#Mesmerizing Hues | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deunmiu-dessie · 11 months ago

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ⅳ▬ ⁽ 𝓎𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒿𝒶 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₈˖₆ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : mdni----- unedited, NSFW, explicit content, teratophilia, yautja/human, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, breeding, dubcon, rape/noncon elements, violence, alien abduction (??), reader is lowkey horny all the time. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: after a yautja breaks into your home, all hell breaks loose.

꒰m!yautja ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

THUMP THUMP

Crash!

𝒴our eyes flutter open, bleary with sleep and confusion. The room is dark, the moonlight filtering through the window, casting a soft glow onto your thick blanket. With a yawn, you stretch out your limbs, feeling your joints crack as you reach out for the lamp on your nightstand. The small clink of the knob being twisted breaks the silence of the night in your quiet house. You take a moment to rub the sleep from your eyes before you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and shuffle down, your warm feet making contact with the cool touch of your house shoes. It takes a second for you to come to but you finally find yourself upright and walking out of the room. You weren't necessarily worried, as your mischievous cat often wreaks havoc on the counters at night. It's a familiar sight. Typically, you would leave the mess until morning, but this time, an inexplicable urge pushes you to investigate. Plus, you're quite thirsty. Descending the wooden stairs leisurely, you reach the end of the hallway at the bottom and flick on the light switch. The single bulb illuminates only your immediate surroundings, but it's enough for your eyes to adjust to the darkness downstairs.

The shuffling of your footsteps reverberated in your ears, causing an inexplicable unease to wash over you. Your legs became as heavy as lead, making each step a painful endeavor. Suddenly, a surge of alarm courses through you as when the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, goosebumps erupting across your skin. You halt your movement, allowing your senses to sharpen and tune in. The faint jingle and jangle of your cat's collar catches your immediate attention, prompting you to cautiously retrace your steps towards the staircase. As your trembling hands gripped the railing, you were taken aback by the sight of your black and white feline leisurely stretching at the top of the stairs, its mouth opening wide in a yawn. If your cat had been upstairs all along, then what was the noise you heard? Fear crept into the depths of your stomach, churning your insides and burning your throat. In this moment of vulnerability, you realized that you were unarmed, with the only available option being a baseball bat tucked away in the closet just a few feet from where you stood. A lump formed in your throat as you swallowed hard, desperately attempting to maintain your composure as you stealthily made your way toward the closet. The thought of calling for help vanished from your mind, replaced by a gripping fear that consumed your every thought. Your attention was suddenly captivated by a mesmerizing neon green hue, its splatters leading a mysterious trail toward the dining room.

With trembling hands, you press them against your mouth to stifle a sob, cringing when you feel the clamminess of your skin. As you stand frozen in terror, your ears tingle and twitch, picking up on a soft clicking sound in front of you. Slowly, your eyes scan upwards, only to be met with an impenetrable darkness in the dining room, with the glowing substance serving as the sole source of illumination. A soft whimper escapes your lips, and at that moment, all thoughts of finding a weapon vanished. Whoever or whatever was in your house, one thing was certain - it was not human. As you stood there, the air before you seemed to ripple and quiver, creating a captivating display of ethereal pink and green hues before your dark dining room came back into your 'sight'. A shudder traveled down your spine, and your legs wobbled, as if unable to bear your weight any longer. With a mix of trepidation and curiosity, you tentatively extended your hand, half-expecting your senses to deceive you in this surreal moment. The sensation was akin to touching a brick wall, the object beneath your hand was rigid and corded with muscles. You clenched your eyes shut and bit your lip, pulling your hand away briefly from whatever was there. Your lashes fluttered, lifting to reveal glossy eyes and unshed tears. The air suddenly materialized into something inhumane. The air around you suddenly morphed into something otherworldly. It stood imposingly tall, slender, and muscular. Once more, you heard that clicking noise coming from the being in front of you. Overwhelmed by the intense mental stimulation, your mind reaches its breaking point. Your eyes involuntarily rolled to the back of your head, rendering your body completely incapacitated. In a sudden motion, you stumbled forward, colliding with the mysterious entity standing before you. With surprising tenderness, its clawed hands extended to cradle your delicate form.

With ease, the colossal Predator effortlessly lifted the small human who had fallen into him, ensuring that its sharp claws didn't puncture your tender thighs. Your head hangs limply, narrowly avoiding the menacing tusks attached to the Predator's shoulder armor. Perturbed the Predator emits a series of clicks, and swiftly makes his way into the living room and to the small couch, gently unfurling his arms from around you and placing you onto it. Tilting his head his tubed dreads cascade over his shoulder, and behind his mask, the Predator's intense gaze is fixated on your motionless body. Fortunately, you appeared unharmed, it seemed you had simply fainted. Ahn'thu's head jerked up abruptly, rendering himself invisible to the naked eye immediately. The sharp crunch of broken glass echoed in his ear canal as he swiftly surveyed the room through his mask, instantly identifying multiple human heat signatures. Glancing down at the small figure nestled on the couch, he reassured himself that you would remain unharmed among your own kind. Revealing himself now would undoubtedly result in a hasty and reckless response from the intruders, no doubt they would fire without thinking of who was in the house originally.

The Yautja took his eye off the human on the couch and ventured into the darkness of the living room. The heat signatures were moving closer, almost to the living room. The heat signatures were getting closer, inching towards the heart of the room. Humans, being as noisy as ever, made their presence known with every step, every whisper, and every click of their weapons. Ahn'thu maintained surveillance on their positions, making sure they stayed within sight. The soldiers eventually entered the living room, speaking in hushed tones. It took awhile but one of them noticed you unconscious on the couch, nudged his fellow soldier, and pointed towards your body.

" We have a civilian here Captain, your orders?"

A burly man in the front came to a halt, scanning the area until he spotted your motionless form."Check for signs of life," he commanded. Ahn'thu's warning trill sent a shiver down the soldiers' spines. The sound of his gauntlet blades unsheathing itself made them wary and the room was suddenly filled with red dots from their weapons, aiming at nothing and everything. " Stay on high alert! It has the advantage of being able to see us, but we are unable to perceive its existence. Keep your guard up and remain cautious at all times. "

Ahn'thu almost let out a click of amusement. He didn't want this gruesome scene to play out in your home. He didn't want you to wake up to the putrid smell of metallic blood and death. He didn't want your eyes to widen in horror at the sight of crimson stains on your wooden floors and white walls. The sound of your groans echoed through the room, instantly drawing the gaze of everyone present. With bated breath, they observed as your unconscious form gradually stirred back to life. Ahn'thu emitted a contented purr, relieved to witness the small human's recovery. Although reluctant, the Predator seized the opportunity to depart unnoticed while their attention was fixated, skillfully concealing itself nearby.

With a flutter, your eyes blinked open for the second time tonight, accompanied by a pounding ache at the back of your head. Oddly enough, you couldn't recall any instance of hitting your head. As you propped yourself up, the fog in your mind started to lift, and your bleary eyes regained focus.

The hushed shuffle of footsteps nearby caused your muscles to tense, and in that moment, the memories flooded back. You turned your gaze slowly towards the direction of the sound, your hands instinctively rising to cover your mouth, a gasp escaping through your fingers.

In front of you, a group of armed men stood, the lasers of their guns fixed on your trembling figure. Suddenly, one of them took a step forward, gradually lowering his weapon. "We're not here to hurt you. We're after something that has entered your home. Have you seen anything?" Reluctantly, you nodded your head and swallowed a sob. "T-there was this man— no, this thing. It was tall, but it didn't appear human. It was injured. I didn't even notice it at first, despite it being right in front of me." Anxiously playing with your fingers, you muttered, "I know it sounds crazy, but it just appeared out of nowhere, like it was invisible at first." The man nodded, his face wearing a grim expression. He raised his gun again, aiming it at your head. " If only you didn't know so much. " Your eyes widened as you looked at the other soldiers in the room, tears falling down your cheeks. "N-no! I swear I won't say a word, please, please don't hurt me."

' gurgle '

Blood coated your face in small rivulets, and you sat paralyzed on the couch, observing as the man in front of you collapsed to the floor, blood pooling from his mouth. Suddenly, the alien materializes, a massive eight-foot Yautja looming just a few inches away from the lifeless body. The masked creature locked eyes with you, its head cocked to the side. Time seemed to stand still as you both stared at each other until chilling words reached your ears.

"Fire!" Bullets whizzed by your face, lodging into the walls and furniture around you. You couldn't help but scream, curling into a tight ball to make yourself as small as possible, hands covering your ears, eyes shut tight, face buried in your knees.

Ahn'thu vanished from sight, the sound of his blade cutting through the air was more deafening than the gunshots, and soon bodies were falling to the ground. Their cries pierced through your hands and tears streamed down your face. Despite the diminishing sound of gunfire, it didn't mean that it had completely ceased. A searing, white-hot pain shot through your thigh, prompting you to release a scream that resonated with pure agony. The intensity of your cry caught Ahn'thu's attention, causing him to swiftly turn towards you, his cloak disengaging in the process. A deafening roar reverberated throughout the house, shaking its very foundation. With a swift and calculated movement, Ahn'thu twisted his body towards the soldier closest to him, seizing the soldier's head in his powerful grip. In a bone-chilling display, he twisted and pulled, leaving behind a severed head and a spine dangling from the Predators' colossal hands. Ahn'thu swiftly reached for the shuriken hanging from his waist, the sharp blades catching the light as they spun open. With a precise throw, the blade pierced through a man's throat, causing the others to scatter in fear dropping their weapons in the process. After dispatching the final opponent, the Yautja turned towards the trembling human huddled on the couch, your body covered in a sheen of sweat. The massive figure advanced, only to halt when you tucked your body to the couch, a pained gasp echoing in the room. While he wished for your comfort, that wasn't a priority when there was a bullet lodged in your thigh. Ahn'thu's gaze flickered to the wound, his concern evident as he saw the blood seeping through your clenched hands that were putting pressure on the area. With swift movements, he approached you lifting you gently into his arms. A gentle purr rumbling from his chest, soothing you. Gradually, your body relaxed in his arms, the tension melting away and your heat signature indicating a decrease in distress. The Yautja grumbled as he heard the wailing of cop sirens. He walked over to one of the dead bodies, softly positioning you so you were cradled in the crook of one of his arms, and pulled the shuriken from the man's throat, flicking it out so that the blades closed. His ship was a considerable distance away, but luckily, he was surrounded by miles of woods. Calling for his ship and cloaking it in a clearing would be a simple task. Ahn'thu smoothly exited, slipping through the gaping hole in the wall with care not to cause you any discomfort. The clamor of the intruders breaking through the door pushed him to hasten his steps, the cloaking device immediately bending the light and allowing you two to become transparent. He realized he had to extract the bullet swiftly, noticing the ashen hue of your soft skin, and your eyes bleary with pain. He comforted you with a soft purr, holding you close to maintain warmth. With a gentle flutter, your eyes succumbed to the overwhelming pain, plunging you into a deep slumber for the second instance that night.

For the past half an hour, he has been walking tirelessly, determined to put a considerable distance between himself and the small town. Initially, he frets when you don't show any signs of movement for the first ten minutes of the journey. However, he finds solace in the data and body temperature readings provided by his equipment, albeit temporarily. Gently, he cradles you in the crook of his arm, drawing you closer so that he can operate his gauntlet. The ship will arrive shortly, in just a matter of minutes. He steals another glance at you, observing your shallow breaths and the rapid movements of your eyes beneath closed lids as if chasing fleeting dreams.

The ship arrives with a gentle breeze and the familiar beep of his gauntlet. It briefly materializes, showing him the entrance before vanishing and sealing behind him. The interior is pleasantly cool, but not too much so. The netting covering his body regulated his temperature, he was never too cold nor too hot— but Ahn'thu preferred it to be cold. His main concern is removing the bullet from your body, so he takes you to his room and lays you down on his furs to inspect your wound.

Unfazed by the blood staining the plush bedding, Ahn'thu retrieves a reddish substance from a nearby chest. With a delicate touch, he grasps your leg, wiping away some of the blood to locate the wound. Placing the red putty against the injury, he allows it to work its magic. As tears cascade down your cheeks and your body writhes in pain, he holds you firmly, emitting a deep purr from his chest to provide comfort and alleviate your suffering. Although you grow increasingly docile, spasms persist in your leg as he maintains his grip.

As the weight of the crimson putty becomes burdensome, he delicately peels it away from your skin, examining the bullet now cradled in his palm. Ahn'thu places it within a smaller container before retrieving a vial of cerulean liquid and returning to your side, his worried expression evident. Clicking his tongue in apprehension, he understands the impending agony that awaits you. He applies a single drop of the liquid onto the wound, resuming his comforting purrs, almost stopping when your trembling hand finds his and clings tightly. Your cries grow louder, sweat trickling down your body, causing it to tremor uncontrollably. Though he can offer little in terms of remedy, he remains by your side, providing solace through closeness and doing his utmost to ease your suffering.

It feels like an eternity before your trembling stops, your wound closes, and your breathing becomes steady. In reality, it only took five minutes. You're still grasping his hand, his claws curled inwards to his palm so that he didn't hurt you in any way. And while he's reluctant to let go of you, he does so— he needs to report back to his Elder and start the hunt for the Bad Blood in the Town area. He lets out an amused click as your hand slightly rises off the bed to find him again. He turns and makes his way to the door, letting it slide open before leaving.

As your eyes flutter open, you struggle to adjust to the darkness surrounding you. The remnants of a bullet wound in your thigh send phantom pains coursing through your body, causing a dull ache. With a weary groan, you manage to sit up, only to be startled by the sudden flood of light that blinds you momentarily. The room feels alien, unfamiliar, and a wave of panic threatens to consume you. However, you gather your composure and slowly maneuver yourself off the massive bed. Every movement is accompanied by the symphony of your body's protests - the creaking of bones and the popping of joints. Finally, as your feet touch the cool metal flooring, you take a moment to stretch your limbs, savoring the sweet relief it brings.

It seems like you're just in a room, with no visible exit. Desperately searching for a way out, you cautiously explore the walls for any hidden buttons. You jump back as a door slides open, cool air brushing up against your skin. After cautiously venturing out, you find yourself in a maze of identical hallways, feeling disoriented. Biting your lip you walked a bit farther, gasping softly as you stumble upon a control room filled with strange symbols and advanced technology.

With a sudden jolt, you took a step back and collided with an unyielding force. Suddenly, a sharp clicking noise resonated near your ear, propelling you into a sprint, deftly evading whatever obstructed your path. When you dared to steal a glance behind, there was nothing to be seen, and a sigh of relief escaped your lips. However, as you redirected your attention forward, a horrifying sight greeted you, prompting a piercing scream to erupt from your throat at the thing in front of you. Overwhelmed by fear, you stumble backward and seek solace against the safety of a nearby wall, tears streaming down your cheeks, your body convulsing with hiccups, and your breaths coming in deep, shaky inhales.

Ahn'thu takes a step closer, then crouches down, his head cocked to the side. You seem to fear him, understandably so given recent events. He resorts to purring, noting the wariness and familiarity in your eyes. He looks down at his gauntlet and starts to type, you're curious but not enough to scoot closer and look.

You lean forward some to see what he's doing but jerk your body back forcefully when he moves abruptly, attempting to show you his gauntlet, hitting your head on the metal wall behind you. Though a dull ache lingers in your skull, you pay it little mind.

However, Ahn'thu on the other hand, clicks worriedly, leaning closer to look at your head. He reminds himself that you're scared when you move further away from him. With a sigh, he withdraws his hand and presses the enter key on the gauntlet. Although the voice is slightly distorted, you can still comprehend its words.

"You are safe here."

The sight of your chest's rise and fall gradually slowing down, accompanied by the subtle narrowing of your eyes in distrust, captures Ahn'thu's attention. He finds solace in the fact that you are not easily swayed by trust, recognizing it as a sign of your survival instincts. With caution in mind, you skillfully slide away from him, ensuring maximum distance before confidently standing up. "Where am I? Why did you take me?"

Ahn'thu's gauntlet and translator struggled to keep pace with your rapid-fire questions, causing him to click in frustration. However, as he began typing something, you paused, eagerly anticipating the voices of various individuals.

"One at a time."

You let out an exasperated sigh and fold your arms tightly across your chest. How ironic it is that these aliens, with their supposedly advanced technology, can't even comprehend a simple conversation. The throbbing ache at the base of your skull intensifies, causing your face to contort in pain. In response, the Yautja takes a step closer, triggering your fight or flight response.

Your body instinctively takes a few steps back, almost losing balance and narrowly avoiding a collision with the cold, unyielding metal wall of the ship once more. Ahn'thu effortlessly closes the distance between you two, reaching out to firmly grasp your forearm and provide the stability you desperately need.

As you take a moment to closely observe it, you can't help but be intrigued by its reptilian skin, adorned with patches of green, black, and dark grey. Surprisingly, its skin doesn't possess the expected rough texture; instead, it feels more like a unique blend of softness and hardness, almost resembling a pliable plastic. Its claws delicately grasp your forearm, ensuring not to harm you.

Although its face remains concealed behind a metallic mask, you can hear the faint sounds of clicks and growls, which you assume to be its language. Startled, you swiftly retract your arm and take a step back, fixing a piercing gaze upon it. "Who are you?" you inquire. The alien meets your gaze with its enigmatic blank mask but then proceeds to type something.

"I am Ahn'thu, I am Elite Yautja Warrior."

You would have trouble pronouncing that, but you decide to give it a try regardless. The sound of your voice attempting to replicate his name brings a hint of amusement to his expression, and he responds with a gentle purr when you pronounce it as accurately as you can.

"What is your name?"

The voices startle you as you hadn't even seen him type it in. You seem wary for a moment, and Ahn'thu backs off, not wanting to push you into sharing if you're not ready. Your eyes reflect a bit of trust now, the stormy pools slowly turning into murky waters. "It's Y/N."

It's silent between the two of you for a moment before your stomach lets out a deep growl, making you place your hands over it with furrowed brows. Ahn'thu takes a step closer, and this time, you don't retreat. "I will feed you."

You slowly and warily take its outstretched hand and jump when he grasps your hand gently, pulling you down the hall. You follow closely, absentmindedly tracing circles on the skin of its palm with your thumb. Ahn'thu remains silent, secretly pleased that he has earned a fragment of your trust. The two of you enter a different room, completely white and almost blinding after the dimly lit corridors of the ship. It takes some time for your eyes to adjust to the stark brightness.

Ahn'thu softly ushers you towards a table, a subtle detail you might have missed if he hadn't guided you to sit down first. You quickly pull away your hand from his hold and give him a stern glare. The Yautja admires your boldness, pleased that you remain cautious - and rightfully so, as you're clueless about his intentions. The cooler uncloaks itself when he steps closer to it and you let out a startled gasp, head tilting. Ahn'thu trills and opens the door, unveiling a selection of exotic fruits from the various planets he's visited. He's tested to make sure that they're safe to eat, the inhabitants of Earth were known for their fragility after all. Ahn'thu returned to the table and sat down, the cooler vanishing from view. You observed the unfamiliar fruits with concern, some appearing intimidating. It was the first time you sought guidance since waking up, your wide human gaze up at him through lashes, showing a hint of trust towards him.

Ahn'thu purrs and grabs one of the fruits, flipping a blade in his hand and slicing it open. He extends a piece towards you, but your attention is completely captured by the fruit's unusual color. The Yautja lets out an impatient huff and reaches up to unhook his mask, causing a hiss to echo throughout the room as the restraints are released.

He braces himself for the typical reaction – a scream, a gasp, a recoil in disgust, or perhaps even a comment on his hideousness – but you defy his expectations. Instead, your human eyes widen with genuine curiosity, your hands instinctively clench at your side, and your fleshy lips form a small 'o' of wonder, devoid of any fear.

Your lips part as you gaze into his deep-set eyes, you can't help but be captivated by their human-like appearance and the profound intelligence they hold. His mandibles, though relaxed, twitch slightly under your careful observation. Intrigued, you lean forward, your eyes filled with soft wonder. Ahn'thu finds your human fascination amusing and decides to indulge in the fruit, carving out a small piece and savoring it. The taste is sweet, leaving a delightful, bubbly aftertaste on the tongue but it isn't unpleasant in the slightest.

As you gaze at him, your eyes widen in astonishment, fixating on his mandibles and teeth. Mesmerized, you observe him chewing effortlessly. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you decide to grab the remaining portion. Carefully, you bring it closer to your lips, making sure to avoid the skin.

A stream of blue juice trickles down your chin as you take a bite, causing a soft gasp of delight to escape your lips. The explosion of sweetness and fizziness on your tongue leaves you in awe. You glance at him, your eyes brimming with wonder, and Ahn'thu clicks in amusement.

With a tantalizing flick of your pink tongue, his amusement gradually subsides. You savor the lingering taste by licking up the remaining juice. Your fingers diligently clean the stickiness off your skin before you devour it, relishing every bite.

Ahn'thu notices your swift completion and offers you his remaining portion. You accept it graciously, taking a gentle bite and sighing in delight at its exquisite flavor. Surprisingly, it not only satisfies your cravings but also leaves you feeling pleasantly full.

The Yautja carefully observes you, taking note as your eyelids grow heavy and your pulse begins to calm. Exhaustion from the day's chaos and frantic running through the corridors has caught up to you. Suddenly, you startle as numerous voices echo in your ears, urging you to rest. Despite your weariness, the idea of drifting off to sleep with a mysterious alien predator lurking nearby is not how you envisioned meeting your end.

Ahn'thu observes as your hair dances around your face while you groggily decline. He desires your comfort, but also knows it's for your own good. The Yautja rises and gently carries you in his arms. Sensing your exhaustion, you offer no resistance, allowing your head to rest on his chest.

He moves cautiously, avoiding any sudden movements. Your gentle breath brushes against his skin, leaving a warm sensation. The worry lines on your forehead and eyebrows have vanished, revealing smooth human skin.

Ahn'thu reaches his room and delicately places you on the bed, watching as you immediately snuggle into the soft furs, inhaling gently. The fabric of your shorts ride up and caress your thighs, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of the soft globes of flesh that had playfully jiggled when you ran away from him. Your ass looks velvety smooth, and he longs to savor the delight nestled in-between your plush thighs.

Suppressing his primal desires, he snarls at his own thoughts and shakes his head, causing his dreadlocks to whip around him. Ahn'thu swiftly turns on his heels and exits the room, making his way back to the meeting chamber to report the encounters with the humans and bad blood.

It takes a few hours for your eyelashes to flutter open completely. The room is cast in shadows, with only a faint light illuminating the doorway. Snug in your cocoon of warmth, you find it hard to part with the soft furs. Sliding out of bed, you approach the door and are surprised by its swift, noiseless opening. Stepping into the hallway, you begin to walk aimlessly, not quite certain of your direction but moving forward nonetheless.

Your movements come to a halt as the indecent cacophony of grunts, clicks, and growls fills the air. Backtracking, you cautiously steal a glimpse into the room, the door barely ajar. A gasp lodges itself in your throat, but you swiftly muffle it with your hand, preventing it from reaching your ears, or rather, his ears.

With eyes widened in disbelief, you watch him forcefully thrust into a contraption resembling a fleshlight, yet possessing an uncanny fleshy texture, reminiscent of the inner walls of a vagina. It drips with viscous neon droplets of cum, a soft hue of pastel green. What astounds you the most is the sheer shape, size, and girth of his cock.

As wide as four of your fingers combined, the length stretches from the tip of your index finger to your wrist. It's not human, which is no surprise since he isn't either, but the shape and texture are mesmerizing. It brings to mind the myriad of 'alien' cocks you've seen on Tumblr.

