if he were afraid of your reaction. “i just don’t want this to mess things up between us. i don’t want you to regret it in the morning.”

you sighed, slipping off his jacket and hanging it neatly on a hook before toeing off your heels. “if you think that’s best, then we don’t have to do anything,” you said, stepping closer and cupping his face in your hands. “i trust you, jay.”

but despite your calm words, frustration simmered beneath the surface. he had left you on the edge, your body practically vibrating with need, and now he wanted to stop? you couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry at how ridiculous the situation was. still, you respected him too much to push.

jay bit his lip, his expression torn. “it’s not that i don’t want to,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “trust me, i’ve never wanted anything more. but…” he trailed off, his eyes darting to the floor before meeting yours again. his teasing smirk returned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “how about we pick this up tomorrow? first thing in the morning?”

you raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed but choosing not to argue. instead, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “sure,” you murmured, though your tone betrayed your irritation.

you walked to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, trying to cool off in more ways than one. jay followed, leaning against the counter in silence. his jaw was tense, his eyes focused on some distant point as though deep in thought. it was clear he was second-guessing his decision, his discomfort only heightened by the obvious strain in his pants.

you smirked, an idea forming in your mind. setting your glass down, you leaned over the kitchen island, deliberately arching your back to give him a perfect view of your ass. the action snapped him out of his thoughts, his eyes darkening as they locked onto you.

“i’m going to take a shower,” you said casually, flipping your hair over your shoulder to expose your neck—the same neck he had been so eager to mark earlier.

jay’s lips parted as if to say something, but he remained silent, his gaze fixed on you.

you started to walk away, throwing one last smirk over your shoulder. “goodnight, loverboy,” you teased.

“wait,” he called out, his voice strained.

you turned, feigning innocence. “yes?”

he hesitated, his fists clenching at his sides. “are you sure… we’re on the same page?”

you bit back a laugh, recognizing his internal struggle for what it was. stepping closer, you looked up at him, your lips curving into a sly smile. “sure,” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “but honestly? i think you’re all talk.”

the words hit their mark, his jaw tightening as his ego flared. “fuck you,” he hissed, before pulling you against him, his lips crashing down on yours once more. his hand found your jaw, tilting your head to the side as he resumed his assault on your neck, this time with more intensity.

you grinned in success. finally, nothing was standing in your way.

he captured your lips again, his hands firm yet gentle as he guided you backward until the couch pressed against the back of your knees. without breaking the kiss, jay’s fingers skillfully found the zipper of your dress, pulling it down in one smooth motion. the fabric fell from your shoulders, pooling at your feet to reveal the black lace lingerie you’d chosen earlier that night. he pulled away momentarily, his gaze sweeping over your figure with a mix of admiration and desire.

as he began trailing kisses back toward your lips, his mouth left a burning path along your skin—starting at your thighs, teasingly brushing against your clothed heat, moving to your stomach, breasts, collarbones, and finally back to your neck. each kiss was slow and deliberate, as though he wanted to savor every inch of you. he unclasped your bra, sliding it off and tossing it carelessly to the floor before his eyes returned to your bare chest.

jay’s lips parted slightly, and for a moment, he just stared, taking in the sight of you completely exposed before him. a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. “you’re just too perfect, aren’t you?” he murmured, his hands cupping your breasts, his thumbs brushing lightly over your sensitive peaks. “seriously, how the fuck did i get this lucky?”

his lips found your skin again, marking you as though he were leaving a map of his journey across your body. you rolled your eyes at his teasing, though a smirk of your own played on your lips.

“maybe i’m the lucky one,” you shot back, sliding your hands beneath his sweater and tugging it over his head, revealing his toned chest. the sight of his defined muscles had your pulse racing, but you didn’t let it distract you. with newfound determination, you moved to unbuckle his belt, picking up where you’d left off in the heat of the moment earlier. in one swift motion, you pulled his pants and boxers down together, his erection springing free.

the size of him caught you off guard, your eyes widening slightly as you connected the dots about the xxl condom heeseung had teased him about. jay noticed your reaction and let out a low chuckle, his confidence only growing. “looks like i wasn’t the only one talking a big game,” he teased, his smirk widening.

your gaze snapped back to his, a spark of determination flaring in your chest. you were going to prove him wrong. you sank to your knees in front of him, your fingers brushing against his thighs as you prepared to take him in your mouth, but before you could, he grabbed your waist, lifting you effortlessly and laying you back onto the couch.