It shares the same hue as him, but it's noticeably softer than his actual skin. Veins course through it, thick and prominent. Small ridges and nodes decorate it from the top to the bottom, causing you to swallow hard at how slick and warm it seems. The only human aspect about him is the large testicles that hang imposingly underneath his cock.

You peek up at what he's looking at and can't stop the soft gasp from passing through your lips. It was you. Your face on the pornstar, getting fucked roughly by a guy from your planet. Lost in his own world of desire, he remains oblivious to the sound of your gasp, thrusting relentlessly into the device. Unable to control yourself, your hand slips beneath the waistband of your pajama shorts, gliding past the barrier of your panties, and delving into your dewy, swollen folds, slick with your arousal.

Your lower lip disappears between your teeth as a soft moan escapes you, your fingers tracing the outline of your engorged clit. With a delicate touch, you roll it between your fingers, steadying yourself when your knees start to buckle. Your fingers trail past your clit and to your slobbering entrance, hot and clenching against your middle and pointer fingers.

Slowly you ease your fingers into your dripping pussy, eyes sliding shut for a moment as the thickness enters you. You weren't overly sexual when it came to normal living, you didn't really masturbate and most definitely didn't have time for men or sex toys. At the most, you'd rub one out or try a finger or two but that was about it.

You try and imagine that he's behind you, that his thick cock is pummeling into you. Your hands fail to provide the same pleasure, leaving you agitated as you watch his hips move with urgency. Giving up, your fingers leave your cunt with an erotic pop and go back to your sensitive clit, rubbing, pinching, and patting at it.

Your teeth try and stop your lewd moans of pleasure from escaping but you can hear the wetness of your pussy loud in your ears, feel your arousal dripping down your thighs and onto the floor. His thrusts speed up, his claws dig into the padding of the device and he shoved himself inside it once more before roaring out his release.

You had never been able to reach orgasm on demand, not even the commanding voices of men on PornHub instructing you to climax. But the feral, animalistic noise of this alien spilling his seed? It made your knees buckle and your pussy convulse. It was the most powerful orgasm you had ever experienced.

Thighs twitching, you couldn't hide the deep moan that spills past your pretty little lips. The Yautja's head snaps up and he withdraws his cock from the machine, his cum trickling down his thick shaft. Your cheeks are flushed as you rise hurriedly, running down the hall on legs weakened from your orgasm. You locate the room almost instantly and step inside with a sense of anticipation.

Ahn'thu walks over to the broken door ( as it never fully shut ), and opens it completely, his breath finally steadying. He lets out a small sound of confusion before squatting down to examine the tiny pool of cloudy liquid at the entrance.

His fingers dipped into the substance, and a delightful warmth enveloped them, catching him off guard. Raising his hand to his face, he took a deep breath, his body responding with a pleasurable purr to the sweet and slightly spicy scent that wafted from it. Unable to resist, Ahn'thu sensually sucked on his digit, feeling his cock twitch and precum drip.

The taste delighted him, urging him to dip his fingers once more and savor the intoxicating flavor. Standing, he heads back into the room and slips on his clothing. Exiting, Ahn'thu locates the h'dui'se, following like a hound. Unsurprisingly, he finds himself outside of his room. As he enters, he's overwhelmed by the captivating fragrance that surrounds him, suffocating his senses.

The sound of his clicking sends shivers down your spine, causing your body to tremble beneath the soft covers. You instinctively place a hand over your mouth, feeling the warmth of arousal smear across your flushed cheeks. Your thighs clenching tightly together, clit still pulsating from the intense pleasure just moments ago.

Ahn'thu notices your movements but he doesn't confront you, he doesn't want to scare you even more than you already are. With an angry trill, he exits the room, realizing how difficult it is to be in your presence when the scent of your desire lingers in the air, clouding his senses. He seeks solace in another spare room, far away from the intoxicating allure of your essence.

As your eyes flutter open, you find yourself in a state of uncertainty. The absence of windows on the ship leaves you clueless about the time it's what you assume is the next morning. Stepping out of the room, you make a conscious effort to push yesterday's troubles from your mind and begin to explore. Intrigued, you cautiously peer into each door, hoping to find him.

The ship is far too silent, calm– it's only you here. A frown forms on your face, and a sudden surge of fear grips your being. The thought of being stranded alone in an alien vessel, unaware of its destination or potential dangers, sends a shiver down your spine.

As you stumble upon the pristine white room, the very same space where he tantalizingly fed you with succulent fruit, a delicate gasp escapes your lips. Hastily, you scuttle inside, emitting a hiss of discomfort as you accidentally collide with the table, your eyes gradually adapting to the surroundings, discerning its form.

A wave of bewilderment washes over you as you frantically seek out the refrigerator, emitting a low grunt of frustration as you unexpectedly collide with it, as if it materialized out of thin air. With a glimmer of delight, the refrigerator door glides open, revealing a mango, a tantalizing gift from Earth.

You exit the room after searching for the door and head out into the hallway. Without a knife, you're unsure of how to eat the fruit but choose to bite into it, sucking and nipping at the skin until it's cleaned and pulling it from your mouth. As you continue your exploration, you stumble upon the familiar room from the previous night. A surge of desire courses through your veins, causing your cheeks to flush with embarrassment. With sticky fingers, you gently push open the door.

A hum of delight fills the room as you bite into the fruit again, the juice spilling down your chin and neck. You'd have to ask him where the bathroom is if he even had one. Your gaze catches sight of a nearby table, and you delicately place the mango upon it, savoring the opportunity to lick your fingers clean. Slowly, you walk towards the machine, eyeing it.

The remnants of his cum, mingled with his perspiration, have been meticulously wiped away, a part of you wishes it wasn't so you could taste him. As you compose yourself, your moistened fingers glide over the buttons, leaving behind traces of your touch.

The words displayed on the screen remain an enigma, but the images depicted hold your gaze captive. Among them, one bears an uncanny resemblance to your alien. Another portrays a man, while a third portrays a woman. With trembling limbs, you succumb to your curiosity and press upon the image.

The machine instantly illuminates, its intricate mechanisms gliding back and forth at a deliberate pace. A gasp escapes your lips as you instinctively retreat, your heart pounding fiercely within your chest. As the video commences, you find yourself captivated, fixated on the scene unfolding before you. The alien thrusts into the human woman with a primal intensity, their bodies melding together.

Her face is twisted with an unapologetic, wanton pleasure, her eyes rolling back into her skull, and a trail of drool cascades down her chin as he ravishes her. Despite her apparent state of blissful abandon, she begs for more, tooting her rear up, arching her back, and pressing her petite hand against his sculpted abdomen. His low rumblings aren't as deep as your alien's yet they still ignite a pulsating ache within your pussy nonetheless. With flushed cheeks, tousled locks, and quivering thighs, she surrenders herself to his every whim.

You bite down on your bottom lip, drawing closer, fixated on the sight of him disappearing inside her. His size may be slightly smaller than your alien's, but you pause, questioning when that creature had become yours. When did you become comfortable with this arrangement?

The thunderous growl signifies its release, cum painting her insides. The woman appears fatigued, yearning for rest, yet enveloped in an intoxicating pleasure. A shuddering sigh escapes her lips, but she remains helpless, succumbing to moans as he resumes his relentless thrusting.

Your hand ventures downwards, fingers coated in a sticky residue, caressing your throbbing clit nestled between moist folds and layers of fabric. You're firm in your movements, taken aback by the immense pleasure that engulfs you.

Biting your lip, your hand ventures beneath the fabric of your shorts, gliding past the delicate barrier of your panties, until it reaches your throbbing, weeping pussy. The succulent juice from the mango you had earlier coats your sensitive clit as you rub and pinch at it. This time, you abandon all inhibitions, allowing your moans, soft pants, and whimpers to fill the room and your eyes flutter shut.

The sound of her moans intertwines with the rhythmic slapping of his hips against her round ass, becoming the only melody that matters. With your other hand, now free, you trail it up your body, your fingers finding solace on your breasts, expertly pinching and teasing your nipples, mirroring the pleasure the woman is experiencing. The newfound ecstasy consumes you, causing your thighs to tremble uncontrollably, and give out as a desperate whine escapes your lips, your hand drenched in your cum.

An electrifying chill dances along your back, prompting you to rise abruptly. Fingers dart across the buttons, bringing the video to a halt and returning you to the Home Screen. The sensation of not being alone lingers in the air. Withdrawing your hand from your shorts, a glistening trail of desire is left on your stomach and you gracefully exit the room, snatching your mango as you go. Your astuteness guides you effortlessly through the labyrinth of halls, swiftly finding the room.

You let out a gasp as you collide with him, feeling his hand encircle your waist, his knee pressing against your soaked thighs to steady you. Ahn'thu gazes at you, his head cocking as he spots the fruit in your hand. He goes to question you but the warm trail of wetness on his leg makes him click in question. Then the smell of your arousal hits him like a freight train and he growls lowly, almost throwing you over his shoulder and taking you like a beast in heat when your cunt clenches.

In a nimble and tender manner, he elegantly withdraws from your presence, his eyes captivated by the luminous sheen of his leg in the artificial white light. Your human cheeks are adorned with a blush, and from behind his mask, he can perceive the frantic beat of your heart, racing at an exhilarating pace.

The mask translates your soft words. " You're back."

Ahn'thu had set off to pursue the bad blood and had triumphed, bringing back his head as proof. He clicks before typing on his gauntlet, not wanting to startle you too much. "Went to hunt." You bob your head up and down, swallowing thickly. The silence lingers uncomfortably, prompting you to offer him the mango, with the same hand that had brought you pleasure not long ago.

With a swift motion, the Yautja unfastens his mask, causing your eyes to eagerly scan his face. Your breath catches in your throat as he gently seizes your wrist and brings it to his mouth, bypassing the fruit. His mandibles unfurl, revealing their impressive expanse, while his forked, purple tongue sensually caresses your fingers.

A knot of desire intensifies in your belly, and you observe with furrowed brows and tightly clenched thighs. He pulls away and locks eyes with you, tilting his head inquisitively. With flushed cheeks, you swiftly withdraw your hand and head into the room.

In the depths of his being, Ahn'thu is acutely aware of your want for him, as the heady scent of your desire hung in the air, thickening with each tantalizing lick of his tongue against your delicate fingers.

Perched upon his seat, the colossal Predator's thoughts spin like a tempest. Merely moments ago, he stumbled upon the lingering evidence of your delectable mango-drenched fingers upon the Pleasuring Room's machine.

The air was thick with your intoxicating arousal. Intrigued, he delved into the archives of recently viewed videos, only to be taken aback by the unexpected sight. It was of a Yautja and Ooman-di, which hadn't been what he was watching yesterday.

Ahn'thu swiftly made his way to the Pit, reviewing the camera footage, rewinding time, and selecting the Pleasuring Room. He cocks his head when you first enter the room, setting down your fruit and heading over to the machine.

You tap haphazardly and become slightly startled after finally choosing a video, the same one that had recently been watched when he checked. Initially scared, you gradually became captivated by the video, moving closer.

A deep growl emanates from his throat as your hand disappears beneath the fabric covering your lower body. Arm moving relentlessly, and thighs shaking. The Yautja can feel himself growing harder as you find your release, the lewd sound of your wetness filling the air. With a slight pinch of your nipple, you climax, causing Ahn'thu to grasp the arm of his chair to prevent himself from rushing to you.

He reaches to replay the video, intending to watch it again while stroking himself, but he accidentally rewinds too far to the moment he had used the device. Switching the camera to the view outside the door, he pauses, enhancing the video quality and zooming in slightly.

At the door stands your delicate human figure, observing him while you indulge in your own pleasure. Ahn'thu aligns the videos next to each other and emits a satisfied purr as you reach your climax at the same time as him, legs buckling.

He remembers hearing the pretty sound of your voice but didn't realize that you had been touching yourself to him. Ahn'thu watches the two newfound videos and strokes himself to completion, cum painting his body. He can't stop himself from heading to his room where you await with glistening thighs.

Lying sprawled on the bed, a heavy sigh escapes your lips, carrying away the remnants of earlier embarrassment. You had never been so driven by sex before but the thought of an Alien taking you against your will, fucking you mercilessly while you cried from pleasure, had consumed your every thought since you boarded the ship.

Your self-restraint has vanished, as you slide your hand into your shorts for what feels like the umpteenth time. Your swollen clit, already firm and pulsating, eagerly awaits your hard and rapid strokes.

The sound of heavy footsteps in the darkness sent a jolt of awareness through your body. You stiffen, your nipples hardening, and pussy tightening into a clinch. You can hear the breathy, deep growls of the Yautja in front of you. Can hear the deep inhales it takes of your scent. How long had he been there? When had the door opened? You're unsure but accept it with a little reluctance, tensing as his hot breath fans over your face. There's the distinctive sound of a blade being unsheathed before your top is cut open, leaving your breasts to spill out.

“A-ah! Wait, what are yo— mph~” Your breath hitches into a moan as the alien's scalding mouth descends upon your left nipple. His hand ventures boldly between your thighs, seeking out your wet, warm pussy beneath the delicate silk of your shorts.

With his thumb, he applies pressure to the throbbing bundle of nerves beneath the material and rubs at your clit. His teeth softly graze your nipple, sending a surge of pleasure coursing through you, coiling into a tight knot deep within your abdomen. Your hips buck uncontrollably, the waves of ecstasy building until you cry out in bliss as a powerful orgasm crashes over you. This sensation, unlike any self-induced pleasure, is intense, overwhelmingly pleasurable, and leaves you feeling incredibly sensitive.

A scorching inferno engulfs your entire being, setting your senses ablaze. As the Alien materializes before you, your mind spins with a heady mix of anticipation and arousal. His hands, resembling those of a primal reptile, explore the landscape of your body with a possessive hunger, his fingers delicately pinching and tugging your sensitive nipples.

His commanding presence now hovers above you, his large, dome head nestled against your bosom, as his mouth hungrily claims your areola, a dark, sinuous tongue gliding sensually across your taut nipple, leaving a trail of electrifying sensations in its wake, his teeth tantalizingly graze the puckered flesh.

“No, no more!” Tears well up, pricking the edge of your lower lashes, as you defiantly shake your head. Drool escapes your mouth, cascading down your chin, while your feeble hands weakly attempt to push him away. Your hips involuntarily buck as the Predator's hand stealthily slides into your shorts.

A surge of slickness drools from your pulsating core as he expertly parts your folds, effortlessly locating your swollen clit. The coarse yet drenched tips of his fingers expertly manipulate your sensitive nerves, eliciting a chorus of moans and writhing movements. Your hands desperately clutch his wrist, your hips convulsively jerking and twisting in response.

His serpentine tongue finally grants respite to your tender nipple, but instead, it ventures closer to your ear. The gravelly, otherworldly timbre of his voice commands you to cum, causing you to shriek as an intense climax engulfs you. Your entire being convulses as he persistently stimulates your hypersensitive clit.

Only when you emit soft whimpers and desperate pleas does he cease his assault. As your lungs gasp for air and your thighs quiver, you regain your ability to breathe, your eyes widening when you notice the bulging, pulsing thickness of his cock nestled between your calves.

“Please, no. Too big” You whimper softly, trying to roll over onto your stomach and crawl away from him. Ahn'thu ignores your feeble resistance, grabbing your thighs and turning you back onto your back. He spreads your legs apart, bending them towards your chest to expose your messy pussy. With a hungry look in his eyes, he rubs his cock against your wet folds, coating himself in your arousal.

A sense of shame intertwines with an intoxicating thrill, coursing through your veins. You had been wanting to feel his cock deep inside you, to bask in the delightful heat of his cum cascading upon your quivering walls.

With a gentle nudge, the head of his pulsating shaft teases your throbbing clit, and you shudder, biting your lip. The Yautja is well aware of the challenge that awaits, as your tight and seemingly untouched pussy appears small and snug. Your plush lips part, forming a perfect 'o', while the room is filled with the sweet and genuine symphony of your moans.

Lost in the throes of ecstasy, your eyes roll back, providing him with the perfect opportunity to thrust forward, filling you completely with his long cock. The whimper of pain that escapes your lips only intensifies his desire, causing him to jerk involuntarily within you.

Your head writhes against the furs as your lips part to take in a breath, shaking your head once more, palms resting against his toned stomach to push him out of you. “A-ah, s’too big. Take it out!” He goes silent, stilling inside of you, eyes flitting over your tear-soaked face. His chest rumbles in a purr and your pussy clenches deliciously around him.

At the feeling, Ahn'thu's body becomes restless, unable to remain still. Your velvety walls, sticky and warm, possess an irresistible hold on him, refusing to accommodate his size. He watches with awe as your figure arches, your breasts swaying and jiggling with each vigorous thrust.

Already you're fucked silly, the thickness of his cock grinding mercilessly against your g-spot as you find yourself cumming hard and long. Your fervent cunt tightens and throbs around him, leaving a creamy ring of cum on his length.

"More." You sob dumbly and shakily reach down and spread your folds open, watery eyes locking with him and tucking your lip into your mouth, rivulets of drool dribbling down your chin. As the Yautja thrusts into your eager pussy relentlessly, you release a soft whimper, surrendering to the ecstasy that consumes you. The alien's monstrous cock, unlike anything you've ever experienced, fills you to the brim, stretching you in ways you never thought possible.

Your body quivers uncontrollably, yet you strive to regain composure, your breaths heavy and labored. A surge of pleasure electrifies your hips as a teasing finger brushes against your throbbing clit before vanishing. Another finger traces a tantalizing path along your inner thigh, skillfully finding your clit once more, tracing rough figure eights upon the bundle of nerves. Waves of pleasure crash over you relentlessly as your pussy convulses sporadically, each orgasm more intense than the last.

Ahn'thu lets out a primal roar as he spills his seed into your awaiting cunt and keeps it there, maneuvering your body into a mating press. The hot slosh of his cum filling you have you orgasming again and you whimper out his name, back arching. The Yautja looks down at your worn-out form and purrs softly, gently resting his forehead against yours. As your breathing steadies, you drift off to sleep in his arms. He keeps you like that, ensuring his seed finds its place within you, determined to impregnate you with his offspring.

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faebled-stories · 3 months ago

Text

A Night Beyond the Stage

Kinkvember Day 25: Deflowering/Mommy

Red Velvet Irene (Bae Joohyun) x Male reader

TW: Age gap, reader is 19

14k words

AN: The timing of this fic aligning with Irene’s solo comeback is such a funny coincidence. I’ve tailored the story to fit with the excitement of her big moment—hope you enjoy it 💖

The crowd is a living sea of excitement, the lights dimming to signal the start of a moment fans have dreamed of for years. The air hums with anticipation, every breath charged with electricity. Brightly colored banners, lovingly adorned with Irene’s name, heartfelt messages, and slogans, ripple like waves in the soft breeze created by thousands of hands waving light sticks in unison. The synchronized glow bathes the venue in hues of soft red and shimmering white, a radiant tribute to her. You instinctively wave your light stick, matching the crowd’s rhythm as though tethered to the shared devotion filling the air.

You’re one of those fans—a devoted 19-year-old boy, standing near the front of the crowd. For years, you’ve admired Irene’s artistry, her poise, and the quiet yet commanding presence that sets her apart. She’s been your bias since the moment you discovered Red Velvet, captivating you with every performance, every glance, every smile. But tonight is different. This is her night. Her solo comeback. The energy is unlike anything you’ve felt before, and the significance of this moment echoes in the rapid thrum of your heart.

The stage glows with a soft light, and the room erupts as Irene steps into view. She’s radiant, a vision so perfect it feels almost otherworldly. Her outfit sparkles under the spotlights—a sleek, fitted ensemble in deep, jewel-like tones that catch the light with every graceful step she takes. Her hair cascades over her shoulders, glossy and flawless, framing her face in a way that feels too perfect to be real. Her smile is soft yet confident, the kind that somehow feels personal, like it’s meant just for you, even in a crowd of thousands.

Clutching a freshly purchased album close to your chest, your fingers tremble as you grip it tightly. The ReVeluv T-shirt you carefully chose this morning feels almost too bright under the glow of the stage lights, but you wear it proudly, a small token of your devotion. Around you, fans scream and cheer, their voices weaving together into a deafening symphony of love and support. Yet, for you, the sound fades into the background as Irene’s first note cuts through the air. Clear, emotive, and powerful, it sends a shiver down your spine, rooting you in place.

Her performance is mesmerizing. Every move she makes is fluid, every note she sings filled with a kind of vulnerability that feels intimate despite the size of the venue. The air vibrates with her presence, her voice wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The scent of faint perfume and the electric tang of stage smoke mix in the air, creating a sensory backdrop that makes the moment feel surreal. You’re rooted to the spot, utterly captivated, tears stinging the corners of your eyes as the realization hits: you’re witnessing something extraordinary.

When the final note fades and the crowd erupts in a deafening roar, Irene stands still for a moment, soaking in the adoration. Her gaze sweeps across the sea of light sticks and banners, scanning the crowd as if she’s trying to meet every eye. For a brief moment, her eyes seem to land on yours, and your breath catches in your throat. It’s fleeting, and you know it’s probably not meant for you—just a random glance in your direction—but the slight smile that pulls at her lips feels like it’s tied directly to your racing heart. You take what you can get, holding tightly to the illusion of connection in the vastness of the crowd.

As she raises a hand to wave, the gesture is simple but impossibly magnetic, radiating warmth and gratitude. It’s enough to make you feel like you’re the only one she’s looking at, even though you know better. You wave your light stick fervently in response, your heart pounding as though it’s trying to reach her across the distance.

When she finally bows, the crowd’s cheers swell to a fever pitch, the sound thunderous and all-encompassing. She steps back into the shadows of the stage, her figure slowly disappearing as the lights dim. You can barely remember how you managed to stay on your feet, the wave of emotion washing over you threatening to knock you down.

Clutching the album tighter to your chest, you stand frozen for a moment, determined to hold onto the feeling for as long as possible. The memory of her voice, her smile, and the undeniable presence she commands stays with you, a bright, glowing ember burning in your chest. You know this moment—this fleeting connection, imagined or not—will stay with you forever, a reminder of the night she shone brighter than ever.

The crowd gradually settles, but the buzz of excitement remains, rippling through the room like an unspoken connection. The event transitions to the fan interaction segment, and you feel the air shift as Irene takes her seat on the stage. Fans file into neat lines, each holding gifts, albums, and handwritten notes, their nervous energy palpable. Your heartbeat quickens as the line in front of you inches forward, each step bringing you closer to the moment you’ve dreamed of.

You grip your album tightly, the edges pressing into your palms, grounding you as your nerves threaten to take over. Around you, there’s a cacophony of sounds—the chatter of fans in line, the occasional burst of laughter, and the soft hum of background music. Yet, all of it seems distant, muffled by the pounding of your heart. You’ve rehearsed what you want to say countless times, but now your mind feels like a blank slate, wiped clean by the overwhelming reality of being so close to her.

As the fans ahead of you step forward, Irene greets each with her characteristic grace, her warm smiles and soft chuckles filling the space like a gentle melody. Watching her interact, you can’t help but notice how genuine she seems—her gaze attentive, her demeanor effortlessly charming. She accepts every letter, every memento, with a delicate touch, her hands brushing against those of the fans who hand them over. Each small moment feels precious, and your chest tightens with the realization that soon, it will be your turn.