“you first, princess,” he said, the nickname sending a shiver through you. he grinned at the way your body seemed to melt beneath his touch, leaning down to kiss your lips one more time before shifting lower.

his hands found the sides of your hips, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and sliding them down your legs. the cool air against your bare skin only heightened your anticipation as he tossed the fabric aside. his gaze lingered on your glistening core, and he let out a low groan.

“fuck, you’re flawless,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “and so fucking wet.”

“just for you, seongie,” you teased, the nickname making his head tilt slightly as he bit his lip. the effect it had on him was clear, and you took advantage of it, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. “don’t make me wait,” you whispered impatiently.

jay’s tongue traced a slow, deliberate line along your slit, and the sensation had your body trembling almost instantly. he smiled against you, the vibration of his amusement only adding to the intensity. his lips wrapped around your most sensitive spot, sucking gently before his tongue began working in circles. your back arched involuntarily, a string of soft moans spilling from your lips.

“jay,” you managed to mumble, though your voice was barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat. hearing his name roll off your tongue so sweetly made him hum in response, the added stimulation pushing you closer to the edge.

the knot in your stomach tightened, your body reacting to every flick and stroke of his tongue. an idea sparked in your mind, and with a shaky breath, you tugged lightly at his hair, pulling him back just enough to speak. his face was glistening with your slick, his lips swollen and his pupils blown wide. he looked utterly wrecked—and you hadn’t even touched him yet.

“touch yourself,” you said breathlessly, your voice laced with both a command and a plea.

his lips curled into a smirk, but he didn’t hesitate. one hand disappeared between his legs as he dove back in, his tongue working you over with renewed vigor. the combination of his moans and yours filled the room, each sound pushing you both closer to your breaking points. your hips bucked against his face, seeking more, and he didn’t hold back, gripping your thighs to keep you steady as he devoured you.

the tension in your core finally snapped, and your release crashed over you in waves, your body trembling as you cried out his name. jay groaned against you, his movements slowing as he licked you clean, savoring every drop of your climax. his own hand stilled, though it was clear he was still achingly hard.

when he pulled back, his face was flushed, his lips parted as he caught his breath. his gaze locked onto yours, his eyes dark with unspoken need.

you reached out, brushing your fingers against his jaw. “my turn,” you murmured, a mischievous glint in your eye.

jay leaned back against the couch, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. a satisfied smirk played on his lips, a mixture of pride and disbelief settling in as he replayed the last few minutes in his mind. he couldn’t help but feel impressed with himself for holding it together as long as he had—especially considering how hard it was not to lose control the moment you kissed him in the cab. inwardly, he gave himself a silent pat on the back.

you, however, weren’t finished. sitting up on shaky legs, you closed the gap between you, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. it was messy and unrestrained, your tongue brushing against his as you tasted yourself on his lips. the act alone sent another wave of arousal through your body, and jay groaned into the kiss, his fingers grazing your jaw to pull you closer.

breaking the kiss, you slid down onto your knees in front of him. jay’s dark eyes followed you, his body tense with anticipation as his chest heaved. his gaze was heavy, and you could see the thin layer of sweat glistening on his skin. he leaned back into the couch, spreading his legs slightly to give you better access. the weight of his arousal was evident, his cock flushed and rigid, standing tall between his thighs.

you started slow, trailing light kisses along the inside of his thighs. his muscles twitched under your touch, and a low groan escaped his lips. your fingers wrapped around his length, stroking him gently as you worked your way closer. jay tilted his head back, his eyes fluttering shut as he let the sensation wash over him. but that wasn’t what you wanted. you wanted his attention—all of it.

you paused abruptly, releasing him from your grasp. his eyes snapped open, the confusion and slight panic evident as he looked down at you. “what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice husky and laced with concern.

you tilted your head, your tone firm but teasing as you commanded, “look at me.”

jay’s brows furrowed, and a soft, involuntary moan slipped from his lips. there was something about the dominance in your voice, the way you took control, that drove him wild. “yes, ma’am,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes locking with yours.

satisfied with his obedience, you resumed your teasing, your tongue flicking out to lick a slow line from the base of his shaft to the tip. your movements were deliberate, your eyes never leaving his as you circled the sensitive head with your tongue, tasting the salty bead of precum that had already formed. his breath hitched, and his hands clenched at his sides as he fought to keep himself grounded.

when you finally took him into your mouth, jay’s hand instinctively found its way to your hair. he gathered it into a ponytail, his grip firm yet careful, as though he were afraid of hurting you. you started slow, taking as much of him as you could manage, though his size made it a challenge. your cheeks hollowed as you sucked, and jay let out a deep groan, his hips shifting slightly.