When the fan directly in front of you steps aside, the world slows to a crawl. Irene’s eyes lift, locking onto yours, and the breath catches in your throat. The stage lights frame her like a halo, her features soft yet dazzlingly vivid—every detail etched into your memory. Her expression shifts to one of gentle curiosity as you approach, her lips curving into a small, encouraging smile that makes your legs feel like jelly.

You step forward, gripping the album so tightly now that your knuckles are white. Her presence is magnetic, pulling you in with a force you can’t resist. She’s even more breathtaking up close, her skin glowing as if lit from within. The subtle scent of her perfume, fresh and floral, reaches you, blending seamlessly with the charged air around her. Her hair, perfectly styled yet natural, catches the light in soft waves, framing her face in a way that seems impossibly elegant. Everything about her radiates a quiet confidence, a strength wrapped in warmth.

Your lips part, and for a moment, nothing comes out. The pounding in your chest drowns out everything else, your thoughts a tangled mess. Then, somehow, you find your voice, shaky but audible. “Hi… uh… Irene-noona,” you manage, the words tumbling out awkwardly. Your voice cracks slightly, and you feel your cheeks flush with heat, but her reaction erases any embarrassment. Her smile deepens, her eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that feels impossibly reassuring.

“Hello,” she says softly, her voice smooth and melodic, each syllable grounding and disarming all at once. “Are you having a good time?”

You nod so quickly it’s a miracle your head doesn’t fall off. “Y-yeah! It’s been amazing,” you stammer, clutching the album tighter before awkwardly holding it out for her. “I—I’ve been a fan of yours for… a really long time.”

Her delicate fingers brush against yours as she takes the album, and the gentle contact sends an electric jolt up your arm. You’re sure she notices the way your breath hitches, but if she does, her expression remains serene. “Thank you,” she says, her eyes lifting briefly to meet yours before they focus on the album. Her pen moves fluidly across the glossy surface as she adds her signature. “It means a lot to me that you came.”

You blurt out the first thing that pops into your head, your voice louder than you intended. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything!” Your face flushes immediately, and you scramble to backtrack. “I mean, not just this… I mean, anything you do is worth it. Like, you’re just really… uh, incredible.”

Her lips curl into a small, amused smile, and she tilts her head slightly, as if trying to figure you out. The soft light catches in her eyes, making them sparkle. “You’re sweet,” she says, her tone light and teasing. “Is this your first fan meet?”

You nod vigorously, then clear your throat, trying to compose yourself. “Yes. First time seeing you… like, in person.” Your words come out disjointed, and you wince internally. “I mean, obviously in person. Because otherwise, it’s just… online. Or videos. But now it’s real. Not that the other times weren’t real—”

Her soft laugh interrupts your rambling, and you freeze, realizing just how much you’ve been talking. “I get it,” she says, her tone warm and full of amusement. “You don’t need to explain.”

You bite your lip, nodding sheepishly as your fingers twitch nervously around the album. “Right. Sorry. I just… it’s surreal, you know?”

Her smile softens, and something in her gaze shifts, growing warmer. “Well, I’m glad I get to be part of your first experience,” she replies gently. Her voice feels so personal, so inviting, it’s almost as though she’s speaking directly into your thoughts. “Are you nervous?”

You laugh awkwardly, a dry, choked sound that you instantly regret. “A little,” you admit, your hand moving to the back of your neck in a clumsy attempt to play it cool. “Okay, maybe a lot.”

Her soft laugh feels like a reward, and you swear you see a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Don’t be,” she says, her voice light but carrying an undercurrent of sincerity. “It’s just me.”

“That’s kind of the problem,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. “I mean—not a problem! It’s just you’re, you know, you. And I’m… me.”

Her laugh is more open this time, a genuine sound that makes your heart flip. “And what’s wrong with being you?” she asks, her teasing tone laced with sincerity.

You open your mouth, then close it again, unsure how to respond. “Nothing, I guess,” you mumble, your voice so soft you’re not sure she even hears it.

Her expression softens further, and the simplicity of her next words catches you off guard. “It’s nice meeting you,” she says, and somehow, it feels like the most genuine thing you’ve ever heard.

As she finishes signing, she holds the album out to you, her fingers lingering just slightly against yours as you take it. The sensation is fleeting but searing, and your grip tightens around the album as if it’s the only thing tethering you to reality.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “For everything. Your music, your… everything.”

Her head tilts again, a habit you’re quickly finding endearing. Her eyes meet yours in a way that feels unguarded, and for a moment, it’s as though the chaos of the room has dissolved into silence. “Take care,” she says softly, her smile lingering like an imprint in the air as you step back.

You clutch the signed album to your chest as you move away, every sensation from the past few moments replaying in your mind like a loop. The warmth of her fingers, the sound of her voice, the way her gaze made you feel seen. Each memory burns vividly, etching itself into your heart as one of the most precious experiences of your life.

After your encounter with Irene, you leave the signing area, your heart still hammering from the interaction. The world outside the small bubble of that moment feels oddly distant, like you’re walking through a dream. Clutching your signed album tightly, you wander aimlessly, letting the energy of the lingering fans wash over you. Everywhere you look, posters of Irene smile back at you, her image larger than life and yet somehow still not quite as radiant as she was up close.

You pause by one of the posters and instinctively pull out your phone. The absurdity of the moment hits you as you angle the camera for a selfie, trying to capture yourself next to her glossy image. “As if this could compare to the real thing,” you mutter under your breath, but you laugh softly at your own awkwardness and snap a few pictures anyway.

Other fans, catching sight of your antics, approach with wide smiles, eager to strike up conversations. Their excitement is infectious, and before you know it, you’re swapping stories about your favorite songs, performances, and how incredible Irene looked tonight. For a while, the warmth of shared admiration eases the nervous flutter still lingering in your chest. You even manage to laugh along as one fan reenacts their over-the-top reaction to Irene’s smile during their brief meeting.

But just as you’re starting to feel like yourself again, the easy atmosphere is interrupted by the arrival of a staff member. Her polished, professional demeanor contrasts sharply with the casual energy of the fans around you, and her gaze is sharp as it lands on you.

“Excuse me,” she says, her tone polite but firm, her eyes scanning you as though assessing every detail.

You blink, startled. “Uh… me?” you ask, your voice coming out higher than you intended.

“Yes, you,” she replies, nodding briskly. “Please follow me.”

Your stomach twists into a knot, and a flicker of anxiety sparks in your chest. “Did I… do something wrong?” you ask hesitantly, clutching your album tighter.

“No,” she says, her tone still impassive. “We just need you to come with us. This way, please.”

Her vague response only fuels your confusion, but curiosity outweighs your hesitation. You nod mutely, trailing after her as she leads you toward a side entrance. The farther you move from the bustling crowd, the more the energy of the venue fades, replaced by a quieter, more subdued atmosphere.

The staff member guides you through a discreet door, and you step into a backstage area. The contrast is jarring. The distant hum of fans is replaced by the low murmur of crew members and the soft clatter of equipment being packed away. The air feels cooler here, tinged with the faint scent of stage makeup and metal. Overhead lights flicker dimly, casting long, uncertain shadows along the corridors.

Your pulse quickens with each step, your mind racing to understand what’s happening. Was this a mistake? A misunderstanding? Why would someone like you be brought backstage? The question loops in your head, unanswered, as you follow the staff member down another hallway.

Finally, she stops in front of a small door, slightly ajar, light spilling softly into the hallway. “Please go inside,” she says simply, stepping aside.

You hesitate, glancing at the door with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. “Wait, what’s—”

But before you can finish, the staff member gives a small, polite smile and walks away, leaving you alone. You swallow hard, your palms clammy as you reach for the door and push it open.

The room inside is unexpectedly intimate. The warm glow of ambient lighting reflects off vintage mirrors, casting a golden hue over the elegant draperies and minimalist furniture. The faint scent of her perfume drifts through the air, calming but somehow charged with an undercurrent of mystery.

Your breath catches as your gaze lands on a familiar figure. Irene is standing by one of the mirrors, her back to you, adjusting a few strands of her hair. The sight of her in this quiet, private space feels almost unreal—like stumbling into a dream you hadn’t realized you were having.

She turns slowly, her movements so fluid and deliberate they seem almost choreographed, and when her eyes meet yours, it feels like the air has been sucked out of the room. A physical jolt courses through you, your body instinctively tensing under the weight of her gaze. Her expression is calm, but the glint of mischief in her eyes makes your pulse race. She exudes confidence, yet there’s an undercurrent of something playful—something that sets your nerves on edge in a way you can’t quite describe.

“Hi again,” she says softly, her tone light but with an intimacy that seems to wrap itself around you. The space between you feels charged, the kind of tension that makes the smallest movements seem monumental.

She takes a step closer, her presence magnetic and overwhelming. “I’m glad you didn’t leave right away,” she murmurs, her voice warm but carrying an edge that sends a thrill of anticipation through you.

You swallow hard, managing a shaky nod as you clutch the signed album against your chest like a shield. “I—I didn’t know this was going to happen,” you admit, your voice trembling under the intensity of her gaze.

Her lips curve into a deeper smile, the kind that feels dangerous yet alluring. “Did you hope for it to happen?” she asks, her tone teasing but laced with a gravity that makes your heart stutter.

“I… I don’t know,” you stammer, the words spilling out clumsily. “I mean, I didn’t expect—”

Her laugh is soft and melodic, wrapping around you like a silken thread. “You’re nervous again,” she observes, tilting her head slightly, her sharp eyes studying your face as if she’s savoring your reaction. “You were like this earlier too.”

“I’m not… that nervous,” you blurt out, but your voice betrays you, trembling just enough to make her raise an amused brow.

“Not that nervous?” she echoes, taking another deliberate step closer. The warmth of her proximity washes over you, her presence filling every inch of the space between you. “Then why are your hands shaking?”

Your gaze darts down instinctively, and your stomach twists when you see she’s right. Your fingers tremble as they clutch the album, and you quickly adjust your grip, trying in vain to steady them. “I’m just… overwhelmed, I guess,” you admit, your face burning as you glance back up. “This whole thing is just… so unexpected.”

Irene chuckles softly, the sound low and intimate, sending a shiver down your spine. “Unexpected, hmm?” she muses, tilting her head as though savoring the moment. “Did you not hope for a moment like this? Even a little?”

The weight of her words presses down on you, and your mind scrambles for an answer. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. The silence stretches, her gaze unrelenting, and the way she looks at you feels like she’s peeling back every layer, leaving you exposed.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” she says, breaking the quiet, her voice playful yet carrying an edge that sends heat coursing through you. She lets the words hang for a moment, the corners of her lips curving up just slightly. Then she steps closer, so close now you can feel her warmth like a physical touch. “Tell me something,” she continues, her tone dropping lower, almost conspiratorial. “Have you thought about me before?”

The question spins in your mind, sending your thoughts spiraling. “I—I mean, yes,” you manage to stammer, each word a struggle. “I’m a fan, so of course—”

“No,” she interrupts, her voice steady but with a sharper edge that makes your breath hitch. Her eyes narrow slightly, the teasing glint giving way to something more focused. “Not like that. I mean… have you ever thought about me in a way that’s… more personal?”

The meaning of her words crashes into you, and you feel your face flush hot. “I—uh, I don’t… I didn’t—” The words tangle together, and your voice dies in your throat, leaving you stammering helplessly.

Her smile widens, the satisfaction in her eyes unmistakable. “Relax,” she says, her tone softening, though the teasing lilt remains.

She lets the silence stretch again, her presence consuming every corner of the room as her gaze lingers on yours. Then, with a tilt of her head and a shift in her expression, her voice drops to a softer, almost vulnerable tone. “Do you think I’m sexy?”

The question lands like a thunderbolt, the weight of it knocking the breath out of your lungs. “W-what?” you stammer, your voice cracking slightly under the pressure. “I—I mean…”

Her eyes remain steady, unwavering, as though she’s daring you to answer. “You heard me,” she says simply, her lips curving into a faint smile that feels both inviting and dangerous.

Your mouth goes dry, and the air between you feels impossibly heavy. After a long pause, you finally manage to croak out, “Yes. I—I think you’re… you’re very sexy.”

Her smile deepens, a flicker of excitement lighting her eyes. She steps even closer, the warmth of her body brushing against your arm. Her fingers trail lightly across your skin, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. “Good,” she purrs, her voice low and melodic, dripping with satisfaction.

She pauses, letting the tension between you build before her gaze sharpens again. “You know,” she begins softly, her voice intimate and steady, “it’s okay to be honest with me.”

You blink, struggling to steady your breath. “Honest about… what?” you manage to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her smile turns coy, but the intensity in her eyes only grows. “You’ve thought about me before, haven’t you?” she asks, her voice slow and deliberate, every word rolling off her tongue like honey. “Not just as a fan, but… in other ways.”

Your heart slams against your ribs as you scramble for a response. “I—I don’t know what you mean,” you stammer, though the heat rising to your face makes it clear that you do.

Her soft laugh is low and indulgent, sending a shiver down your spine. “Don’t be shy,” she says, her tone dropping to something more sultry. She leans in slightly, her presence dominating the space between you. “You’ve thought about me while touching yourself, haven’t you?”

The words hit you like a slap in the face, your body going rigid as your mind scrambles to process the question. “I… uh… I…” The words tumble out incoherently, your face burning so hot it feels like it might catch fire.

Her smile widens, her satisfaction evident. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she murmurs, her tone rich with amusement and a hint of something deeper. The flicker of excitement in her expression grows, her eyes bright with the thrill of the moment. “It’s okay,” she adds softly, her voice softening slightly but still charged. “I was just curious.”

The tension in the air is palpable, the intimacy of the moment sinking deeper into your skin as her gaze holds yours unflinchingly. Irene’s lips curl into a faint smile, the kind that sends your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. She tilts her head slightly, her eyes flicking down for the briefest moment before meeting yours again, her expression softening just enough to keep you teetering on the edge of unease and fascination.

“And have you… done this before?” she asks, her voice quieter now, almost gentle.

Your throat tightens as her question lingers in the space between you, its meaning unmistakable. “Done what?” you ask, though your voice betrays that you already suspect where this is heading.

“This,” she replies, her hand gesturing vaguely between the two of you. Her movements are fluid, deliberate, her eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that feels impossible to look away from. “Have you been with someone? Touched someone? Kissed someone?”

Your heart pounds so hard you feel it in your ears, the blood rushing to your face as the words settle over you. The room seems to shrink, her presence consuming every corner of it, making it impossible to focus on anything but her. “No,” you admit finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I haven’t.”

Her expression shifts subtly, a flicker of intrigue passing through her eyes before something deeper—something almost predatory—takes its place. “A virgin,” she says softly, as if testing the word on her tongue, savoring its weight. “That explains so much.”

You feel your breath hitch, your chest tightening as you struggle to respond. The silence between you stretches, thick and charged, every second heavy with anticipation. She takes a step closer, her movements unhurried but purposeful, and her hand lifts, her fingers grazing your cheek with a featherlight touch.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she whispers, her voice like velvet, each word wrapping around you and sinking into your skin. Her thumb brushes gently against your cheekbone, the touch so tender it sends a shiver down your spine. “In fact, I think it’s… beautiful.”

She pauses for a moment, her gaze holding yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. Her lips curve into a soft, almost wistful smile, and there’s a flicker of something unspoken in her expression. “This world,” she murmurs, her tone shifting, almost reflective, “it’s changed so much. People rush through things, chasing fleeting moments without ever stopping to truly feel.”

Her fingers trace a slow, deliberate path along your jawline, her touch grounding yet electrifying. “But you,” she continues, her voice dropping lower, as if she’s sharing a secret meant only for you, “you’re so… pure. So untouched. It’s refreshing, really.

Her gaze darkens, her expression unreadable yet deeply captivating, as though she’s peeling back every layer of your thoughts. “Do you trust me?” she asks softly, her voice barely more than a breath.

You hesitate for a moment, your heart hammering in your chest, but there’s a vulnerability in her question that steadies you. “Of course!...I mean… I think so,” you reply honestly, your voice shaky but sincere.

Her lips curve into a faint smile, one that feels equal parts reassuring and dangerous. “Good,” she murmurs, her voice dipping into something even softer, almost a purr. “Because I’m going to show you things you’ve only dreamed about.”

Before you can process her words, she leans in, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss so gentle it feels like it might vanish if you move too quickly. The warmth of her breath mingles with yours, her scent enveloping you, subtle but intoxicatingly her. Her hand moves to the back of your neck, her fingers threading through your hair as she deepens the kiss, her movements unhurried but deliberate, as though savoring every moment.

Your body freezes at first, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, but her other hand comes to rest lightly on your waist, her touch grounding you. Slowly, you find yourself melting under her, her warmth and presence consuming you entirely. The sound of your uneven breaths mingles with the faint rustle of fabric as she pulls you closer, her body pressing against yours with a natural ease that leaves you breathless.

Every sensation feels heightened—the softness of her lips, the faint tickle of her hair brushing against your cheek, the way her fingers grip you just tightly enough to send a thrill down your spine. Time seems to slow, the outside world dissolving until there’s nothing but the two of you, wrapped in a moment that feels both impossibly real and utterly surreal.

When she finally pulls back, her lips linger close to yours, her breath warm against your skin. Her eyes search yours, her expression a mix of satisfaction and something deeper, something unreadable. “You’re trembling,” she murmurs, her voice tinged with amusement as her fingers trail down your arm. “Are you okay?”

You nod wordlessly, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, the rhythm of your pounding heart almost deafening in the silence. Every nerve in your body feels heightened, attuned to her every movement. Irene’s gaze remains locked onto yours, her eyes lingering with an intensity that leaves you rooted to the spot. She seems to savor the moment, the weight of it stretching as her soft smile transforms into a knowing smirk.

Her hands move with deliberate grace, reaching for the hem of her blouse. The gentle shift of fabric brushing against her skin fills the air, and her voice, low and commanding, cuts through the silence. “Let’s take this off,” she murmurs.

Your breath catches as she slowly lifts her blouse, the smooth motion revealing more of her flawless skin. The dim light of the room casts a warm glow across her body, accentuating the curve of her waist, the soft slope of her stomach, and the graceful line of her shoulders. The air feels charged, every subtle sound—her blouse slipping away, the soft rustle as it lands on a nearby chair—heightened to a point of almost unbearable clarity.

Your eyes widen as she reaches behind her back, fingers deftly unclasping her bra. The delicate garment slides effortlessly from her shoulders, falling away like water, leaving her bare before you. Her skin is smooth, luminous in the golden light, every line and contour of her body exuding confidence and an undeniable allure. The gentle swell of her breasts, the softness of her curves, the way she holds herself with such effortless poise—it all leaves you completely spellbound.

Your chest tightens as you struggle to process the sight before you, your mind stumbling over itself in disbelief. She’s breathtaking, like a vision plucked straight from your wildest dreams, and the sheer reality of the moment sends a shiver racing down your spine. This is happening. She’s here, with you.

Irene’s eyes flick to your face, catching the way your gaze lingers on her, and her smirk deepens, a playful glint lighting up her expression. “You’re a lucky boy, aren’t you?” she teases, her voice rich with amusement and dripping with confidence.

You nod again, dumbly, your throat too dry to form a response. Her words hang in the air, teasing but undeniably true, and the way she steps closer, closing the space between you, only magnifies the sense of intimacy crackling in the room.

Her hands reach for your shirt, her fingers moving with purpose as they work their way down the buttons. Each flick of her fingers sends a jolt of electricity through you, her touch light yet deliberate, igniting your skin with every graze. “Let’s see what you’re working with,” she murmurs, her tone equal parts playful and commanding.

The fabric slides off your shoulders, falling to the floor in a whisper. Her touch lingers for a moment, her fingertips brushing against your collarbone, tracing the line of your chest, before she steps back, her gaze sweeping over you with an approving glint.

Her eyes move slowly, deliberately, taking in every detail of your bare form as though memorizing it. The weight of her attention leaves you feeling exposed but not uncomfortable—there’s something almost reverent in the way she looks at you, her expression softening just slightly as a small smile tugs at her lips.

“Not bad at all,” she murmurs, her voice low and rich with satisfaction. The words are simple, but the way she says them sends a rush of heat through you, her approval a balm to your nerves. Her gaze flicks back to yours, her smirk returning as she leans in closer, her presence overwhelming in the best possible way.

The heat between you was palpable, every breath shared and every touch igniting the tension that had been simmering between you. Irene leaned in, her lips brushing against your neck as she guided you down onto the plush couch, her movements unhurried yet deliberate. The soft cushions pressed against your back, and her warm, bare skin against yours was a sensation so overwhelming it made your thoughts scatter. Her breasts, soft and inviting, molded against your chest as she pressed closer, her body moving with a fluid confidence that left you breathless.

Her presence was intoxicating. Every shift of her weight, every brush of her smooth skin against yours, sent jolts of electricity racing through you. You felt your arousal surge uncontrollably, your body betraying you as you leaked against her thigh. The heat pooling between you was undeniable, impossible to ignore.

Irene noticed immediately, a soft laugh escaping her lips as she shifted, her thigh pressing more firmly against you. Her lips curved into a knowing smile, her gaze dipping briefly before meeting yours again, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Looks like someone’s eager,” she teased, her voice low and sultry, the sound wrapping around you like silk.

Her teasing didn’t stop there. She adjusted her hips slightly, her movement deliberate as she ground against you just enough to make you gasp. The sensation was maddening, her warmth and wetness brushing against you, heightening your sensitivity to every tiny shift and touch. You tried to steady your breath, but the way she looked at you made it impossible.

“I like seeing you like this,” she murmured, her fingers trailing lightly along your jawline. The touch was featherlight, her nails grazing your skin as she studied your face with a mix of amusement and desire. “So vulnerable. So… willing.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, but it was her next move that truly unraveled you. Irene’s lips curled into a smirk as she leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear. “Before we go any further,” she began, her tone dropping to a low, commanding purr, “there’s something I want to hear from you.”

Her fingers tilted your chin slightly, her gaze locking onto yours with a playful intensity that made your heart race. “I want you to call me Mommy,” she said, her voice steady, laced with a confidence that left no room for hesitation.

The words hung in the air, heavy and electrifying. Your breath hitched, your mind racing as you tried to process her request. “M-Mommy?” you stammered, the word foreign on your tongue, your voice shaky as you struggled to say it.

“That’s right,” she murmured, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear as she whispered, “Call me Mommy. I want to hear it.”

Her tone was firm but coaxing, and the raw need behind her words sent shivers cascading through you. You swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing against you as you finally whispered, “Mommy,” barely audible.

Her reaction was immediate. A sharp intake of breath escaped her lips, her hands tightening slightly on your shoulders as her body trembled with excitement. “Again,” she demanded softly, her voice trembling with arousal, her eyes dark with anticipation.

“Mommy,” you repeated, louder this time, the word rolling off your tongue with surprising ease. It felt strange at first, but the way she responded—her thighs trembling, her lips parting slightly, the subtle arch of her back—made it feel right. Natural, even. The connection deepened, the tension between you amplifying in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

“Good boy,” Irene purred, her voice thick with satisfaction and desire. Her hips moved against you again, her wetness brushing against your length, and the sensation made you twitch with need. “You have no idea how good that makes me feel,” she continued, her tone laced with unrestrained pleasure.

Her excitement was palpable, her arousal feeding off your submission to her request. The way she ground her hips against you, her movements becoming more deliberate, made your pulse race, and the soft, breathy moans escaping her lips spurred you on.

As you shifted, positioning yourself over her, a sudden thought struck you. You hesitated, your hands trembling slightly against her hips. “I… I don’t have a condom,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the moment made your confession feel like an interruption.

Irene’s eyes softened, her expression shifting instantly to one of reassurance. She cupped your cheek, her touch warm and firm as she pulled you down, letting your foreheads touch. “It’s okay, baby,” she whispered, her tone soothing yet steady. “Let’s just feel each other. This will be a proper first time.”

Her words washed over you, dissolving the last of your hesitation. The unwavering confidence in her voice and the tenderness in her gaze filled you with a sense of safety you hadn’t realized you needed. You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as she spread her legs wider, welcoming you in with an openness that left you breathless.

You align yourself with her entrance, your body trembling with anticipation. The moment felt impossibly real, every nerve alive with the electric charge of what was about to happen. But as you moved to press inside, you missed—the head of your length slipping against her slick folds instead. A flush of embarrassment washed over you, and you stammered, “S-sorry,” your voice shaky as you avoided her gaze.

Irene let out a soft, melodic laugh, her hand reaching for yours with a gentleness that steadied you. “It’s okay, baby,” she said softly, her voice full of patience and understanding. Guiding you with practiced ease, she adjusted your angle, her touch deliberate and sure. “Here… just like this.”

With her guidance, you slid inside her, and the sensation overwhelmed you instantly, like a tidal wave crashing over your senses. The heat was all-encompassing, a searing warmth that seemed to pull you deeper, while the wet, silken texture of her body wrapped around you, cradling you in a way that felt impossibly perfect. It was as though she had been made for you, every movement drawing you further into a connection you’d only dreamed of. Your chest tightened, and your breath caught, the sheer intensity of the moment rendering you motionless for a heartbeat.

Your mind reeled as the reality of it sank in: you were inside Irene—the woman you had admired from afar for years. The one who had occupied your thoughts, your dreams, your quiet moments of longing. And now, her warmth surrounded you, her body fitting against yours like the last piece of a puzzle you never thought you’d complete. The intimacy was overwhelming, both physically and emotionally, and it took everything in you to steady yourself, to remember to breathe.

Your eyes darted to hers, seeking reassurance, and what you found made your heart swell. Irene’s gaze met yours, her eyes soft and full of tenderness, yet smoldering with desire that sent a shiver down your spine. Her lips curved into a gentle smile, one that held no judgment, only encouragement. She raised her hands to your shoulders, her fingertips brushing lightly against your skin, grounding you in the moment as she whispered, “You’re doing well, baby.”

Her words melted into you, a quiet melody that soothed your nerves and spurred your confidence. Slowly, she shifted, her legs wrapping around your waist in an embrace that drew you closer. The slight arch of her back, the way her body trembled faintly against yours, made the connection feel deeper, richer. Her warmth seemed endless, her body adjusting to yours with a fluidity that felt almost magical.

Each subtle movement of hers—her hips pressing gently into yours, her arms tightening around your back—spoke a language you didn’t need words to understand. The sensation of her, of being completely joined with her, was unlike anything you’d ever imagined. Her skin was hot and smooth under your palms, her breathing soft yet uneven as it matched your own.

“Look at me,” she whispered, her voice soft but commanding. One of her hands cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “I want you to see how good you’re making me feel.”

You obeyed, your gaze locking onto hers. Her expression was raw, unguarded—desire mingling with affection, her lips parting slightly as a soft moan escaped. Her cheeks glowed in the dim light, her skin luminous with warmth as her breaths came quicker, matching your own. Every moment, every movement, felt like it was drawing the two of you closer, deepening the connection in a way that left you both utterly consumed.

“You’re doing so well,” she murmured, her voice like honey, rich and soothing. Her fingers traced the curve of your jaw, her touch soft yet firm, grounding you as your body trembled with anticipation. “Just take it slow. Feel me.”

You began to move, your hips shifting tentatively at first, each thrust deliberate and cautious. Your body quaked with a mix of exhilaration and nervousness, every movement guided by the quiet encouragement in her voice. Irene’s soft moans spilled into the air like a melody, her sounds coaxing you, pulling you deeper into the moment. The way she responded to you—the arch of her back, the way her nails lightly grazed your skin—sent waves of heat through you, spurring you on.

Her eyes caught yours, and a smile tugged at her lips, equal parts reassuring and hungry. She reached up, cupping your face in her hands, and pulled you down into a deep kiss. Her lips moved against yours with a fervent intensity, her hunger unmistakable. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a connection, a melding of desire and trust that left you spiraling.

The sensations were overwhelming—the warmth of her body beneath you, the way her breath hitched each time you moved, the intoxicating taste of her kiss. Every inch of your skin seemed alive, buzzing with electricity as her soft moans blended with the sound of your labored breaths. Your hips faltered, your rhythm breaking as the buildup reached an unbearable crescendo. The heat coiling in your core surged forward, unstoppable, and with one final thrust, you erupted inside her.

The intensity of your release hit you like a tidal wave, your entire body trembling as a raw, primal energy coursed through you. It was nothing like you’d ever felt before—every nerve alight, your mind completely blank save for the sensation of her warmth enveloping you. Your legs buckled beneath you as the strength drained from your body, and you slipped slightly, unintentionally pushing deeper into her. A sharp, unsteady gasp escaped your lips as your entire body shuddered, unable to hold itself up under the sheer force of the moment.

Irene let out a soft, breathy moan as your weight pressed into her, her hands moving to steady you, her touch gentle yet firm. Her fingers trailed along your back, grounding you as your chest heaved against hers, your breaths coming in uneven bursts. The world seemed to tilt, the edges of your vision blurring as the aftershocks rippled through you, leaving you weak and trembling.

“Mommy, I–I’m sorry,” you stammered after a moment, your voice shaky with embarrassment and panic. The realization of what had just happened hit you all at once, and you struggled to lift yourself off her, though your arms felt like jelly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh,” Irene interrupted gently, her fingers brushing against your lips to quiet you. Her touch was warm, reassuring, and her smile, soft and knowing, made your panic ebb slightly. Her expression glowed with a mix of affection and satisfaction, her eyes sparkling as she held your gaze. There was no judgment, only warmth and a hint of playfulness that sent a flicker of heat through your chest. “It’s okay, baby. That was bound to happen.”

Her hand moved to the back of your head, her fingers threading through your hair as she pulled you down to rest against her chest. The rise and fall of her breathing was steady, soothing, a sharp contrast to the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “It just means you couldn’t help yourself,” she whispered, her voice low and dripping with satisfaction. Her words were gentle, but there was a glimmer of something deeper in her tone—pride, even delight.

“And honestly…” Her voice dipped lower, almost a purr as her fingers lightly trailed down your spine, leaving a tingling warmth in their wake. “It makes me feel sexy knowing how much I excite you.”

Her words hung in the air, thick with an electric tension that made your heart race all over again. The confidence in her tone, the way her lips curved into a knowing smile, only magnified the pull she had on you. She shifted slightly beneath you, her body still warm and soft against yours, her every movement exuding an effortless sensuality that left you utterly captivated.

“Feeling this way,” she murmured, her nails lightly grazing your scalp as she held you close, “it’s like you’re showing me exactly how irresistible I am to you. And that… makes me want you even more.”

She leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, her fingers threading gently through your hair. “Don’t worry,” she murmured, her voice a calming balm. “We have plenty of time to work on your stamina.”

Despite her reassurance, your face burned with embarrassment as you slowly pulled out of her. The sensation left you trembling, your heart racing as your eyes fell to the sight of your release seeping from her entrance. The visual was hypnotic—raw and intimate—and it sent an unbidden twitch through your already overly sensitive length. A mix of awe and arousal coursed through you, leaving your thoughts scrambled.

Irene sat up on the couch, her movements unhurried and graceful despite the intimacy you had just shared. Her bare skin glistened faintly in the soft light, her chest rising and falling with her steady breaths. When her eyes met yours, there was no judgment—only a playful glint dancing within them. She leaned back slightly, spreading her legs just enough to hold your gaze captive.

“Don’t look so embarrassed,” she teased, her tone soft but laced with amusement. “We’ve got plenty of time to figure this out.” Her voice carried an air of authority that both comforted and electrified you as she motioned for you to kneel. “Now, come here. Let me teach you how to pleasure a woman.”

The mix of her confidence and warmth quelled some of your lingering nerves, though your hands still trembled slightly as you lowered yourself to your knees. The position felt both humbling and thrilling, your gaze flickering between her face and her glistening folds, still dripping with the evidence of your earlier climax. The scent of her arousal hung in the air, musky and intoxicating, sending another pulse of heat through your body.

She reached out, her fingers brushing against the back of your head before gently cupping it, guiding you closer with practiced ease. Her touch was tender yet firm, leaving no doubt about her control of the moment. “Don’t overthink it,” she murmured, her lips curling into a reassuring smile that sent a spark of courage through you. “Just follow my lead.”

The moment your lips met her warm, slick folds, your senses were flooded. The taste was intense and impossible to describe—earthy, musky, and utterly intoxicating. It was primal, a flavor that ignited something deep within you, rendering the nervous chatter in your mind silent. All that remained was the overwhelming need to please her, to feel her body respond to your touch.

“Good,” Irene breathed, her voice soft and laced with pleasure. “Now, use your tongue to tease me. Start with light strokes… right there.”

You followed her instructions carefully, your tongue moving tentatively at first, flicking gently against her entrance. The wet heat of her arousal coated your tongue as you explored her, drawing soft sighs of approval from her lips. Her hand remained steady on the back of your head, her fingers threading lightly through your hair as she guided your movements.

“Press a little harder,” she murmured, her hips shifting slightly against your mouth. Her voice was patient but tinged with desire, every word spurring you on. “Yes, just like that. Now move up… here.”

She pointed to her clit with one hand, her fingers brushing it lightly to show you exactly where to focus. You obeyed, your lips wrapping around the sensitive nub as your tongue began to flick against it in slow, deliberate movements. The effect was immediate—her thighs trembled slightly, and a low moan escaped her lips, rich and unrestrained.

“That’s it,” she gasped, her voice catching as her head tilted back. “Keep going. Don’t stop.”

The weight of her praise lit a fire inside you, driving your movements to become bolder and more confident. Your tongue traced circles around her clit, alternating with quick flicks that matched the rhythm of her shallow, rapid breaths. Her body responded in ways that left you in awe—her hips shifting, her thighs trembling, her breathing growing heavier with each moment.

“Use more pressure here,” she urged, her voice breaking slightly with urgency. “Yes… just like that. Now flick… mmm, perfect.”

Her moans grew louder, her hands gripping your hair—not to guide you, but to anchor herself as the sensations overwhelmed her. The tremble in her thighs intensified, her body tightening as your tongue worked her closer to the edge. Her nails pressed lightly into your scalp, her hips rocking in time with your movements as she lost herself in the rising pleasure.

The rhythm of her moans and the way her body reacted filled you with a sense of accomplishment, a primal pride that pushed you to keep going. You adjusted, moving with her as your tongue worked in unison with her rising need, tracing every sensitive spot she pointed out. Her thighs quaked against your cheeks, her voice becoming a mix of gasps and cries as you brought her closer, her pleasure radiating through every part of you.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, her voice breathless and tinged with desperation. Her hips began to move instinctively, grinding against your mouth, her rhythm purposeful and commanding. The slick warmth of her folds pressed firmly against your lips, her arousal coating your tongue as the taste and scent of her overwhelmed your senses. Every soft cry, every tremble of her thighs, spurred you on, pushing you to match her urgency.

Her moans grew sharper, raw and unrestrained, her control slipping as her body chased its breaking point. Her hips bucked harder, grinding against you, her movements becoming erratic as you pressed your tongue harder against her clit. You flicked and sucked with everything you had, fueled not just by the pleasure radiating from her but by the sheer pride swelling in your chest. This was Irene—the idol you had adored for years—and you were the one unraveling her, the one reducing her to this trembling, vulnerable state.

Her thighs clenched around your head, her hands tangling in your hair as her moans became cries, each sound sharper and more desperate than the last. You felt the tension building in her body, every shift of her hips, every quiver of her muscles driving her closer and closer to the edge. The knowledge that you—someone so inexperienced—were capable of drawing this level of pleasure from her only deepened your determination.

“I’m so close,” she gasped, her voice breaking as her back arched off the couch. Her tone was raw, almost pleading, as she clung to the final threads of control. “Don’t stop… don’t you dare stop.”

Her words hit you like a command, and you obeyed without hesitation, moving with a purpose that mirrored her rising need. Her body tensed beneath you, her thighs trembling violently against your face as the tension inside her finally snapped. With one final, desperate grind, Irene cried out—a raw, guttural sound that filled the room. Her body arched as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, her muscles pulsing and quivering against your mouth as her orgasm consumed her.

The moment was mesmerizing, intimate, and deeply humbling. As she came apart in your hands, you felt an immense swell of pride, the realization hitting you with staggering force: you had done this. You had brought her to this peak. The woman you’d admired for so long, this untouchable vision of perfection, was utterly undone because of you.

Her grip on your hair tightened briefly, her fingers threading through it as though to steady herself, before her hands fell away, her body collapsing back onto the couch in a state of complete surrender. You pulled back slightly, your lips and chin glistening, your own breath ragged as you took her in. Irene was a vision—her flushed cheeks, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, the faint sheen of sweat glistening on her skin. She was beautiful, vulnerable, and utterly yours in that moment.

As her breathing steadied, her eyes fluttered open, her gaze softening as it met yours. A satisfied smile spread across her lips, a mix of pride, affection, and something deeper flickering in her expression. She reached out, her fingers brushing tenderly against your cheek, her touch leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

“Good boy,” she murmured, her voice low and sultry, each word dripping with satisfaction. Her praise sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through your body, your heart pounding with both pride and awe. The fact that she—your idol—was praising you, calling you her “good boy,” only deepened the intimacy of the moment.

“You’re a fast learner,” she added, her tone laced with both amusement and pride. But as her smile widened, there was something else in her gaze—possessiveness, a quiet but unmistakable sense of ownership. She loved knowing that she was your first and only, the one who had drawn this effort, this passion, from you.

“You know,” she murmured, her fingers tracing your jawline as she leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping lower. “I love how no one else has ever seen you like this, felt you like this.” Her lips curved into a smirk as her fingers trailed down to your chest, lingering there as she added, “And no one else will.”

Her possessiveness was subtle but undeniable, a claim spoken through her touch, her gaze, and the way her words wrapped around you. The thought of being hers, of belonging to her in this way, sent a thrill through you that mingled with the lingering pride of having brought her so much pleasure.

As her eyes drifted downward, her smirk deepened. She noticed your arousal, now fully hardened again, throbbing with renewed energy despite the intensity of what you’d just shared. Her confidence radiated as she leaned back slightly, her movements unhurried, her body still glowing in the aftermath.

“Well,” she said, her voice teasing but filled with promise, her fingers trailing down your chest, “it seems like you’re ready for round two.” Her tone carried the same mix of pride and playful dominance that left you completely captivated, her gaze holding yours with an intensity that made your heart race all over again.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing, but the sight of Irene—her body still glowing, her skin flushed, her lips curled into a satisfied yet teasing smile—only drove your need higher. Her eyes, half-lidded but sharp, seemed to drink you in, a mixture of pride and hunger swirling within them. It was a look that sent a jolt through every part of you.

You knelt before her, determination and longing fueling your every move. “Mommy, let me try again,” you said, your voice low but trembling with nervous excitement. The smirk that spread across her lips deepened, her gaze sweeping over you in a way that made your skin tingle, as if she was already savoring what came next.

“Redemption, huh?” Irene teased, her sultry tone wrapping around you like velvet. She leaned back slightly, her hands trailing up your arms, encouraging and expectant. “Alright, baby. Show me what you’ve learned.”

Her legs parted gracefully, welcoming you in, and the heat radiating from her folds drew you closer, your arousal throbbing at the sight of her. You positioned yourself carefully, hovering above her, your hands steady on her hips as her fingers traced idle patterns along your arms. Every touch, every look she gave you felt like both a challenge and an invitation.

This time, you were resolute. With a slow, deliberate motion, you slid inside her, her tight, slick warmth enveloping you completely. A shuddering gasp escaped your lips at the sensation, the overwhelming pleasure igniting every nerve in your body. Irene’s head fell back against the cushions, her eyes fluttering shut as a soft moan slipped from her lips. Her hands gripped your shoulders, grounding herself as her body adjusted to your presence.

You began to move, your hips rolling in slow, steady thrusts, savoring every inch of her. Each motion elicited a quiet sound of approval from her, her breath hitching slightly as you set a confident rhythm. The connection between you grew with every movement, the sound of her quiet moans filling the space, spurring you on.

Then, an idea struck you—a bold impulse born of your longing to see her completely undone. Lowering your head, you brushed your lips against the curve of her breast. Irene’s eyes opened briefly, her breath catching in surprise, but she didn’t stop you. If anything, the slight arch of her back told you to keep going. Your tongue flicked over her nipple, teasing it with light strokes before pulling it gently into your mouth.

“Ah—” The sound she made was sharper than before, a soft cry that sent a thrill coursing through you. Her nails dug lightly into your shoulders, her body responding instantly to the new sensation. “Oh… good boy,” she breathed, her voice trembling with pleasure as your tongue circled her sensitive bud.

The pride in her voice ignited something deeper within you, driving your lips and tongue to lavish her other breast with equal attention. You alternated between gentle nibbles and slow, deliberate flicks of your tongue, watching as her chest rose and fell more erratically. Her reactions spurred you on, her soft gasps and low moans growing louder with every touch, every kiss.

“You’re full of surprises,” she murmured, her voice rich with approval but laced with a faint edge of possession. The way you explored her body, your eagerness and growing confidence, made her heart race. The thought that she alone had awakened this side of you, that no one else would ever know this version of you, filled her with a fierce pride that only deepened her desire.

After a few more languid thrusts, you felt yourself nearing the edge again, the tight heat of her body pulling you dangerously close. But this time, you pulled out, your resolve firm. Lowering yourself between her legs, you replaced your length with your tongue, eagerly lapping at her folds to keep her pleasure building. The slickness of her arousal coated your lips, the intoxicating taste spurring you to push past your own limits.

“Fuck…. Such a good boy,” she gasped, her fingers tangling in your hair as you worked her clit with focused precision. The way her hips bucked against your mouth, her breath catching with each flick of your tongue, filled you with a pride that matched her own. You wanted her to feel everything, to give her every ounce of yourself.

Her moans grew louder, her voice tinged with desperation as she clung to the edge. “Yes… just like that,” she panted, her body trembling as you brought her closer again. “Don’t stop, baby.”

When you felt ready once more, you rose above her, positioning yourself carefully. Irene’s legs wrapped around your waist, drawing you in as you slid back inside her. Her moan this time was deeper, her nails dragging lightly down your back as you set a steady rhythm. The wet, slick friction was overwhelming, but you were determined to match her pace, to give her everything she deserved.

As your thrusts quickened, you dipped your head again, your mouth capturing her nipple once more. The unexpected move made her gasp sharply, her back arching into you as her hips met yours in perfect rhythm. “Oh—yes,” she cried, her voice raw and unrestrained. The mix of sensations—your tongue on her breasts and your length driving into her—pushed her closer, the sounds of her pleasure creating a symphony that left you both breathless.

Her body tightened around you, her warmth and the sheer intensity of the connection sending you spiraling toward your own release. The way she moaned your name, the way her hands gripped your arms as if she couldn’t let you go, made you feel both powerful and completely hers. Every motion, every sound, every shared breath between you deepened the bond, leaving you utterly captivated by her and the moment you had created together.

“Mommy,” you murmured instinctively, the word slipping from your lips as if it were the only thing anchoring you to reality. Her name carried the weight of your longing, your admiration, and the raw intensity of the moment. The sound of it filled the air between you, intimate and charged.

The effect on her was immediate. Her eyes snapped open, locking onto yours with a look of wild hunger that sent a shiver down your spine. Her lips parted slightly, a soft gasp escaping as her body responded to the sound of her name. “Say it again,” she demanded, her voice trembling with need, thick with desire.

“Mommy,” you repeated, your voice rough and fervent, the syllables tumbling out with an urgency that mirrored the heat building between you. “You feel so good.”

Her reaction was electric. Her back arched off the couch, her nails digging into your shoulders hard enough to leave faint crescents in your skin. The way her body clenched around you, pulling you deeper with every thrust, made your pulse pound in your ears. Her moans became louder, more urgent, the sound of her pleasure igniting something primal in you.

The way she responded to you—her gasps, the tremor in her thighs, the flush spreading down her chest—filled you with an overwhelming sense of pride. You could see it in her face, the way she lost herself in you, and it made your heart race with the knowledge that you were the one drawing this from her. You moved faster, the rhythm of your hips frantic now, your control slipping as the tension coiled tighter inside you both.

“Mommy, I’m close” you groaned again, the title spilling from your lips like a prayer. Each time you said it, her reaction grew more visceral, her body tightening around you, her cries reaching new heights.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, her hands cupping your face as she pulled you down into a kiss that left you breathless. Her lips moved against yours with desperate hunger, the connection between you electric. Her taste, her scent, the warmth of her skin—all of it consumed you entirely, blurring the edges of the world around you.

“I’m so close,” she whispered against your lips, her voice trembling with vulnerability and urgency. Her body trembled beneath you, her hips meeting yours with unrestrained fervor.

“Me too,” you panted, your forehead pressing against hers as your thrusts grew erratic, the tension in your core threatening to snap. The sound of her voice, the way her body clung to yours—it was overwhelming, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Her release came first, a sharp cry of ecstasy tearing from her lips as her body convulsed around you. The sound was raw, unrestrained, and it echoed in your ears, sending a jolt of electricity straight through you. The way her inner walls clenched and pulsed rhythmically around your length was unlike anything you had ever experienced—an intoxicating mix of heat and pressure that made it impossible to hold back. Her thighs trembled violently, tightening around your waist as though she were anchoring herself to you in the overwhelming storm of her pleasure.

Her back arched sharply, her chest pressing against yours as wave after wave of ecstasy wracked her body. You could feel every shudder, every tremble, her body’s response drawing you deeper into the moment. Her hands gripped at your shoulders, her nails biting into your skin as though she couldn’t contain the sheer force of it. Each convulsion, each flutter of her body around you, only intensified the sensations coursing through you, pulling you closer to the edge.

“That’s it,” she purred, her voice a sultry whisper as she let her body sink deeper into the couch. “Fill mommy up. You’ve been so good for me.”

The sight of her—her head tilted back, her lips parted as breathless moans spilled from her, her skin flushed and glowing in the dim light—was enough to send you spiraling. You felt your own release building, coiling tighter and tighter until there was no holding back.

Your release surged through you, your body shaking as you spilled into her, the waves of pleasure crashing over you both in perfect unison. The shared intensity was overwhelming, each of you amplifying the other’s climax in a way that made it feel infinite, boundless. Your hips moved instinctively, prolonging the moment, the friction and heat drawing out every last shudder of ecstasy.

Her arms wrapped around you as you collapsed against her, your bodies slick with sweat and trembling in the aftermath. The soft rise and fall of her chest beneath you, the gentle rhythm of her breathing mingling with yours, created a cocoon of warmth and intimacy. Irene’s fingers traced lazy, soothing patterns across your back, grounding you as your heart began to slow. The scent of your combined musk lingered in the air, adding to the intimacy of the moment.

“Pretty good for your first time,” she murmured softly, her voice tinged with satisfaction and a lingering huskiness. There was pride in her tone, but also something deeper—an affection that made your chest tighten. Her hands slid into your hair, cradling your head against her as she pressed a tender kiss to your temple.