“fuck,” he muttered, his voice strained as he tried to keep himself in check. but the sight of you on your knees, your lips wrapped around him, was too much. his resolve was crumbling, and he knew it.

each time you slid him deeper into your mouth, the tip of his cock brushed against the back of your throat, making you gag softly. jay noticed your struggle and let out a low chuckle, his voice tinged with both amusement and lust. “you’re doing so good, baby,” he praised, his hand gently guiding your movements as he pushed and pulled on your hair.

you used one hand to stroke the length you couldn’t take, your movements synchronized with the bobbing of your head. occasionally, you pulled back to catch your breath, your hand continuing to work him as you pressed kisses and sucked lightly along his length, teasing him further. jay was a mess, his lips parted as he panted, his head falling back against the couch. his other hand gripped the cushion tightly as he tried to keep himself together.

“let me hear you, jay,” you murmured, your voice soft but commanding. “don’t hold it back.”

his head snapped back up at your words, his dark eyes meeting yours as he finally let go. a string of deep, guttural moans poured from his lips, each one making your core tighten with need. the sounds of his pleasure were addictive, spurring you on as you sucked harder, your cheeks hollowing to intensify the sensation.

you quickened your pace, your hand and mouth working together seamlessly. jay’s grip on your hair tightened slightly, his hips bucking up involuntarily as he lost himself in the pleasure. “fuck, baby, i’m close,” he warned, his voice shaky and breathless.

with one final swirl of your tongue around his tip and a firm stroke of your hand, jay’s body tensed. his release came in hot, thick spurts down your throat, and you swallowed every drop without hesitation. his moans echoed through the room, raw and unrestrained, as his body shuddered from the intensity of his climax.

you pulled back slowly, licking your lips and catching any stray drops that had escaped. jay looked completely wrecked, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his composure. his head lolled back against the couch, and his eyes fluttered shut as a satisfied groan escaped his lips.

but you weren’t done. the ache between your legs was unbearable, and the sight of jay so undone only made it worse. your thighs pressed together instinctively, trying to find some relief, but it wasn’t enough.

jay opened his eyes, his gaze heavy with exhaustion but still laced with hunger. he noticed the way you were squirming, your need evident in the way you looked at him. a lazy smirk spread across his face. “looks like someone needs a little more attention,” he teased, his voice low and teasing. you bit your lip, your cheeks flushing slightly as you nodded.

jay reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek before trailing down your body. “then let me take care of you,” he murmured, his smirk shifting into a soft, genuine smile.

jay smirked at the match of energy you gave him, his hands resting on your hips as you slowly adjusted yourself in his lap to straddle him. your eyes locked, the unspoken tension in the air making your breaths heavier before you leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss that was far more heated than the ones before. it was raw, passionate, and both of you couldn’t help the soft moans that escaped into each other's mouths as you tasted the combined remnants of yourselves on each other’s tongues.

his hands traveled down your body, settling on your ass and squeezing firmly. the action made you gasp against his lips, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss further. when he broke away, he trailed his lips back down to your chest, focusing his attention on your breasts once more, kissing, sucking, and lightly biting the sensitive flesh. sweet hums slipped from your lips as your fingers tangled in his hair, keeping him exactly where you wanted him.

you started grinding against him slowly, your arousal evident as you rubbed yourself along his length, desperate for more. jay groaned into your skin, his hands moving to hold your hips firmly in place. one of his hands slid down between your thighs, his fingers finding your clit and circling it softly, the touch sending jolts of electricity through your body.

you pulled his lips back to yours for another deep, messy kiss, the moan in your throat muffled as you whispered, “please, jay.”

he froze for a moment, your plea echoing in his mind. he didn’t even need you to beg, but hearing those words fall from your lips so willingly ignited something deep inside him. "fuck, princess," he murmured against your lips before leaning forward to reach for his pants, holding you steady with one hand so you wouldn’t fall back.

jay pulled out a condom from his pocket, his lips quirking into a grin. you laughed softly, tilting your head back. “how ironic,” you teased. “i was wondering why you didn’t take the ones from hee earlier. now i guess i know why.”

he laughed against your shoulder, his breath warm on your skin. “you’re making me look crazy, like i planned this whole thing from the start.”

you bit your lip, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably. “you didn’t?” you asked, feigning offense.