You shifted slightly, lifting your head just enough to meet her gaze. Her eyes sparkled with serene contentment, her expression relaxed but teasing as her fingers brushed through your damp hair. “So,” she murmured, her voice warm and playful, “how does it feel to finally cross that line?”

Your cheeks flushed, but the words came easily, carried by the warmth of the moment. “It’s… indescribable,” you admitted, your voice soft but earnest. “Because it was with you. Never in a million years did I think this would happen.”

Unable to resist, you leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss to her shoulder, your lips savoring the softness of her skin. The quiet intimacy of the moment wrapped around you like a protective shield, the glow of your shared connection filling the room with a warmth you never wanted to fade. Her hand found its way to the back of your neck, her fingers lightly stroking your skin as she held you close.

As the intensity of the moment began to ebb, you collapsed fully against her, your chest pressing against hers as her arms wrapped protectively around you. Her fingertips brushed tenderly through your hair, each motion laced with affection. “Good boy,” she murmured, her voice soft and full of praise. “You made mommy feel so good… I’m proud of you.”

Her words sent a fresh wave of warmth through you, the sincerity in her tone soothing any lingering nerves. You remained pressed against her, your bodies entwined in the afterglow of your shared release. Her soft breaths ghosted against your ear, each exhale a tender reminder of the closeness you had just shared. Slowly, her hands began to move again, tracing gentle, soothing strokes along your back. Her touch was light but steady, radiating a quiet affection that anchored you to the moment.

The high of your climax still lingered in the air as your breathing slowed and synced with hers. Irene’s arms remained securely wrapped around you, her fingers drawing delicate patterns along your spine. The warmth of her skin against yours, the steady rhythm of her breathing, and the faint hum of satisfaction in her chest created a cocoon of intimacy that made the rest of the world feel far away.

After a long pause, her voice broke the silence, quiet but firm. “I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” she said suddenly, her fingers stilling as she lifted your face to meet her gaze. Her expression was calm but serious, her eyes searching yours as though seeking a promise. “I mean it. I’m not letting you go after tonight.”

Her words sent a jolt through you, and your chest tightened as you processed the weight of what she was saying. “Me too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want to stay with you.”

Her lips curved into a soft smile, her eyes shimmering with a mix of relief and affection. “Good boy,” she murmured, her tone gentle but laced with pride. “Let’s go to my place, then. I want you there. With me.”

Her words sent a surge of excitement through you, a mix of nerves and disbelief swirling in your chest. Irene’s house—her personal space, her sanctuary—it was something you’d only ever dreamed of seeing. But the warmth in her eyes and the soft, grounding pressure of her hand on yours erased any hesitation.

She helped you dress, her movements unhurried and deliberate, her quiet confidence calming your racing thoughts. Once ready, the two of you stepped out into the cool night air. The hum of lingering fans still filled the space outside, their energy a sharp contrast to the quiet intimacy you’d just shared. Irene tugged a cap low over her face and adjusted her mask to obscure her features, her elegant jawline and sharp eyes barely visible beneath her disguise. But even with her face half-hidden, her presence was unmistakable to you.

The crowd wasn’t massive, but it was enough to make your chest tighten with worry. What if someone spotted her? The thought made your pulse quicken, and you instinctively glanced over at her. She caught your gaze, her eyes softening as she squeezed your hand lightly. “It’s fine,” she murmured, her voice calm but encouraging. “Just stay close to me.”

You nodded, but the nervousness lingered, your mind racing with the thought of her being recognized. Then, without really thinking, you tightened your grip on her hand, an idea sparking in your chest. “This way!” you whispered, breaking into a grin as you gently pulled her along a quieter path.

She blinked, momentarily surprised, before a soft laugh escaped her lips. Irene allowed herself to be led, her steps quickening to match your pace. You darted through the dimly lit side alleys, ducking past clusters of fans and steering her confidently through the maze of the venue’s surroundings. Every so often, you glanced back at her to make sure she was keeping up, your boyish energy bubbling over in a way you couldn’t suppress.

She didn’t say much, but the amused twinkle in her eyes was impossible to miss. The spontaneity of your actions, the way you move with purpose yet couldn’t hide your youthful excitement—it caught her off guard in the best way. She hadn’t expected this side of you, and it made her chest tighten with an unfamiliar warmth. Her lips curved into a soft smile as she let you take charge, the simple joy radiating from you pulling her in further.

“You’re really into this, huh?” she finally said, her tone light but carrying a teasing affection.

You glanced back, your grin sheepish but bright. “Just trying to keep you out of the spotlight,” you replied earnestly, your voice slightly breathless from the adrenaline of it all.

Irene shook her head, her smile deepening. “You’re cute,” she murmured, her voice almost to herself. The way you darted through the shadows, focused yet visibly buzzing with excitement, made her want to laugh—but not in mockery. There was something so genuine about your energy, so pure, that she found herself falling for it without even realizing.

When the two of you finally reached her car, you opened the door for her with an almost comical nervousness, as though you were escorting royalty. She chuckled softly as she slid into the driver’s seat, watching you fumble slightly with your seatbelt before settling in beside her. The sleek interior of her car was exactly what you’d imagined—elegant, understated, and carrying the faint scent of her perfume. You tried to stay composed, but the reality of being in Irene’s car hit you all at once.

“This is amazing,” you muttered, your voice half in awe. “I mean… your car. I can’t believe I’m here.”

Her eyes flicked to you, amusement tugging at her lips. “It’s just a car, baby,” she teased, though there was a warmth in her tone that made your cheeks flush.

“Yeah, but it’s your car,” you replied, barely able to contain yourself. You glanced out the window as the city lights blurred into streaks of color, your thoughts spinning as you tried to process everything. “I never thought I’d—this is just… insane.”

Irene smiled quietly, shaking her head as she returned her focus to the road. “Relax,” she said, her voice gentle but teasing. “We’re almost home.”

The journey passed in a surreal haze for you, but for Irene, it was something else entirely. She kept stealing glances at you out of the corner of her eye, watching the way your awe slowly slipped out in small, unguarded bursts. The way you ran your fingers lightly over the seat belt strap as if to confirm it was real, the way you gazed out the window with wide eyes, taking in every detail like you were living a dream—it all tugged at something deep inside her. She didn’t say much, but her heart softened with every moment, the quiet joy you radiated making her smile more than she realized.

When the car finally pulled into her driveway, your breath hitched. Her house was grand yet understated, its sleek lines illuminated by the soft glow of the outdoor lights. The manicured garden added a touch of warmth, the entire scene exuding Irene’s elegance. You barely managed to follow her inside, your steps faltering as you took in your surroundings.

Inside, the awe only deepened. Photos of Irene adorned the walls, each one more striking than the last. You paused in front of one—a candid shot of her backstage, her face lit up with laughter—and your chest tightened. Her house felt so unmistakably her, a blend of sophistication and comfort that made every corner feel like an extension of her personality.

“This is…” you began, your voice trailing off as you struggled to find the right words.

“Overwhelming?” she teased, her tone light as she watched your reaction.

You nodded, laughing nervously. “Yeah. It’s just so… you.”

Her smile softened, and she stepped closer, her hand brushing lightly against yours. “You’re so cute,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a hint of pride. Her eyes lingered on you for a moment before she tilted her head toward the hallway. “Come on, baby. Let’s get comfortable.”

She led you to her bedroom, and your breath caught as the door opened. The space was stunning, every detail carefully curated to reflect Irene’s elegance and warmth. The soft glow of ambient lighting bathed the room in a golden hue, highlighting the muted tones of the walls and the understated luxury of her furniture. Her bed, draped in soft, inviting fabrics that looked as though they’d been handpicked for comfort and sophistication, seemed impossibly large and welcoming. The faint scent of citrus lingered in the air, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Each step closer made the nervous excitement bubbling inside you intensify.

Irene guided you gently toward the bed, her touch firm yet tender as her fingers brushed against yours. There was something unspoken in her movements—a quiet confidence that reassured you as she tugged you closer. “Come here,” she murmured, her voice soft and steady, laced with an affection that sent warmth flooding through your chest.

She perched on the edge of the bed, her movements fluid and deliberate, and pulled you down beside her. Her arms wrapped around you easily, holding you close. Her hand found its way to your hair, her fingers threading through it as she began stroking gently, the repetitive motion grounding you. “Relax, baby,” she whispered, her voice low and soothing. “You’re home now.”

You leaned into her touch, the weight of her arm around your shoulders anchoring you. The warmth of her body, the steady rhythm of her breathing—it all felt so calming, so intimate. Then she shifted slightly, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze.

“You trust me, don’t you?” she asked softly, her eyes searching yours.

You nodded, the sincerity in her tone and the softness of her expression easing the nervous flutter in your chest.

“Good.” Her lips curved into a faint smile as she stood, her movements graceful and unhurried. She reached for the hem of her blouse and, without breaking eye contact, pulled it over her head in one fluid motion. The sight of her bare skin left you breathless. Even though you’d just shared the most intimate of moments with her, the sheer beauty of her still made your pulse race.

Irene’s fingers moved deftly, unhooking her bra and letting it fall to the floor. Her chest was fully exposed now, her skin glowing softly in the warm light of the room. Your eyes couldn’t help but linger, drinking in every detail as though it were the first time. She noticed your gaze and let out a soft, amused laugh, her lips quirking into a playful smile.

“Still staring?” she teased gently, her voice carrying a note of affection that sent warmth rushing through you. “You’ve already seen everything, baby.”

“I… I can’t help it,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “You’re just…”

“Perfect?” she finished for you, her smile widening slightly as she stepped closer. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” Her tone was playful but tinged with a quiet pride.

She reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. “Your turn,” she said, her voice soft but insistent. “Strip for me”

Your hands trembled slightly as you obeyed, pulling off your shirt and kicking off your shoes before working on your pants. The nervous excitement from earlier had returned in full force, your heart pounding as you stood before her in nothing but your boxers. She watched you with an intensity that made your skin tingle, her gaze unrelenting yet warm.

“Good boy,” she murmured, her voice low and satisfied as she took your hand and guided you closer. “Now, come to bed.”

The invitation in her voice made your chest tighten, and you followed her lead, climbing onto the plush mattress as she settled beside you. The softness of the bed cradled you, and Irene’s warmth as she pulled you into her embrace was both soothing and electrifying. Her hands found their way to your hair again, her touch gentle but deliberate as she stroked slowly.

“Let mommy take care of you,” she murmured, tilting your face toward her chest. Her fingers brushed your jaw, her touch tender but insistent. “Suckle.”

The word hung in the air, intimate and commanding, and your heart thudded in your chest as her gaze met yours. There was no hesitation in her eyes, only a quiet reassurance that melted away your nerves. Slowly, you pressed your lips against her, your mouth opening as your tongue brushed against the softness of her skin. The warmth of her breast was overwhelming, its tenderness enveloping you completely as you latched instinctively.

“That’s it,” she cooed, her voice soft and melodic, a lullaby just for you. Her hand returned to your hair, her fingers stroking through it in a gentle rhythm that matched her breathing. “Good boy. Just relax now.”

As you began to suckle, a wave of calm washed over you. Each slow, deliberate pull of your mouth deepened the connection between you, the act soothing you in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Her skin was warm and impossibly soft against your lips, the faint mixture of her musk and the lingering traces of her perfume filling your senses with every breath. The world outside dissolved, replaced by the steady rise and fall of her chest, her heartbeat thrumming softly in your ear, and the gentle hum of satisfaction vibrating in her throat.

Irene’s fingers continued their rhythmic strokes through your hair, her touch grounding you in the moment. Each sweep of her fingertips sent a tingling warmth through your scalp, a sensation that soothed the last vestiges of nervous energy. You let out a soft, involuntary sigh, your body sinking further into her embrace. Your limbs grew heavy with relaxation, your breathing naturally syncing with hers as you nestled closer.

For Irene, the moment was nothing short of exquisite. Every gentle pull of your mouth sent a ripple of warmth through her chest, a soft but insistent tug at something deeper within her. The sight of you, vulnerable and utterly trusting in her arms, filled her with a heady mix of pride and satisfaction. Your quiet dependence, the way your head rested against her so naturally, ignited an indescribable sense of fulfillment.

Her breath hitched slightly, the intimacy of the act stirring an unfamiliar but welcome heat in her core. Her nipples, already sensitive, responded to the gentle pressure of your mouth, the warm pull sending shivers of pleasure down her spine. She tilted her head back slightly, her lips parting as a soft, almost inaudible sigh escaped her. The mixture of the physical sensations and the emotional connection was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

“You’re mine,” she whispered, her voice low and possessive, the words brushing against the top of your head like a promise. Her lips pressed a lingering kiss to your hair, the act both tender and claiming. “No one else will ever have this.”

The conviction in her voice wrapped around you, comforting and commanding all at once. Your movements slowed, the gentle rhythm of your suckling growing lazier as the soothing comfort of her embrace lulled you further into a haze of peace and safety. Her hand, still stroking your hair, pressed with just enough firmness to make you feel securely tethered to her.

Irene closed her eyes for a moment, letting the sensations wash over her. The warmth of your body against hers, the subtle vibrations of your breathing, and the soft sounds you made created a cocoon of intimacy she didn’t want to end. Her fingers moved from your hair to trace the curve of your cheek, her touch light and lingering, as if she couldn’t resist savoring the moment.

“Sleep, baby,” she murmured, her voice soft but steady, thick with affection. “You’re safe here… with me.”

The words settled over you like a blanket, and with them came an overwhelming sense of peace. The glow of the room, the steady hum of her voice, and the enveloping warmth of her body surrounded you completely. Each pull of your mouth became slower, more relaxed, as the last remnants of tension melted away.

For Irene, the sight of you—so content, so utterly hers—stirred something deep within her. The possessiveness she felt was matched by an aching tenderness, the realization that you had given her something so precious and irreplaceable. She cradled you closer, her hand resting protectively on your back as her lips brushed another gentle kiss to your forehead.

As your breathing evened out and sleep claimed you, Irene watched you with quiet reverence. The weight of your trust, your vulnerability, filled her with a sense of purpose she hadn’t known she needed. Together, wrapped in the glow of the moment, she knew this wasn’t fleeting. It was the start of something profound, something she would hold onto with everything she had.

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #girl group smut #reader insert #male reader #kinkvember #kinkvember 2024 #red velvet #red velvet smut #irene #irene smut #red velvet irene #red velvet irene smut #bae joohyun #bae joohyun smut

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meowtifullycute · 2 years ago

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Rainbow Roses: Nature's Vibrant Masterpieces!

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astraystayyh · 1 year ago

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pieces of you

single dad!chan. x fem!reader

genre : neighbors!au. fluff. angst. slow burn. mutual pining. 8.7k wc

summary : In which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. Alternatively, Chris and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's no longer embarrassed when you open the door.

a.n. : my chris best girl dad agenda is going strong!!!!!! my second fic for the winter falls collab with my writer xi hehe i hope you will all enjoy reading!! feedback is highly appreciated 🤍 the song chris will write for sowon is light by sleeping at last, highly recommend listening to it!!

winter falls masterlist.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“Shh, daddy smile.”

Soft whispers linger just outside of your apartment, elusive words that you are quick to dismiss as figments of your imagination. However, any doubt in your mind dissipates with three resounding knocks on your door.

A reluctant groan escapes you as you glance down at your attire—a loosely hanging oversized hoodie, a testament to the numerous times it has been tugged down, and a pair of pajama pants whose matching top has mysteriously vanished. Clearly, you don't feel presentable enough to welcome anyone at this late hour. So, you remain motionless, futilely lowering the TV volume in hopes that whoever’s behind the door will just continue with their night. But the knocks persist against your wish, so, with a resigned sigh, you rise from your seat, your blanket cascading to the ground.

“What–” the words dissolve in your mouth like a sweet nectar as you open the door, your eyes beholding no one in your periphery. A slight tug at your pants draws your attention downward, only to find the most adorable child your eyes have ever laid on. She’s clad in Rapunzel-themed pajamas, wolf slippers bumping into your plain ones, and, to your surprise, a whisk cradled in her small hand.

“Hey there,” your voice softens as you crouch to meet her warm gaze. You find an innocent happiness gleaming in her eyes, a radiant spark shining even beneath the corridor’s muted light. Two dimples adorn her cheeks as she smiles at you.

“Hi, my dad wants to tell you something,” she says, pointing with her whisk to the very end of the hallway. You crane your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive figure.

“Your dad?”

“Mm. He’s a bit shy, that’s why he’s hiding,” she confides in a whisper. But, despite her earnest attempt, her words still resound loudly in the vacant space, causing giggles to spill out of your mouth.

“And you aren’t shy?” you inquire, tilting your head.

“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head with conviction as someone emerges behind her. She instinctively wraps an arm around their leg, nestling her cheek against their thigh.

She isn’t shy because she feels protected.

You rise from your place, eyes locking with a familiar shade of brown. Only these hold a mesmerizing quality to them making your very breath catch in your throat. Kindness pours from his gaze as it travels down your face, a sentiment that further materializes as delicate smile lines stitch around the corner of his eyes.

He’s beautiful.

Your eyes trail down to two pairs of dimples, mirroring the ones of his daughter perfectly. She is his living portrait, sharing his eyes, lips, and smile. Yet, his cheeks blush in a hue she does not possess, while his left hand fiddles with his earlobe, in an unspoken, timid gesture. For some odd reason, it pierces straight through your heart.

“Sorry for bothering you,” a smooth Australian accent rolls off his tongue, similar to rich butter spread on warm bread- it infuses your being with tingles pulsating from the base of your toes. You suddenly no longer miss your blanket.

“I’m your next-door neighbor. We were just making cookies and we realized we actually don’t have flour,” he explains, a bashful smile imprinted onto his lips.

“You didn’t check beforehand?” you ask, laughter tinting your voice.

“I forgot,” he admits, but his tone sounds almost sad as if beating himself over it. A fleeting shadow veils his face briefly, dissipating like a passing cloud grazing the sun.

“Can we borrow some from you? I told Sowon that we could go to the store but she said it’s too cold out,” he asks, his hand resting on his daughter’s shoulder soothingly.

“It is too cold out,” you agree with a frown, looking down at Sowon to which she smiles brightly, happy to have your support.

“And of course, I'll bring you flour. Don’t worry about it. Do you want to come in meanwhile?”

“It's okay, we'll wait here. Don’t want to intrude.”

“Thank you!” Sowon beams, her missing tooth in full display.

“Yeah, thank you so much…” he trails out, tilting his head as if to silently inquire about your name.

“Yn. And you?”

“Chris.”

“Nice to meet you, Chris,” you smile, shaking his extended hand. His fingers wrap around your palm, and it feels as if you’re grasping thunder, crackling with an electricity that your eyes can’t behold, yet your soul does, suddenly illuminated from within.

Your smile grows as you detach yourself from his hold, before bending forward to bop Sowon’s nose. “And nice to meet you too Rapunzel.”

Your words make her hide behind her father’s leg, peeking out slightly to look at you.

“See I’m not the only one who gets shy,” Chan chuckles, and Sowon whines in complaint, further burying her face in her dad’s grey sweatpants.

Adorable, so much it stirs a long-forgotten melancholy within your being.

“She gets a pass, she’s still young, right Sowon?”

“Are you calling me old then?” Chan fakes outrage, bringing one hand to his chest while the other cradles Sowon’s back.

“Old enough to forget about flour,” you wink and he laughs, looking down at your slippers.

“Touché.”

A few minutes go by before you come back, a recipient full of flour in your hands. The sight before you makes you pause in your tracks– Chris, leaning against the wall, Sowon propped on his hip, her arms loosely hanging around his neck, her eyes closed.

“Did she…” you whisper and he turns to you.

“Yeah, fell asleep,” he smiles fondly, tucking a few strands of her hair behind the curve of her ear. “She’ll be disappointed when she wakes up to no cookies. She wanted us to have a baking holiday tradition.”

“You don’t know how to make them?”

“No, I was counting on a six-year-old to assist me,” he chuckles quietly, prompting a snort from you.

“Well, keep the flour, in case you need it again.”

“Thank you, Yn,” he grins, the smile taking over his entire face, grabbing the recipient from you.

“You’re welcome Chris,” you say, as you both linger around the door still, not making any attempt to move.

Your eyes refuse to peel away from his, as if there were a magnetic force drawing you to him, telling you that your gaze belonged to rest on him.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, leaning away from the wall. “I'll get going.”

“Yeah, sleep well, Chris.”

“Thank you,” he smiles before turning around.

An idea brews in your head, a germ sprouted by the clear adoration in which Sowon gazed at her dad, and the disappointment in his face as he said he would no longer be making cookies. Had you wished to dig a little deeper, you would’ve also found a long-buried feeling of a little girl who would have loved holiday traditions as well. You close the door before heading straight to your kitchen.

One hour later

You knock softly on Chris’ door, fidgeting from one foot to another. You almost retract back to your apartment after your fourth knock, when the door finally opens, Chris coming into your line of sight.

“Hi,” you greet, hands behind your back.

“Hey,” he smiles, leaning his arm on the doorway, right above your head. He tilts his head to the side, silently wondering what you want. The words dissolve in your mouth at the way his eyes fixate on you as if trying to peer behind your irises onto your mind.

“Cookies,” you bring the plate before him, as his eyes grow wide, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips.

“You made them?”

“Yeah, didn't want Sowon to be disappointed,” you shrug and his eyes grow wild, racking all over your face in disbelief.

“You didn't have to do this,” he finally says, tone softening, syllables ringing like a sweet sonnet in your ears.

“I know. I wanted to. and I’m a baker so making cookies comes easily to me, don’t worry about it,” you shrug sheepishly, biting your lower lip slightly. You felt scrutinized by him in ways you haven't felt before.

“Thank you, Yn, I don’t even know what to say,” he says, his smile resembling a beam of light. A surge of pride courses through you at managing to bring it forth.

“No need to say anything. I hope I didn't wake you up,” you smile sheepishly and he shakes his head.

“No, I- I was working in my studio and Sowon is asleep. It's just us two. Always has been,” he adds, tone slightly changing, air growing heavier between you both. It’s just them two.

“Studio?” you inquire, hoping to dispel the tension latching around you both.

“I’m a music producer,” he clarifies. “I made a studio here so I could stay the night with Sowon.”

“I’m sure she appreciates that,” you say as you hand the plate to him. His fingertips brush against your own, and a slight electricity courses through you at the touch, the hallway suddenly brighter from the fireworks ricocheting off of you both.

“I…. I'll get going.”

“Yeah, yeah, don't want to take more of your time.”

“I'll see you around.”

“Yeah, I'll see you,” he says, words not ringing carelessly into the air, sounding more like a promise. He'll see you, he'll make sure of it.

ii.

“Can you wait!” a voice echoes near the building entrance, and you prevent the elevator doors from closing as hurried steps near you.

You recognize the voice easily by the light tingles running down your spine, the Australian accent shooting straight through your heart. Its owner materializes, Chris— leather jacket hugging his muscles snuggly, black t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, cap nestled on his head, rebellious strands of ebony hair peeking behind it.

You find the breath knocked out of you once again at his sight. He's beautiful, even more so in broad daylight, where every feature of his comes to life, beckoning, demanding your sole attention.

“Hey, Yn,” he smiles in delight, uttering your name in a familiarity that infuses your being with warmth. Even though you've only talked once, two days ago.

“Hey, Chris,” you greet back, pressing the fourth elevator button again. you face the mirror to find Chris already looking at you, his eyes instantly locking with yours.

“The cookies were good,” he smiles softly and you grin. “I'm glad you think so.”

“Where is your bakery? I need to taste more of your baking.”

The butterflies in your stomach tone down at his words, your attraction momentarily forgotten as gratitude coats your heart instead.

“I can text you the address?” you propose.

“Yeah, here,” he takes out his phone, a picture of him and Sowon set as his lock screen— their cheeks are pressed tightly to one another, messily done eyeliner on both their eyes. you giggle to yourself as you grab the device.

“Cute picture,” you muse and he brings an arm to his neck, scratching the side of it timidly.

“She insists on trying her makeup on me.”

“She makes you look better,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes, tongue poking against his cheek.

“She wants to become a stylist,” he explains, as the elevator doors open. He lets you out first, arm stretched forward.

“I find her passion really cute so I buy her anything she asks for,” he shrugs and you chuckle, pointing to the bag of pink ribbons he is carrying.

“Let me guess, she wants to use these on you?”

“Yeah. She also said that I quote ‘need to learn new hairstyles because her friends always come to class with intricate braids, and she can't go to class with a simple one.’” He repeats, tone growing slightly high-pitched as he mimics his daughter's words. Yet, the fond smile on his face is louder, screaming of his love for her.

“She has you wrapped around your finger,” you muse, leaning against your door. The keys in your bag are long forgotten.

“She can be very scary for such a little girl.”

“What does she threaten you with?” you ask, feigning horror.

“No goodnight kisses,” he whispers, as if scared she'd hear him beyond the wooden door.

“Torture,” you gasp, placing your hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Yet, the smiles slip out of your face instantly. Was it normal for clothes to dissolve under your touch, layers of cotton and leather doing nothing to stop the warmth of his skin from seeping through you? Was it normal to be so affected by such an innocent touch?

“Uhm,” you clear your throat, “I can help you. with her hair, I mean.”

��You don't have to. I already took too much from your time with the cookies,” he seems truly apologetic, his tone sobering as if despising others doing things for him. You see yourself in him, in the way he wants to carry the world’s burden on his shoulders. It is a reflection you wish to mend.

“I don't mind, I remember feeling jealous of the other girls in my school so I made myself learn all the braids.”

And then you see his gratefulness, the twinkle in his eyes that you can only grasp for a millisecond before they disappear into moon crescents. Happiness looks grand on him, overtaking his entire face, brightening his features with a glow too ethereal to be of mankind, as if they were carved to translate joy. You find yourself willing to give up more of your time to see it.

“Thank you,” he breathes out and you nod, a grin taking over your face as well.

“You’re welcome. Let me just change my clothes.”

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

“And then, you pull the right strand all over to the middle one. Then you repeat, this way the ribbon is braided into the hair,” you explain to a very concentrated Chris, his eyebrows furrowed as he follows your movements.

“It looks easy when you do it,” he frowns and you giggle, handing the mirror to Sowon so she'd be able to look at her hair.

“Do you like it,” you ask, a tad apprehensive and she beams, dimples that almost swallow her chubby cheeks surging forth.

“Pretty!” she exclaims and you giggle, bopping her nose. “You are pretty.”

“And you are pretty too. right, daddy?”

You turn back to find Chris watching you, a smile so fond on his face that it renders your insides putty, coats your cheek in the palest shade of pink.

“Very much so,” he says, tone quieter, his eyes never leaving yours.

Sowon suddenly climbs on her dad’s lap, star and moon stickers in hand. She places them all over his face, and he sits there diligently, arms wrapped around her midriff so she won't slip away. Every carefully placed sticker is punctuated by a soft gasp from him and a small giggle from her. You could feel the love radiating from both of them, a feeling so strong it made your heart twist in your chest.

Were there red neon exits you weren’t aware of in your being? Ones through which love trickled away all these years ago? Were the spaces between your fingers carved to hold someone’s hand, or to make everything you’ve ever wanted slip from your grasp like fallen sand?

“What do you think?” Sowon startles you and you force a smile on your face, willing the heaviness in your heart to dissipate. There were questions you'd never find the answers to, you had to make peace with that.

“I love it!” you grin and Sowon nods, satisfied. You look down at your lap as Chris fixates his eyes on you, a worried crease growing between his eyebrows.

“Fun is over, you need to do your homework, Miss Bang,” he scolds and you snort, as Sowon rolls her eyes slightly.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he fakes offense and you giggle as Sowon huffs slightly. “Dad, I told you I have no homework. I already did it with uncle Felix.”

“Oh, right,” he deflates slightly before brightening up once again, “then, you should put away all these hairbrushes and ribbons, okay?”

“Will you watch a movie later with me?”

“Of course, baby.”

“Okay then,” she grins, quickly standing up to start putting away her things. you smile, getting up your turn to leave. Chris understands and stands with you on cue.

“You can stay and watch the movie with us.”

“It's okay, I have some things to work on,” you turn around, but then you feel his fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Are you okay?” he asks, hand still burning straight through your skin, igniting a million nerve ends with a simple touch. You avoid his eyes, looking down at the ground. It seems to be response enough for him.

“We’re conditioned to say yes even when we aren’t, right?” he speaks softly, his words travel through your veins in a rapid course against the current of your blood— which one will reach your heart first and flood it?

Your facade cracks. His voice wins.

“So, you don't have to reply now,” his thumb swipes once across your pulse. “But I'll be here if you ever wish to tell the truth.”

iii.

You’ve grown exceptionally fond of Chris in the span of mere months, more than you would like to admit to yourself. It was an easy task, as natural as the current of a waterfall. Yet, you did not plan for it, for a new emotion to settle on top of your lungs, to make you more aware of your heart and how it beats, slightly faster, around Chris. But it happened serendipitously, against all odds, when he knocked on your door at 10 p.m. asking for salt.

“Should I start buying groceries for you?” you joked, and it took Chris a millisecond longer to respond, his gaze wandering across your face, as if discovering the world’s eighth wonder, hidden in plain sight all these years.

“For my defense, I have a daughter that likes experimenting with cooking,” he smiled, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Just with salt?”

“She added four teaspoons of it in an omelet. Then forced me to eat it because I always tell her food shouldn't go to waste,” he shudders at the memory and you chuckle loudly.

Chris knocks on the doors of your heart, once.

It happened when you spotted a cockroach the size of your palm on your bedroom wall. You would’ve killed it, you were going to, except it started flying towards you and you let out a loud shriek you didn’t know your vocal chords were capable of conjuring. So, you called Chris.

“Can you please come over,” you murmured, crouching near the entrance door, a pair of slippers in your hand.

“Why are you whispering? are you okay?” he sounded worried, and you heard the turning of a lock as he opened the door to his apartment. He didn’t ask questions, instantly coming to your aid. A sudden urge to weep filled your being at his gesture.

“There is a cockroach. a flying one,” you precised, horror dripping from your tongue and his laugh flooded your ear, tiny squeaks that made your hold on the slipper grow limp.

“I'm from Australia,” he knocked on your door, and you stood up promptly. “I've seen worse,” he said once you finally opened it, his eyes softening incredibly when they met yours.

He did kill the cockroach, by spraying your insect repellent enough times to asphyxiate you too. “I don't think I can sleep in there tonight,” you sighed, gulping down ice cold water, “why does it feel like we went through war?”

“We? You were behind my back all the time.”

“I was cheering you on, from afar. Spiritually.”

“I can’t believe a cockroach scares you this much.”

“You literally screamed when it flied towards you too.”

“I didn't scream! I made a very manly, non-terrified sound.”

“Mm, sure,” you giggled, voice softening at the blushing of the tip of his ears. Chris didn't have to force the door down to your heart, you willingly opened it for him.

And after that, it was a race to find the silliest excuses to see one another. Chris suddenly taking up an inkling for baking, you manifesting a newfound interest in music, Sowon needing her makeup done for a dance, Chris visiting you in your bakery, Sowon craving your cookies and you teaching her the recipe, Chris knocking on your door and you knocking on his. The same giddy smiles on your faces as you usher each other in. And it always, always ending with a movie night.

“Let's watch Tangled,” Sowon exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly.

“Baby, we watched this movie for the past…” he looks at you for support. “Three,” you whisper, a bashful smile on your face. “Yeah, for the past three movie nights,” he whines slightly.

“But I love it,” she says, her pout morphing into a huge grin. “Again! Again! Again!”

“Fine,” he concedes, mouthing “save me,” from afar to you. You giggle softly while Sowon cozies up to your side, your arm draping across her body while her legs stretch atop Chris’ lap, naturally, as if having you both by her side was the way things have always been. The only reality she’s ever known.

It is a fleeting fifty minutes as the three of you watch the movie, Sowon reciting excitedly the lines that she seems to remember. But then the quiet is replaced by her soft snores, her body growing light against you.

“She fell asleep,” you whisper, tapping Chris’ shoulder to catch his attention. He tilts his head to the side, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his eyes land on his daughter.

“I'm sorry you have to watch the same movie every time,” he says apologetically and you shake your head.

“I don't mind. Tangled is a good movie.”

“Are you here just because of the movie?” he smiles, dimples peeking through. The juxtaposition between the weight of his words and the soft expression on his face makes a buzzing warmth spread through you. He’s cold and hot, in and out, yours but not.

“What do you want me to be here for?” you throw back, squeezing his shoulder slightly.

“The company.”

“I do find Sowon entertaining.”

“Just her?” he pouts and you giggle, tipping your head back.

“And you too, I suppose, by extension.”

“By extension, mm,” he hums, as he gathers Sowon in his arms, freeing her from your hold. “Then I guess I shouldn't come visit you in your bakery anymore. Since you only enjoy my presence by extension.”

“So sassy,” you shout-whisper as you both walk to Sowon's bedroom, “I like your company too, idiot.”

“Yeah?” he turns back to look at you, tone a tad bit too hopeful. He doesn’t care that he sounds eager for your approval, not when he feels as if he can only truly breathe when you're near.

“Yeah, Chris, I really do,” you speak earnestly, and Chris bites his lower lip slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the gentleness of your tone. Your eyes follow his action instantly.

He lowers Sowon gently onto the bed and she stirs awake, blinking repeatedly at the both of you. “Yn,” she calls out quietly once her eyes land on yours and you kneel before her bed. Chris watches from the door entrance as Sowon cups her hand near your ear, before whispering something to you. He notices your body stiffening, your gaze fleeting to him before you relax, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

He wishes he could freeze time, stitch this moment into his eyelids until it is the only thing he sees when he goes to sleep. Loneliness is too big of an enemy for one person to fight off, but it seems more harmless when you are near.

Chris sees you right here, every night, not forcing your place into his family, but falling seamlessly into place. Perhaps you were the missing piece that’ll soothe the burn in his heart. Perhaps he’d let you in, even as fear paralyzes his being at the mere thought of asking you to stay.

One week later.

You've grown used to the knocks on your door at ungodly hours of the night, Chris seeking your company each time you both fail to fall asleep. Except this time, there is a chilling premonition in your heart as you walk to your home’s entrance, anxiety coiling like a steel ball in your throat.

“What’s wrong?” you ask upon opening the door, locking eyes with Chris's bloodshot gaze.

“Sowon,” he heaves, tone laden with fear, so different from how he usually pronounces her name. The syllables pierce through your heart like an arrowhead.

“Sowon?” you question, peering behind him to his slightly ajar apartment door.

“Yes, she has a high fever, and it won’t come down. I tried everything, and I-I don’t know what to do anymore. She’s shaking, but I can’t—”He trembles, his quivers akin to delicate chinaware on the precipice of an earthquake, poised to shatter at your feet. You'd plunge to the ground first, anything to soften his impending collapse.

“It’s okay,” you soothe, your voice soft as you grasp his wrist. “Let’s go see her, okay?”

“It's her first time being this sick,” he whispers, clearly distraught, one hand running through his freshly dyed blonde hair.

“It's okay. Don’t panic, it happens. Did you give her medicine?”

“Yes, a few minutes ago,” he replies as you guide him towards her room.

“Good, it'll start working soon,” you reassure, opening the door and crouching before Sowon.

“Hey, Rapunzel,” you coo softly, and Sowon attempts to muster a smile. Her cheeks flush, eyes dim like withered petals.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, pressing your hand to her feverish forehead. You cast a wary glance at Chan, who's anxiously biting his thumb.

“Cold,” she whispers, and you nod, peeling off her blanket. “I know you are, but you have a high fever. We need to let it cool down, okay?”

“I-I’m shaking,” Sowon sighs, lower lip protruding and trembling, both from the iciness clawing at her frail being, and the tears welling in her waterline, like a cup on the brink of overflowing.

“Shh, don't cry. It will pass, it's okay,” you murmur soothingly, cradling her face on your lap, gently moving damp strands of her hair behind her ear.

“Chris, can you bring me a towel and a bowl with cold water?” you ask softly, and the man startles, painfully peeling his eyes away from his daughter, as if doing so would consign her to a dark fate.

“Sure. Sure,” he repeats, scurrying out of the room.

Sowon buries her cheek in your thigh, small hands clinging tightly to yours. You tie her hair up into a loose bun as Chan hurriedly comes back, a bassinet in his hand.

“Thank you,” you smile, as he kneels beside the bed, his hand resting on Sowon’s knee gently.

“Hey sweetheart,” he coos softly, and Sowon blinks at him, light spilling over her face.

“Hey daddy,” she replies as you dip the towel into the water, before squeezing the fabric to remove any liquid excess.

“You're being so strong. I love you so much my pretty girl,” he says, bringing her small hand to rest upon his cheek, bestowing a gentle kiss on her palm.

The moment feels so intimate, so tender, that you almost feel like an intruder. You imagine this is what thorns on roses must feel like, so out of place amid delicate petals and stems.

“I love you too,” she grins, and you remain silent, diligently wiping her face and neck with the dampened towel. You soon lose track of the number of times you've repeated this motion, but Sowon’s eyes are now closed and her body is no longer trembling.

You rest your palm upon her forehead, a sigh of relief escaping your body as you realize that her fever has gone down noticeably- the medicine finally taking effect.

“It's better now,” you smile reassuringly and Chris’s eyes widen, irises shaking as he looks back to his daughter.

“Will she be okay?”

“She will be. She just needs to sleep a bit.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Can we prepare her something to eat meanwhile?”

“Mm,” he absentmindedly nods, his fingers trailing down Sowon’s features delicately, resting upon her round cheeks.

“She looks just like you,” you softly smile.

“I know,” he admits, not with pride but in surrender, as if his reflection was nothing but a cursed fate. His voice tastes like ocean water, salty, acid, suffocating.

“Chris…” you trail off and he shakes his head, abruptly standing up.

“Let's make her chicken noodle soup. She loves it,” he says and you nod. A ticking bomb resides in his veins, devoid of a countdown, leaving you unsure of when he'll finally explode.

You get your answer soon after—it takes two minutes and thirty-three seconds for the first tear to roll down Chris’s cheek. You spot it as you retrieve carrots from the fridge, averting your gaze as Chan angrily wipes it away.

A few seconds later, five tears follow the same agonizing trail, and now the knife is shaking in Chris’ hands. He squeezes his eyes shut as if frustrated by his pain, by the emotions escaping through the cracks in his heart.

You stay silent, bringing the water to a simmer.

The clank of metal against the counter snaps your attention, and you see Chris with his head lowered down, his hands tightly clutching the counter.

Your tongue moves before you can order it to speak.

“Chris,” you call out, your hand finding its place on his back. An ugly sob escapes his lips, a raw cry unearthed from the depths of the soil where he buried his feelings, never allowing himself the grace of grieving, then moving on.

“I'm a horrible father,” he utters so brokenly as if this idea were cemented into his head, woven into every thought of himself—an adjective that lingers like a phantom each time Sowon calls him dad.

“You're not, what are you saying?” you gently turn him around so he'd face you. But his eyes remain downcast, as if ashamed to meet your gaze.

“I didn't know what to do. I panicked. I-I wasn't enough to help her.”

“It's okay, you can't know everything, you are trying your best-”

“No, no, no, it's not just about this!” he snaps, despair clinging to his eyes as he finally looks at you. “It’s hard. It’s so hard to be here alone, and I- I try but it's not enough, I can't do everything and I'm not a good enough parent for her, there will a-always be something missing.”

“You're wrong,” you say but he shakes his head in disagreement. “Chris, you're wrong,” you cradle his face, taking you both by surprise. Your thumb swipes gently underneath the skin of his eyes, wiping his cascading tears.

“You love Sowon. And she can feel it, she can see it, she can hear it. Everyone can. A parent can't be perfect, but they should love. And you love her.”

“What if I can't even love her enough for a father? How will I ever fill the role of two parents?” he's leaning onto your palm, hanging onto your every word. You'd sit for hours and untangle every thread of his mind if you have to, until you single out the infested one and burn it away.

“She loves you Chris. She looks at you as if you hang every star in the sky. As if you're responsible for every good thing that happens in our world. She loves you and you love her.”

You gaze up at the ceiling, tears welling in your eyes. Chan notices the subtle tremble in your hand against his cheek.

“If I had someone who loved me as much as you love Sowon when I was a child, I would've turned out so differently,” you smile bitterly, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

“You won't be a perfect dad. You can't be. But she won't grow up with a throbbing heart, pulsating because of a void that cannot be filled. Her veins won't be poisoned by hate and abandonment. Because she knows what it's like to be loved,” you pause, as your voice breaks, traitorous tears rolling down your cheeks. “To be cared for.”

Your eyes hold his in a silent conversation, secretly telling him what your tongue cannot speak of— Sowon, an untarnished blossom, won't unfurl into a solitary flower the way you did.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers after a while, eyes softening in understanding. His knuckles brush gently against your cheek.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“So you'd find a reason within you to forgive,” he says, as he leans forward to press a tender kiss on your forehead. And somehow it feels more intimate than any way you've been touched before.

Five days later.

chris [11:32 p.m.]: you up?

yn [11:32 p.m.]: i just got bad flashbacks to my college years

chris [11:33 p.m.]: ajaksjsbsbbs

chris [11:33 p.m.]: i didn’t mean it like that ㅠㅠ

chris [11:33 p.m.]: wanna come over? i'm in the studio but im not feeling inspired

yn [11:34 p.m.]: and how will i help?

chris [11:34 p.m.]: i find your presence inspiring

You don’t reply, instead putting on your slippers and walking over to his apartment. He opens the door before you even have the chance to knock.

“What are you working on?” you ask once you’re settled atop his chair, spinning around slightly. He looks down at the pillow on his lap, lightly plucking its pink fur. “A song for Sowon,” he admits softly and your eyes grow a little wide.

“That is so sweet,” you pout, inching closer to him. “How is it going?”

“I've finished the melody and now I'm working on the lyrics. There is just.. so much i want to tell her, i'm unsure if ill be able to express it well.”

“Can I read what you wrote?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he searches through his papers. “Here.”

May these words be the first to find your ears

The world is brighter than the sun now that you're here

I'll give you everything I have

I'll teach you everything I know

I promise I'll do better

I will soften every edge

I'll hold the world to its best

And I'll do better

Tears spring to your eyes unexpectedly, you try to stop their flow but they fall upon the paper, splattering like a broken mosaic, mimicking the brokenness of your own heart.

“I'm sorry,” you spin around, your back to him as you attempt to dry your tears, and yet they show no desire to stop. Chris is in your heart and he’s kicking every other emotion out, forcing you to make amends with your sadness, the one you buried years, years ago.

Chris gently grabs the back of the chair, pulling you back to him before spinning your chair once again until you are facing him. You bury your face in your hands and his rests reassuringly on your knee, squeezing it slightly. “Is it so bad it made you sob?”

“Shut up, you know this isn’t the case.”

His hand delicately traces up your arm, gently lifting your fingers from your face. He kneels before you, his thumb tenderly wiping away the traces of tears on your cheeks.

“Talk to me?”

“It's so beautiful, so warm, so loving. Everything a parent should think of their child,” a traitorous hiccup escapes your lips. “Everything my parents never felt for me.”

Chris’ mouth morphs into a pout, eyebrows scrunching tightly. You shake your head, smoothing down the worried crease between his eyes.

“I don't feel sad over things I can't control and I love myself enough now to compensate for what I didn't have, but sometimes-'' your voice breaks, Chan’s hold on your hands tightens. “It stings to remember what could’ve been.”

Stings was an understatement, it is rather a pulsating void, throbbing in ache every day, calling out for its missing piece. How can I fill you with what was lost when it chose to walk away?

“Come here,” he whispers, coaxing you to your feet, his arms enveloping your body as he guides your head to the crook of his neck. His body runs warm, the material of his sweatshirt soft, and he smells nice too, the contours of his muscles tailor-made to complement the ridges of your own.

“You grew up well, Yn. You did well.”

You clutch his shirt, tightening your grip as you fist the fabric in your palm. He's patting your back, and time slows down to match the rhythm of his touch.

“Love can be hard, I know. Especially when the people who left are the ones supposed to be staying.”

He understands, more than anyone you know. He missed out on a different kind of love too, two facets of the same coin.

“You’re doing well too, Chris. You shouldn’t doubt yourself as much,” your arms trail up to encircle his neck, as his nose tickles your hair. You're the one hugging him now. “Sowon is really smart, she told me that she loves you a lot. She can feel it. She sees everything you do for her.”

“Is that what she told you that movie night?”

“Partly,” you whisper, and Chris leans away slightly, his warm palms still pressed to your waist, holding you close.

“What else did she tell you?” he asks, curiosity barely hidden in his tone.

You pause for a while, eyes going over the entire room before finally locking on him.

“She thanked me, said that I make you smile more.” You suck in a deep breath, gathering your courage. “Do I?”

“There are smile lines that don’t show on my face until you're near.”

“Oh.” That is the only coherent response you can formulate, and Chris giggles, a tiny squeak escaping his lips in a huff. “Cute,” he murmurs, planting a tender kiss on your temple. His lips linger, holding onto the moment a beat longer than necessary, causing your eyes to close in delight. Both of you find yourselves blushing as he leans away, a shared warmth coloring the space between you.

“Sorry, didn't mean to make the mood somber,” you say sheepishly as you sit back down, eyeing Chris’s laptop. “I wanna hear this,” you quickly point to a random track on his screen before he can reply, hoping to make the sadness flee away.

“This one? It’s not really good, let's listen to something else,” his rambling and eagerness to change the track pique your curiosity and you quickly click on the song before he can stop you.

connected.mp3 starts playing.

Sultry beats inundate your ears, weaving through your veins and whisking you away to the pulsating rhythm of a dance club. You knew Chris produced good music, yet you never fathomed that his voice could be so luxuriously rich, cascading over you like molten wax. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the suggestive lyrics, the innuendos peeking behind every word. And then, a sudden jealousy claws at your heart, at the thought of Chris hunched in his studio, fantasizing about connecting with someone who isn’t you.

You wished to be the only one Chris liked.

“It’s a- a demo for one of my clients,” he explains through a stutter once the song is done, and you nod meekly, willing your body’s temperature to go down, for the possessivity crinkling in you to fizzle out.

So, you put on your best taunting smirk.

“I know you want me don’t crumble.. No need to be desperate we’re just getting started,” you sing-song back. “You were feeling so cocky when you wrote this, right?” you grin, inching your chair closer to his. “Feeling yourself, Mr. Bang?”

He chuckles with a hint of annoyance, running his tongue along the expanse of his lower lip. Leaning back into his chair, he casually spreads his legs a bit wider, a gesture that suddenly leaves you feeling dizzy, on him.

“It’s cute how affected you seem by it,” he throws nonchalantly, crossing his arms before his chest.