“it spawned in my pocket, okay? end of topic,” he quipped, his grin wide. “now kiss me and forget we even had this conversation.”

you shook your head, laughing, but complied, leaning in to kiss him deeply as he fumbled to open the condom behind your back. once it was ready, he leaned back slightly, rolling it on before meeting your gaze.

placing your hands on his shoulders, you slowly lifted yourself, adjusting to align yourself with him. the anticipation built as you began to lower yourself, his tip stretching you inch by inch. you both groaned at the overwhelming sensation, your tightness making it difficult to take him in completely.

jay’s hand came up to stroke your head gently, his thumb brushing soothingly along your temple. “slow down, princess,” he murmured, his tone soft and reassuring. “i’m not going anywhere.”

his words sent a wave of calm through you, allowing you to relax and adjust. a small giggle escaped your lips, and jay smirked at the sound, pleased to see you loosening up. with a deep breath, you lowered yourself fully, gasping as he filled you completely. his hands settled back on your hips, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort.

“you’re doing so good, baby,” he praised, his voice filled with genuine admiration. the way he said it, so sweet and sincere, made you lean forward and kiss him again, your lips pressing against his in a needy, desperate way. slowly, you began to move, grinding yourself up and down his length.

the initial sting of pain dissolved into pure pleasure as you found your rhythm, your hips rolling fluidly against him. jay met your movements halfway, his own hips snapping up to match your pace. his grip on your waist tightened as his other hand trailed up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your sensitive nipple.

the sounds in the room were sinful—breathless moans, gasps, and the slick sound of your bodies meeting in perfect harmony. your brows furrowed, your lips parting as waves of pleasure rippled through you. jay cursed under his breath at the sight of you, his own restraint faltering as he felt his release creeping closer.

“fuck, you’re perfect,” he groaned, leaning forward to capture your lips once again. his lips trailed down your jawline to your neck, where he nipped and kissed, leaving faint marks behind. the added sensation made you tremble, and your movements quickened, your thighs burning as you chased your high.

jay’s fingers found your clit again, rubbing circles against it in time with your thrusts. the overwhelming pleasure sent you over the edge, a loud, broken moan escaping your lips as you came undone. jay wasn’t far behind, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself deep inside you, releasing with a guttural groan.

you collapsed against his chest, both of you struggling to catch your breath as you came down from the high. your foreheads rested together, your sweaty skin sticking slightly as you shared soft, lazy kisses. the silence that followed was peaceful, filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing.

jay broke the quiet first, his voice soft and unsure. “be my girlfriend?”

you laughed lightly, lifting your head to look at him. “you should’ve asked that before we had sex,” you teased, your tone playful.

jay’s face lit up with laughter, his deep chuckles shaking both of your bodies. “okay, fair,” he admitted, nodding. “may i be your boyfriend, then?” he asked again, this time with a slight pout that made your heart flutter.

you smirked, pretending to think it over. “you’re getting closer…”

he tilted his head, pretending to be deep in thought before blurting out, “be my wife.”

you laughed, poking his chest. “that’s a little forward, don’t you think?” you teased. then, softening, you added, “but… yes.”

jay’s eyes lit up, and he pulled you into a deep, passionate kiss, his hands cradling your face as he grinned against your lips. the moment was interrupted by the sharp sound of a phone ringing. jay groaned in frustration, leaning back to grab his phone from where it had fallen in his pants.

when he checked the screen, both of your eyes locked on the caller ID. “cupids' worst minion?” you giggled, amused at the nickname.

jay sighed. “jake,” he muttered, earning a laugh from you. “he’s the worst at giving advice... but i guess it worked out. might have to rethink that nickname later.”

he answered the call, putting it on speaker. “oh, god, jay, you picked up?” jake’s voice came through, laced with panic. “i don’t know if that’s a good sign.”

you giggled as jay rolled his eyes. in the background, you could hear faint laughter and the unmistakable voices of the rest of the group. “ayo, you busy right now?” jungwon’s voice cut through, and you both exchanged amused looks.

“kinda, yeah,” jay replied, smirking at you.

“okay, i’ll be quick,” jungwon said hurriedly. “how’s it going with your future wife? hee and jake told us everything—details and all—and i’m losing it. give us an update!”

both you and jay burst into laughter, the sound making the other line fall silent. jay smirked at the phone. “yeah, we’re locked in,” he said confidently.

silence followed for a beat before the loudest cheering erupted from the other end. you and jay laughed along with them, the sound of your shared joy filling the room.

#park jongseong x reader #park jongseong #jongseong smut #jay smut #jongseong x reader #jay #jay x reader

112 notes · View notes