“I'm not,” you smile, although your erratic heartbeat spoke of a different tale, you just didn't need to voice it to him. “I think you were the one getting all hot and bothered in your studio,” you stand between his legs, hovering over him as he leans back fully in his chair.

“I was thinking of a pretty girl.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he suddenly grabs your waist, you feel like your entire body is ablaze. “The prettiest.”

“Who is she?” you exhale, teetering on the edge of crashing your lips onto his, like an incoherent love poem, hastily scrambled on a notebook in a fit of passion.

“y–” The door suddenly opens, Sowon’s small frame standing by the door, she’s rubbing her eyes tiredly, her chick plushie dangling from her hand (a gift from her uncle Felix as she explained to you). You quickly scramble away from Chris as he clears his throat loudly.

“Daddy, I can't sleep,” she says faintly, a tiny pout drawn on her lips, and you can see Chris physically melt at her words, at the way she paddles to his chair, and tries her best to climb up his legs. She fails to do so, so he quickly scopes her up his arms until she’s buried in his hold. Her small hands wound up around his neck, and he tenderly pats down her hair, his gaze never wavering from her frame.

“Want me to sing to you, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she whispers, before making grabby hands at you, your heart softens like clay dough as you scoot closer, enclosing her fingers in your hold.

“Sleep well, Sowonnie,” you whisper.

“Can’t you stay with us?” she asks and you feel your blood freeze in your veins, your heart skipping three beats at once.

To stay. What a frightening concept. Even more scary when you realize that you aren’t opposed to it.

You yearn to stay, for the first time in years, you wish you could.

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, before smiling reassuringly. “I'll stay till you fall asleep.”

Conditions, it is the way it has always been for you. staying till you’re no longer useful, staying till you're no longer wanted. Staying, but always with a time limit, always with an expiration date.

iv.

You’re avoiding him.

Chris knows you are, since you no longer come over to his house, claiming that you’re tired, or that you have an important order to bake for the next day. He would have believed you had he not seen you only once in the past three weeks.

Those were excuses, and each one of them weighed heavily on Chris’ heart, on his home too, his studio particularly, the one that got used to the sound of your laugh.

He misses you. He never thought he’d miss someone again, craving you presence as if every breath leaving his body depended on you. He wasn’t a stranger to intimacy, fleeting hookups every now and then. Strangers invited him to their bed, knowing what they were signing up for– one night of pleasure, never to be seen again, their faces blurring into an indistinct mass in his mind, like an impressionist painting where no features stand out. Yet, with you, every detail is etched in his memory.

He could pick you out of a crowded room, recognize the delicate curve of your neck, the fullness of your lips, and the way your nose scrunches when you smile.

He could draw the moles scattered on your body from memory alone, recognize your scent from miles away– your cotton shampoo and the specific laundry detergent you love to use and a hint of vanilla that never truly leaves you.

He’d remember the curve of your lashes and the cascading of your hair, the airy giggles you leave across like a trail for him to follow everywhere, and your eyes– the way they gazed at him, softening slightly around the edges, shining brightly as if crafted from stardust, the way they softened even more when you looked at Sowon, voice growing slightly high pitched as you listened to his daughter’s rambles.

How did you manage to make his home yours without ever living in it?

“Dad?” Sowon calls out and he snaps his head up, locking eyes with his little girl. She’s sitting on a high stool, munching on her pizza, a pensive look on her face.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks, walking over to her side.

“Where is Ynnie?” she asks in a small voice and he freezes, mulling over his response. He settles for the truth.

“I don't know, baby.”

“Does she not want to play with me anymore?” Sowon whispers, and he doesn’t remember his daughter ever being this tentative about voicing a question.

“No!” he's quick to reassure, cradling Sowon’s face between his much larger hands. “Of course not baby she loves you a lot.”

“Okay…” she nods, a small pout drawn on her lips still. Chris senses his heart physically crack in his chest.

“Do you wanna work in the studio with me?” he says in a joyful tone, and she instantly cheers up, the twinkle in her eyes found again. “Yes!”

“Finish your food first, okay Wonnie?”

“Okay!”

In Chris's life, regrets have been scarce, and certainly not in the form of Sowon, his beacon of hope, as he named her. Having her was beholding a sun wherever he went. However, a fear lingers, a whisper in his heart, suggesting that letting you go might be his one true regret.

So when his daughter falls asleep, he knocks on your door once again. He's suddenly transported into that cold night, months ago, where he asked you for flour. Had he known you were behind it he would’ve knocked much sooner.

“Hi,” you greet softly once you open the door. He takes a step forward, his wolf slippers matching with Sowon’s bump into your plain ones. You avert your gaze, finding anything but him to fixate on.

“You're avoiding me,” he says matter-of-factly, voice soft, resigning to you.

“I'm not,” you contradict, even as your eyes remain on the ground. He finds himself missing the color of your irises.

“Look at me, hm?” he implores, and you stay rooted in place. A soft sigh escapes him as he cradles your right cheek with his warm hand, his thumb gently sweeping across your cheekbone. “Yn, please, I want to look at you.”

Maybe it is the pleading tone of his voice or the way his thumb tenderly grazes your skin, but something about Chris makes your resolve unravel, threads of fear unknotting before your eyes. So, you finally look at him. An exhale of relief escapes him.

And then you speak.

“You asked me if I was okay, and I didn't reply, back then,” you say, leaning your head further against his palm as tears well up in your waterline. “Do you still want to know my answer?”

“Of course, always.”

“I'm happy. With you, with sowon. I feel this warmth that I have never known before when I'm with you. It was almost easy to forget I've known you during winter,” you chuckle dryly, “but it is all an illusion, I lie to myself thinking I could stay, I… I can't, I-“

“What if I ask you to stay?” he brings your hand to his heart, where it beats erratically, pulse seeping through your skin.

He’s as scared as you are.

“Chris…”

“What if I told you, Yn, please stay with me,” he breathes out, guiding your hand to gently cup his cheek. “Would you? Would you stay?”

“I'm terrified,” you whisper, as he tilts his head, bestowing a tender kiss on your palm.

“I know, so am I. But, you make me believe that even my bruised parts are worthy of love.”

He wins, before years of skeletons and piled up doubts, he wins.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I'm staying.”

“You are?”

“I am,” you giggle lightly and he staggers back, the sun pouring into his smile.

“Um, wow, okay. Thank you for staying,” his voice sounds airy, happiness floating in his tone, and you find it contagious, imprinting into your own.

“Thank you for asking me to stay.”

“You made it less daunting,” he pats your head, smoothing your hair down. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He giggles in response and you can't help but mirror the sound. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Whaaat? I'm not,” his tone grows high-pitched and you roll your eyes amusedly.

“What happened to connected Chris?”

“He is flustered by the girl he wrote about.”

Your cheeks tint red as he places a hand above your head, caging you in place.

“I think the girl should get paid for being the muse.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, “I'll think about it.” His grin softens, as a content expression washes over his face. You know you must look the same. “Let's talk more tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” you grin, before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Chris.”

“Good night, yn.”

You quietly watch as he walks to his apartment door, his hand settling on the door knob. He pauses, for a few seconds where the air around you stills, before swiveling around and walking over to you again.

you win.

“I forgot something,” he breathes out, before crashing his lips onto yours, furiously, as if needing to imprint his essence onto you, tainting your soul the way you have tainted him, permanently altering the composition of his being. His lips move on yours as if they've done this before, a dance they have rehearsed countless times, perhaps in all the dreams Chris visited you in. Yet, nothing compares to how it feels to have him touch you, lick your lower lip and drag his hand up your hips, press you against your apartment door, and nibble at your neck.

Nothing could have prepared you for the passion he shows you, for how delicious it feels to be pressed against him, for the storm that your lips conjure, swirling in your heart in vibrant shades of red. Then, for the softness of his lips as they slow down their course, plump and rosy as they meet your own, tenderly, more gently, one kiss after the other. “My hope,” he whispers, as his lips find yours again, “my missing piece.”

He’s hot and cold, in yet seeking no out, finally yours.

bonus (one year later).

“So I brought the eggs, milk, sugar,” Chris enumerates as he takes out the groceries, and you turn to look at Sowon to find her already gazing at you, a mischievous look on her face.

“How much do you wanna bet he forgot flour?” you whisper and she giggles, burying her face in her hands to stifle her laugh.

“And… Wait, where is the flour?” he trails off and you burst out laughing, as you and Sowon high-five each other excitedly.

“Daddy, you are really bad at groceries.”

“Am I?” he smiles sheepishly, fiddling with his earlobe in a manner that still makes your heart melt, renders your insides butterflies speaking of Chris’ name.

“Yes, it’s good Mom bought it,” she says naturally, looking down at her iPad. You and Chris freeze in your tracks, eyes instantly locking with one another, yours and his, glossy with emotion, a loving tide enveloping you both.

It's her first time calling you mom.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, crafted not by thorns but by petals, not by ache but with love, before placing your chin on the small of her shoulder, murmuring softly. "Mm, will you help me bake, baby?"

“Yes! I wanna be a baker when I grow up, just like you.”

“What happened to being a stylist?”

“I can't be both?” she frowns innocently.

“You can be anything you want, princess.” you bop her nose and she giggles, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

In the grip of winter, Chris discovers a warmth that defies the season, casting off years of cold from the recesses of his bones. A soft smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, his hopes, his girls, the three of you clad in wolf slippers.

He’ll propose to you tomorrow.

#skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids angst #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids reactions #skz angst #skz fanfic #chan fluff #chan x reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz au

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melancholy-of-nadia · 6 months ago

Text

i'm not sure?! (m) | jjk/pjm/kth

title: i'm not sure?! pairing: jungkook x jimin x taehyung x show producer!reader(f) rating/genre: m(18+) ; fluff, smut ; the canon idol au summary: You're a producer working on a BTS travel show, called "Are You Sure?!" staring BTS members Jimin and Jungkook, with their fellow member guest star Taehyung. Everything is going well on set as filming for the night comes to an end, but when Jungkook and Jimin inform you that they caught you staring at their shirtless bodies, things quickly escalate between you guys by the poolside. warnings: fluff, language, pwp, threesome, foursome, tit play, nipple play, licking, some body boob worship, blowjobs, hand jobs, eating out, multiple orgasms, ass slapping, light mlm moment, cumming, oral sex (m and f receieving), biting, praise, they all have a big dicks but they're different!, tatted jk and jimin is a warning in itself, jungkook is a bit more rough, jimin is soft :(((, taehyung dom tease!, insinuation that this is not their first rodeo lmfao, kisses note: i am watching are you sure?! and i've thought many thoughts... i hope this one shot can be prescribed to you and heal whatever insane and nasty intrusive thoughts you guys have when watching. i am a simple woman, but these men only slightly older than me have me wrecked :"))) also s/o to @daegudrama for editing despite her busyness total word count: 6.6k drop date: August 29th, 2024 5pm pst ao3 link

A day of filming wrapped as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden hue over the lush greenery of Jeju Island.

The final shot had captured the last rays of sunlight glinting off the shimmering pool, where Jimin and Jungkook had been playfully splashing each other and playing mermaids, their laughter echoing through the tranquil evening air. The crew began to pack up the equipment, the usual post-shoot chatter filling the space as everyone prepared to unwind after another successful day.

You, the producer, had been watching the monitors closely, ensuring every moment was captured perfectly for "Are You Sure?"—the travel reality show hosted by BTS members Jimin and Jungkook. You’ve seen how their chemistry was undeniable since filming started out in the US in July. Now, once again, their camaraderie was infectious as they explored the beauty of Jeju, Korea with their fellow bandmate and guest star Taehyung by their side. Each outing in Jeju had been a hit: indoor rock climbing, go-karting, savoring omakase as well as other Jeju delicacies, and now, the pool at the luxurious house accommodation, where they seemed to find endless ways to entertain themselves, and the audiences who would eventually be watching this.

However, throughout this filming project, you found your eyes constantly lingering. The cool blue water rippled gently as Jimin and Jungkook clambered out, their naked torsos glistening in the fading light. It wasn’t the first time you’d caught yourself staring a little too long, mesmerized by the sight of them so effortlessly carefree and touchy. There was something about the way they moved, their playful energy, that made it hard to look away.

You shake off the thought. Get it together, Y/N! You finally got a big gig producing a reality show for BTS in your mid-20s and you cannot be ruining it over your lust. You sigh. Maybe the lack of touch and a relationship is really getting to you, but that’s what happens when you value your career above other mundane things. You have to remind yourself that you have to continue staying professional to make it to the end of filming this.

What you don’t know is that your stares haven’t gone unnoticed, especially by the youngest of the trio, Jungkook.

As you begin to collect your things, your heart skips a beat when you hear a voice call out to you.

“Hey, PD-nim. Can you come join us by the pool for a bit before you go,” Jungkook says, his tone casual, but his smile inviting. “We wanted to talk about tomorrow’s shoot.”

Jimin nods in agreement, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leans against the edge of the pool. “Yeah, we’ve got some ideas for tomorrow. Plus, it’s a nice night—no reason to rush off, right?”

You hesitate for a moment, your mind racing. The day has been long, and you can feel the exhaustion settling in. But the chance to spend a few more moments in their company, even if just to discuss the next day's itinerary, is too tempting to resist.

“Uh,” you turn to look around at the other staff, seemingly wondering if you should stay behind.

However, the ones who notice the interaction shrug, seemingly wanting to go back to their accommodation next door and eat dinner. Great.

“Sure, I can stick around for a bit.” trying to keep your voice steady as you walk over to where they’re waiting.

All the staff but you fully exit, closing the large doors that encase you in this space with these beautiful men. You sit on one of the comfortable seats by the pool, nervously hugging your knees as you watch Jimin and Jungkook swim toward you. You notice Taehyung is still inside the living room, lying on the floor as he scrolls on his phone. “Is he coming to join us?” You ask, wondering if there are any concerns for tomorrow, wouldn’t it be good to have him hear this information too?

“He’ll join us later~” Jimin answers, his tone sounding like he’s up to something, but his adorable smirk makes you not question it.

“Ah, alright.”

A brief silence follows as you look to Jimin and Jungkook to start the conversation, but instead, they exchange a glance and giggle.

You’re confused, but you recognize this as typical behavior from them. “Is there something wrong?”

Jungkook’s giggling becomes softer before it cuts, “You know, we’ve noticed you staring at us too much throughout the trip in America and here.”

Holy shit! They noticed!

Panic sets in. Oh no no no. Is this it? They probably think you’re creepy. What if they think you’re some sort of sasaeng fan who somehow got involved in the production of this show to stalk them?

You’ll be labeled a pervert, potentially losing your job and getting blacklisted from the industry. All because you couldn’t keep your eyes off of their beautiful faces… and bodies. It’s not your fault! While you were a fan of BTS years ago, you gave that up once you entered the entertainment industry a few years ago and started out as a production assistant. You’ve occasionally seen them at music and end of the year shows you worked on, but you gently admired them from afar, prioritizing your work over anything else.

“I–” You struggle to find the words to defend yourself. “I’m so sorry!” You cover your face with your hands, your words muffled. “I-I didn’t mean to! Y-You’re… He’s…”

The professional and stoic exterior you’ve maintained begins to crumble now that you’ve been caught red-handed.

But despite your panic, Jimin and Jungkook find your reaction completely endearing.

“She’s reacting exactly as cute as you said!” Jimin laughs, splashing water at Jungkook, who swims toward the pool ladder to get out.

“I didn’t realize she’d be this flustered, though!” Jungkook says, a hint of concern in his voice. He climbs out of the pool and walks toward you, dripping water onto the deck. “PD-nim, don’t worry about it.”

You peek through your fingers, still mortified, as Jungkook approaches, looking as attractive as ever with his body glistening from light reflecting on the remnants of water falling down his body. His expression is soft, reassuring, and it only makes your heart race faster.

Jimin lets out a soft chuckle. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re just teasing you,” His voice is light and teasing as he floats lazily in the pool “We’re not uncomfortable. It’s kind of flattering, actually.”

Jungkook nods, his expression gentle yet probing. “Yup! You’ve been nothing but professional this whole time. We just noticed that… maybe there’s more beneath the surface.”

Jimin gracefully lifts himself out of the pool and takes the seat on your other side. His presence is both comforting and disarming. “It’s like there’s something you’re holding back,” he adds, his tone hiding something deeper. “Something you’re denying yourself.”

You exhale slowly, trying to steady your nerves. Internally, you’re awestruck. It’s like they read you like a book. The intensity of their gazes still makes your heart race. Before you can respond, Jungkook’s eyes drop to your chest, his smile turning playful again.

“You know,” he says, “I noticed the black bikini top peeking out from under your tank top earlier.”

Your breath catches as his fingers touch the straps that tie behind your neck. You’d planned to swim later, after filming, wearing the bikini under your tank top and maxi skirt. Seeing how much fun they were having, you’d wanted to join in. But now, with their attention focused on you, you feel exposed in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

Jimin leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Why don’t you take off your clothes so we can see it better? We’ll help you~”

Take off your clothes?! Your heart pounds in your chest, the suggestion hanging in the air between you. The teasing is taking a turn, and you’re not sure how to respond. Saying no might kill the mood, and who knows what they’d think—or say. But if you say yes… there’s no telling where this might lead.

You’re not sure. But after a moment’s hesitation, you nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “Okay…”

Jungkook gently takes hold of the hem of your tank top, his fingers brushing against your skin. His touch is both soft and deliberate, sending a shiver down your spine as he slowly lifts the fabric, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your breath catches in your throat as Jungkook pulls the tank top over your head, revealing the black bikini top beneath. Your cleavage and the roundness of your breasts are on full display, which makes them slightly more excited. The cool air hits your skin, making you acutely aware of how exposed you are.

But the look in their eyes isn’t one of judgment—it’s something far more intense, more primal.

Jimin watches with a satisfied smile, his gaze flickering between you and Jungkook. “You don’t need to hide, okay?” he adds, his voice soft yet commanding. “We’re all just having a little fun, right?”

Jungkook’s hands linger on your waist, his thumbs brushing lightly against the skin just above the waistband of your maxi skirt. “This too,” he says, his voice almost a whisper as he hooks his fingers under the fabric.

You glance at Jimin, who nods encouragingly, his eyes dark with anticipation. There’s no turning back now, and a part of you doesn’t want to.

With a gentle tug, Jimin helps you slide the skirt down your hips, letting it pool around your feet. You stand up, stepping out of it. Now, your body is fully on display in the black bikini that suddenly feels far more revealing than it did before.

Jimin’s smile widens as his gaze travels over you, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. “Wow, you look even better than I imagined,” he murmurs, his voice sending a thrill through you.

“She’s really pretty,” Jungkook’s hands trail up your sides, his touch light but possessive. “Let’s go in the pool for a swim,” he says softly, his eyes locked onto yours.

You’re momentarily thrown off by the sudden change of scenario, blinking in surprise. The intensity of the moment shifts, and both Jimin and Jungkook burst into soft giggles at your reaction. Before you can say anything, Jungkook takes your hands and, with a mischievous grin, pulls you up from the lounge chair.

In one swift motion, he lifts you into his arms, the strength in his hold both reassuring and thrilling. “Hold on tight,” he says, winking at you before he leaps into the pool, bringing you along with him.

“Huh!? Wahh!!” The water rushes around you, cool and refreshing as you both plunge beneath the surface.

When you resurface, laughing and splashing, Jimin stands at the edge, watching with amusement. “Wait for me!” he calls out before executing a perfect cannonball right between you and Jungkook, sending a wave of water crashing over both of you.

The three of you laugh as the playful atmosphere takes over. The tension from earlier dissolves into something lighthearted and fun. In the pool, you play a variety of games: splashing water at each other, racing from one end to the other, seeing who can hold their breath the longest, and even attempting to dunk each other under the water.

You become more familiar with them and vice versa.

Jimin and Jungkook take turns lifting you up and tossing you into the deeper end, your laughter echoing in the night. At one point, Jungkook even suggests a round of “chicken fight,” where Jimin hoists you onto his shoulders while Jungkook does the same with an imaginary opponent, both of you trying to push each other off into the water.

As the night progresses, the games become more relaxed, the three of you floating side by side, your bodies gently swaying with the ripples of the water.

Maybe this is all that’s going to happen. Maybe you were overthinking any other scenario. They were just teasing you because you were staring at them throughout the filming. You guys are gonna call it a night, right?

Right–

“Y/N, can I touch your breasts.”

The sudden question jolts you out of your thoughts, and you quickly stand up in the pool, water cascading off your skin. Jungkook is closer now, his gaze fixed on you with a seriousness that wasn’t there before. His eyes are darker, a smoldering intensity taking over the playful spark you’re used to.

You swallow hard, caught completely off guard. “Is there… a reason?” you manage to ask, your voice coming out shakier than you’d like. You are on the bigger side than most girls here, so it’s not entirely surprising that your chest caught his eye.

Jungkook steps even closer, his presence almost overwhelming. “I’m just curious,” he says softly, his voice low and almost hypnotic. “I want to see how they feel.”

Your heart races, every nerve in your body tingling as the situation escalates far beyond anything you’d imagined. You can’t believe this is happening, and yet, there’s something in the way he looks at you that makes it impossible to say no.

“Uh… sure,” you respond, barely above a whisper, your cheeks burning with a mixture of embarrassment and anticipation.

Jungkook’s hand moves slowly, deliberately, under the cup of your bikini top. His touch is tentative at first, as if he’s savoring the moment, but then his fingers press more firmly against your skin, exploring the softness with a deliberate curiosity. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel his thumb brush against your nipple, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

The sensation is heightened by the sight of his tattooed right arm, the intricate patterns of his sleeve adding a dark contrast to his skin. The ink swirls and curves with every movement, the bold lines almost mesmerizing as his hand continues its exploration.

You bite your lip, trying to stifle the sound that threatens to escape, but you can’t help the way your body reacts to his touch. The water feels warmer now, the atmosphere is charged with sexual tension. Luckily the cameras outside are now off, but you still can’t let the staff in the building next door hear anything going on.

Jimin, who had been floating nearby, quietly watching, now moves closer as well, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. “Jungkook,” he says softly, his voice a gentle reminder that he’s there too, “Don’t hog all the fun.”

Jungkook pulls back slightly, his hand still lingering on your skin as he glances at Jimin with a playful smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jimin leans closer, his gaze intent and voice soft. “I’m going to touch you too, is that okay?”

You nod, anticipation and nervousness swirling within you.

Jimin’s hand moves under the bikini cup to grasp your left breast, his touch gentle yet confident as he begins to explore. His fingers graze and play with your nipple, causing a shiver to run through your body. His thumb and forefingers move in careful back and forth motions. Tenderly tweaking them, carefully observing the way your face reacts to his every touch. He appears as if he is under a trance, and looks at you with such a need in his eyes.

The sensation is heightened by Jungkook, who leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“I’m gonna remove your top so I can suck on them a bit,” He says shyly, pausing for a moment to untie your bikini straps from the back of your neck and remove your bikini top, before lowering his head and softly pressing his lips to your nipple, his tongue darting out to tease.

His hands push your breasts together as his tongue caresses the inner curves of your tits, swirling his tongue across them. Your hands are on his shoulders as he continues, licking every inch of your chest, nuzzling his face between them and leaving kisses along the path. His tongue flicks your right nipple and your breathing hitches in your throat. Despite the water in the way, you can feel yourself becoming wet from below.

Jimin watches, clearly intrigued, and soon follows suit, his mouth finding the other breast. He rubs his mouth along it, giving it a couple of kisses then wrapping his lips around it. Suctioning and taking in the tit with such hungry delight.

You feel like you have whiplash, as you cry out from the warmth of their mouths on your skin, your back arches off of the wall of the pool. You want to touch them, reach for them, feel the silkiness of his hair in your grasp.

But Jimin doesn’t let up, taking his time licking slowly around your areola until your nipple perks up, hard and stiff. He flicks it with the tip of his tongue, and with the sudden cold from the night air, it feels all too much.

Jungkook looks up at you through his wet hair, through black lashes as he widens his mouth over your breast, his teeth bared, scraping the fat of your breast without ever breaking the skin. You cry out in a cluster of pleasure, maybe pain, as your senses are confused about all of the sensations at once.

Despite the feelings of them against you, their actions are synchronized and perfectly in tune with each other.

The pool’s gentle ripples and breeze seem to fade into the background as the focus narrows to the intimate touch of the two men. Their movements are tender and explorative, a blend of curiosity and desire that leaves you breathless and overwhelmed.

Your mind is fighting for dear life to stay sane and not lose to your animalistic urges,

“Let’s get out of the pool,” Jungkook commands, his voice firm yet enticing. “I want you to sit back on that daybed couch, baby.”

The shift in how he’s addressing you in the past 45 minutes is striking—both intimate and commanding. You nod, your body responding almost instinctively to his command as you all exit the pool. The three of you walk over to the poolside daybed, water dripping off your bodies, cooling in the night.

You sink into the plush cushions, the soft fabric cool against your heated skin. The daybed is large, designed for lounging, but right now, it feels like the center of something much more intense. Jungkook and Jimin kneel on either side of you, their knees pressing into the mattress as they lean over you, their wet bodies glistening under the soft pool lights.

You look at both of them, a daring thought forming in your mind. “I want to… lick at your chests too,” you say, your voice trembling slightly with a mix of eagerness, shyness and uncertainty.

The thought of exploring the contrasting textures of their skin, the difference in their nipples under your tongue, is almost overwhelming. You wonder how each will react, the mere anticipation making your breath catch.

Jimin’s eyes light up with a mischievous glint. “Go ahead,” he murmurs, his voice a blend of encouragement and desire. “We’re here for you.”

Jungkook watches intently, his gaze dark with expectation. “We’re all yours,” he says softly, his tone dripping with promise.

You reach out tentatively, your fingers brushing against their chests to feel the firmness of their muscles under your touch. The warmth of their skin sends a shiver down your spine as you explore the contours of their bodies. Your hands glide over Jungkook's chest first, pausing to tease his nipples with your fingertips gently. His breath hitches, a low hum of approval escaping his lips as he watches you with darkened eyes.

Encouraged by his reaction, you lean in closer, your mouth hovering just above his skin. You start with a soft kiss on his chest before taking one of his small chocolate nipples into your mouth, your tongue swirling around it in a slow, deliberate motion. Jungkook’s hand instinctively reaches up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he lets out a quiet groan of pleasure. His chest rises and falls more rapidly, his breathing growing heavier as you continue to tease him, alternating between gentle licks and firmer sucks.

The sound of his pleasure fuels your desire, making you want to elicit even more reactions from him. But as you pull back slightly, your gaze shifts to Jimin, who has been watching with equal intensity. His eyes are filled with anticipation, his lips slightly parted as if he’s already imagining what it will feel like when it’s his turn.

You move towards Jimin, your fingers tracing the outline of his chest as you did with Jungkook. His skin feels different—softer, yet still firm beneath your touch. Just below his right breast, he has a delicate script tattoo, the word "Nevermind" inked in elegant, flowing letters. You've always found it sexy, this handwritten tattoo adds a personal touch to his perfectly sculpted body.

His nipples are also differently shaped, bigger, and a bit lighter in color. You can feel the slight tremble in his body as you gently roll his nipple between your fingers before leaning in to taste him. Your mouth closes over his nipple, your tongue flicking against it in a teasing rhythm that draws a sharp inhale from him. His hand rests lightly on your shoulder, his grip tightening slightly as you continue to explore him with your mouth.

Jimin’s reactions are more subtle, yet no less intense. His soft moans mix with Jungkook’s heavier breathing, creating a symphony of sounds that only heighten your own arousal. The way their bodies respond to your touch, the contrast in their reactions, drives you to explore further, to discover just how much pleasure you can bring them.

You pull back slightly, glancing toward the large doors that separate the pool area from the rest of the accommodation. A flicker of concern crosses your mind, and you bite your lip before whispering, “You two need to stay quiet. We don’t want anyone overhearing us.”

Any slight mistake and you will lose your job, remember?

Jimin and Jungkook exchange a glance, their playful expressions tinged with a shared understanding. They nod, their eyes never leaving yours as they silently agree to your request. But just as you start to relax, your actions come to a stop when you feel them guiding your hands downwards, placing them on their lower bodies.

Your breath catches as your fingers wrap around their growing hardness, the heat and firmness of their cocks hidden under their swim trunks pressing against your palms. Jimin lets out a shaky exhale, leaning in close enough that you can feel his breath against your ear. “I’ve wanted to feel you so bad for months now,” he confesses, his voice low and thick with desire.

Jungkook, not to be outdone, adds in a hushed tone, his eyes glinting with a dark sparkle, “Me too. You don’t know how much you’ve been driving us crazy.”

Their words send a thrill through you, intensifying the moment. You didn’t realize you were having this effect on them. You look at them both, their shared longing evident in their eyes. Slowly, you pull their members out from their swim trunks, your heart racing as you position yourself between them, sinking to your knees on the cushioned daybed.

Oh fuck…

The size difference even extends to their dicks. Jungkook’s is much longer, with veins prominent on its sides. Jimin’s is shorter, but the girth is insane. You can’t help but imagine how they’d feel inside your pussy. No, you can’t get ahead of yourself Y/N. Not yet at least…

With a mixture of boldness and anticipation, you lean down, your lips parting as you begin to lick at their members, starting with soft, tentative strokes of your tongue. The sensation of their heated skin against your tongue is intoxicating, their quiet groans spurring you on. You alternate between them, your tongue tracing the veins along their lengths, savoring the contrast in texture and taste.

Jimin’s breath hitches as you swirl your tongue around the tip of his member, the salty taste mingling with the slickness of your saliva. His fingers suddenly tighten in your hair, but he remains obediently quiet, the tension in his body evident as he struggles to hold back his angelic voice.

You shift to Jungkook, taking him into your mouth with a slow, deliberate sucking. His quiet sounds of pleasure are like music to your ears, the low hums of approval vibrating. His hands rest on your shoulders, his grip firm but not forceful, guiding you as you take him deeper, feeling the way his body responds to every movement of your tongue.

At the same time, your hand reaches out to Jimin, wrapping around his throbbing length. You start stroking him with a steady rhythm, making sure to keep him engaged, the sensation of your fingers gliding over his slick skin keeping his arousal high. Jimin’s breath hitches, his eyes half-lidded with desire as he watches you.

The two of them try their best to stay quiet, but the occasional gasp, lust-filled phrases or whispered name of yours slips out, betraying their growing need.

“You’re so good at this PD nim…”

“Y/N, you’re so fucking fine…”

“Such a good girl, Y/N…”

“Fuck, right there…”

The thrill of their restraint only heightens your own arousal, driving you to explore them further, your lips and tongue working in tandem to bring them closer to the edge.

While working your mouth over Jungkook, you feel Jimin’s hand sliding up your body, his fingers brushing against your wet skin before cupping your breast. His thumb grazes over your nipple, teasing it to a hardened peak, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through you. The dual feeling—Jimin’s touch on your breast and Jungkook’s heat filling your mouth—intensifies the moment, driving you to pleasure them both with renewed focus.

The tension in the atmosphere thickens, all your quiet breaths turning into ragged gasps. You can feel the subtle changes in their bodies, the way their muscles tighten, and the way their grips on you grow firmer. The anticipation builds, and you know they’re close, teetering on the edge of release.

Jimin is the first to break the silence, his voice low and filled with need. “Y/N… can I come on your chest?” His eyes are dark with lust, the words almost a plea.

Jungkook isn’t far behind, his voice breathless and shaky as he adds, “And I–I want to come in your mouth. Is that okay?”

The heat in their words sends a shiver down your spine. You pause, looking up at them, their faces flushed with desire.

“Y-Yes that’s fine with me,” You nod, your consent clear in your eyes and the slight smile that tugs at your lips.

With their requests granted, you resume your ministrations with renewed intensity. Your hands work in tandem, stroking their members with a firm, steady rhythm while your tongue flicks and teases them both. The taste of them lingers on your tongue, salty and intoxicating, driving you to push them further, to bring them to the edge of ecstasy.

Their breaths quicken, and you can tell they’re both struggling to hold back, to savor the moment as long as possible. But the pleasure is overwhelming, and soon their restraint begins to falter.

Jungkook’s voice is the first to crack, a desperate whisper as he warns you, “I’m close… so close…”

Jimin removes his hand from your hair. Instead, Jungkook’s hand, adorned with intricate tattoos and the bold "ARMY" inked across his knuckles, slides from your shoulder to your hair this time. The grip is firm and possessive, his fingers weaving into your strands with a fierce, almost primal hold. The veins beneath his tattooed skin pulsate as he uses his arm to guide you closer, pushing himself deeper into you with each powerful thrust. His tattooed bicep flexes with every movement, demonstrating his strength and control, while the rhythmic thrusts become more urgent.

Jimin's breath hitches as soft, erotic moans escape his lips, each sound laced with urgency to let go. His voice quivers, with a strained yet sensual whisper, “Me too… I’m going to come…” The words tumble out in a series of ragged breaths

With one last, deliberate stroke of your hand and a final suck, you push them both over the edge.

“F-Fuck!” Jimin lets out a guttural groan as he releases, his hot seed spilling onto your breasts, painting your skin with his pleasure. The warmth of it spreads across your breasts, the sensation almost surreal as you continue to stroke him, milking out every last drop.

At the same time, Jungkook’s hips buck slightly as he comes, the hot, salty taste of his release flooding your mouth. You swallow him down eagerly, your tongue swirling around him to milk him of every last bit. The taste of him lingers, warm and slightly bitter, but satisfying in a way that leaves you wanting more.

The sounds they make—those broken moans, the gasps of pleasure—echo in your ears, a symphony of gratification. Their bodies tremble with the aftershocks of their orgasms, their hands gentle but insistent as they guide you through the final moments of their release.

When they’ve finally come down from the high, their breathing ragged but steadying, they look down at you with a mix of awe and satisfaction. The sight of you, your chest slick with Jimin’s release and your lips still wet from Jungkook seems to stir something deeper in them—a shared sense of intimacy that goes beyond mere physical pleasure. Your fingers move instinctively, collecting Jimin’s release and bringing it to your lips, savoring the taste as you clean yourself, erasing the evidence of what just transpired. The sensation is both surreal and thrilling, the intimacy of the moment lingering in the air.

Jungkook's voice breaks through the haze, his tone a mix of innocence and desire. “PD-nim, can we do more with you?” His eyes sparkle with the same enthusiasm you’ve seen during filming, making it nearly impossible to deny him.

“H-Huh!? Oh…” you stammer, caught off guard. That look in his eyes—it’s almost impossible to resist. But a small voice in the back of your mind reminds you that you should be heading back before the other staff starts wondering where you are.

“C’mon, we’ll be quick!” Jimin adds, his voice smooth and coaxing, making it even harder to stick to your resolve. “We can eat you out, or we can penetr—”

Before he can finish, another voice cuts through the tension, startling you. “Oh… so that’s what you guys were doing?”

You turn your head sharply to see Taehyung standing there, now wearing swim trunks, with a smirk playing on his lips. Your heart races, the sudden realization hitting you like a wave. “Oh my God, I forgot about Taehyung…” you gasp, instinctively trying to cover yourself, though it’s far too late for modesty.

“Hey, I thought you were going to head to bed?” Jimin narrows his eyes at the slightly younger man. He must’ve been watching you all this entire time, he thinks.

He chuckles, an amused glint in his eyes as he takes in the scene. “I thought you guys were still playing in the pool or something… but I’m not surprised things ended up this way. You two are always up to shit like this.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, clearly unimpressed yet intrigued.

“Huh?” you manage to squeak out, your mind reeling. Always up to shit like this? What’s that supposed to mean–

Taehyung’s smirk deepens, and he steps closer. “Anyways, I’m bored. Let me join in too,” he says casually with a boxy smile, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I won’t disappoint heh~”

He winks. HE WINKS!

The three members of the BTS maknae line look at you deviously, waiting to pounce on you at your command.

“I don’t think we should be–”

“Are you sure?” Jimin and Jungkook say in unison.

“I… “ The title of the show is going to come back to haunt you.

“I’m not sure…?” You can’t find yourself to say no, having already gone to the deep end.

You will be closer to getting fired if you get caught at this rate, but to hell with it, “Okay, fine!”

And immediately, they’re all over your body, reigniting the hidden flame in your heart that reminds you how much you loved them as a fan years before. You won’t survive this.

“Come over here,” Taehyung murmurs, his voice deep and commanding as he settles against the pillows of the daybed. He props himself up, making sure he’s comfortable, then motions for you to crawl in front of him.

Your heart races as you move into position, with Jungkook and Jimin on each side of you, their eyes dark with lust. The daybed is deep enough that you’re perfectly nestled between them.

As you get closer to Taehyung, you feel his hands sliding up your thighs, tugging lightly at the waistband of your bikini bottoms. You gasp softly, a thrill running through you as he pulls them down slowly, exposing your wetness. The sensation sends a shiver through you, heightening your anticipation and eagerness to get this over with. You lift your hips slightly to help him slide them off completely, leaving you fully exposed.

Taehyung’s eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire.

He props himself up with the pillows behind his head, his hands settling on your hips as he guides you closer. “Sit on my face,” he tells you, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

Your breath catches at the bold command, but the heat in his eyes, the way his hands grip your hips, sends a rush of excitement through you. You move to straddle him, your heart pounding as you position yourself over his face. Jungkook and Jimin remain close, their hands brushing over your body, adding to the growing heat between you all.

As you lower yourself onto his waiting mouth, the first touch of his tongue against your most sensitive spot sends a shockwave of pleasure through your entire body.

“A-Ah~ T-Taehyung…” You gasp, your fingers gripping the daybed as Taehyung’s tongue begins to work its magic, teasing and tasting you with skillful precision.

Taehyung’s tongue explores you, from your clit to your entrance. His mouth working in a rhythm that leaves you breathless, and your body trembling with the intensity of it all.

Jimin and Jungkook are on either side of you, their hands moving to your breasts, where they each take a breast in their grasp. Their mouths soon follow, lips closing over your nipples as they begin to suck and tease you with their tongues once more. The dual sensation of Taehyung’s mouth on you and the boys’ attention on your breasts sends your mind reeling, pleasure coursing through you to unleash an orgasm. But you need to be patient and let it continue consuming you.

Jungkook’s hand slides down, tugging off Taehyung’s trunks with a practiced ease before wrapping his fingers around Taehyung’s impressive length. The sight makes your eyes widen, but you aren’t entirely surprised by their actions—after all, you’ve seen how touchy BTS are with one another. Even filming earlier in the day and even back in the States. But this? Seeing them work together to push you to the brink of pleasure only makes you even hornier.

And Taehyung’s dick… it’s massive, much bigger than the other two. The way his tan skin contrasts with the thick, veined shaft is mesmerizing, almost too much to take in. You can’t help but imagine what it would feel like inside you, making you ache with the anticipation of trying it next time.

Jimin, not to be outdone, reaches over to stroke Jungkook, his touch slow and deliberate, making sure to keep him just as aroused. His free hand slips down to touch himself, fingers wrapping around his own length as he matches the pace. The sensation of their hands moving in tandem, coupled with the attention they’re lavishing on you, makes your body tremble with need.

You ride Taehyung’s face, grinding down against his mouth as his tongue works magic on you, drawing out every ounce of pleasure he can. Your hands clutch the edges of the daybed for support, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you lose yourself in the sensations they’re giving you. Since you’re facing outwards, Taehyung’s hands slide down to grab your ass, squeezing the soft flesh as he pulls you even closer, deepening the connection between his mouth and your most sensitive spot. His grip is firm and possessive, his fingers digging into your skin as he devours you with renewed intensity. He gives it a slap, which makes you cringe before you go back to indulging in the pleasure.

The feeling of the two men’s mouths on your breasts, Taehyung’s tongue inside you, and the sight of their hands pleasuring each other is almost too much to bear. The pleasure builds to an unbearable peak, your body quivering with the need to release.

Jimin and Jungkook suck harder on your nipples, their teeth grazing them just enough to send jolts of pleasure straight to your core. Taehyung’s tongue flicks and swirls with expert precision, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

And then, finally, it all becomes too much. The pleasure explodes within you, sending you spiraling into an intense orgasm that leaves you gasping for breath. Your body tenses, your thighs clenching around Taehyung’s head as you ride out the waves of ecstasy, the sensation amplified by the boys’ continued ministrations.

As the last tremors of your orgasm fade, you collapse forward slightly, your body spent and trembling. Taehyung gently guides you off him, his lips slick with your arousal, and you fall onto the daybed, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook quickly follow, their own bodies shuddering as they reach their peaks, their releases mingling, landing onto each others bodies or the fabric beneath them.

Now the three of you lay there, breathless and spent, with limbs piled on top of each other. The air is thick with the scent of sex and satisfaction, however a yearning for more still remains. The outdoor area is quiet, save for the sound of your heavy breathing, as you all come down from the high of your shared pleasure.

Jungkook leans in close, his voice low and filled with unfulfilled desire. “I’m so eager to fuck you, but I’ll wait until tomorrow after the itinerary is done,” he murmurs, his eyes smoldering with lust as he looks down at you.

Jimin, still tenderly stroking your skin, adds with a soft smile, “We don’t want you getting into trouble, PD-nim. We’ll be patient.”

You manage a weak smile, your mind swirling with the aftershocks of what just happened. “How have the staff not conveniently come in to check on us?” you wonder aloud, your voice shaky with exhaustion and disbelief.

The three of them exchange a glance, a shared understanding passing between them.

Don’t say that the staff are aware that they’re doing this…!? Taehyung’s words from earlier were already… odd, but you decide not to think too hard on it right now. You need to head back anyway, so let’s keep this drama-free, you think to yourself. Wouldn’t be the first time you hear about idols doing these things.

They begin to clean you up, wiping away the evidence of your intense encounter. They’re gentle, their touches soothing as they take care of you, ensuring that you’re comfortable before helping you to your feet to get dressed.

They walk you to the door, each of them pressing a lingering kiss to your lips before they see you out, their eyes filled with satisfaction. You step out, your mind reeling from the events that just transpired.

“Oh my god…” you say to yourself in a whisper.

As you walk away from the daybed, you can’t help but wonder how you ended up in this situation—tangled up with the three members of BTS in a way you never could have imagined. The memory of their hands, their mouths, their words lingers with you, a heady reminder of the connection you’ve just shared. And though you know the risks, the dangers of what you’ve done, you can’t bring yourself to regret a single moment.

With a deep breath, you start heading back to your accommodation, telling yourself you still have more days of this show’s filming to go. And more chance encounters with them as well.

The End????

A/N: HAPPY SURPRISE ONE SHOT DROP! OKAY. ALSO I HAD PLANNED TO BLUE BALL YOU GUYS AND NOT GIVE YOU A TAE SCENE BUT RAE SAID I SHOULD WRITE IT SO I DID! I've seen all y'all thirsting over are you sure?! and honestly, the maknae line really FED US SO WELL WITH THIS SHOW. also never in my life did i think there would be no censoring of their bodies, but thank you god for allowing us to indulge in their beauty and cute antics lmao. if you somehow survived this and made it to the end, thank you for reading and please let me know what you think or like bc i was going THROUGH IT writing this 🥴 if it wasn’t good, i am so sorry for wasting your time. 😭

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cumironi · 6 months ago

Text

MY BOY SUCH A PRETTY CRIER : GOJO SATORU

my boyfriend has the prettiest eyes,” . . . you love your boyfriend— gojo satoru's eyes, you always have, until you see him crying for the first time, and you can't help but need to see those eyes, glisten with tears, every chance you get.

warning. obsessive! gojo satoru, established relationship, mentioned of suicide, blood mention, obsessive reader, slight dark, toxic! reader.

wc. 6,6k ( art belong to the artist, devider belong to cafekitsune )

it's glisten...

gojo satoru's blue, azure irises glisten under the moonlight like little twinkling stars, silking with his tears. you were mesmerized and for a moment your erotic movement stammered, slower, slower, slower . . . and stopped. it hurt your chest, your lung, like the air just got reap by fingers with pointed nails, or razor-sharped teeth, you named it.

you gasp for air, holding them down inside your reaped lungs. it's suffocating, how his eyes make you feel. and suddenly, you can feel everything, your senses sharpen— the way his heart is beating like thunder underneath your palms, cocoon by his ribcage, the way his girth, his throbbing girth twitching inside you.

“baby...” he breathlessly calls you.

gojo's nail digging is dullest to your chubby rear, silently begging you to move and get back to work, but no.. you stay silent for a moment, drowning in his blue eyes you never realize as blue as the ocean, as deep as one before. you always knew it was pretty, but never as this pretty, it's breathtaking, it's soul-sucking, it's. . . gut wrenching, pain, because you will never have eyes like his, you will never, ever, find eyes like his with other men, other person.

“beautiful..” you whisper.

your trembling hand gently makes its way to kiss his cheek, thumb dancing across the skin to push away the tears selfishly. only you, it's only you who can get this close to his eyes, it is you.

“you are so beautiful,” soft, breathless whisper kissing your lips before you lean closer, skin to skin with his forehead. it was crystal clear, his eyes. . . so celar you can read his mind through it, see his soul laid bare, feel his blood and his heart beating faster each second- looking straight at you like its ready to burst his ribcage open nad run to you with all the blood, the flesh, even the bone.

one blink, two blink, and three blink it takes gojo to clear the glisten effect on his eyes, letting the last tears fall freely down to his cheeks. a small frown makes its way to your forehead, so you found your hips moving slowly, your glisten clit grinding against gojo's skin, his cock twitching and soft moan leaving his pink, swollen lips.

soft mean tear from your throat, past your lips the moment tears flooded in gojo's eyes. “don't close your eyes, baby,” you whisper, like a witch chanted a mantra. gojo nod eagerly, bewitched by you. it was sinister, your smile, drowning in love and something more. the look on your beautiful face, the one where gojo never saw. he was mesmerize with the way you look at him. how your eyes practically sparkling, your cheeks blushing madly, your eyes glue to him like he is the center of your world, and gojo was doomed.

after that unforgettable night, you find yourself completely immersed in the depth of gojo’s eyes, as if drawn into a boundless ocean of their beauty. every nuance of their color becomes an intricate tapestry that you cannot help but unravel. imagine, if you will, the way his eyes might transform under the tender embrace of a sunset, their natural brilliance kissed by hues of molten gold and soft amber, weaving a breathtaking symphony of warmth and light.

“hey, baby,” his voice drifts softly, like a breeze stirring you from the quiet of your thoughts, his words threading through the haze that clouds your mind.

you blink once, then twice, and a third time, as if awakening from a dream spun of shadows and whispers, until your gaze finds his—those eyes, blue as a restless sea, now roiling with a tempest of fury. it’s a sight that steals the breath from your lungs, a depthless anger that crashes like waves against the shores of his calm, threatening to sweep you away. his stare is fierce, wild. . . cannibalism lookalike even, and you feel something shift within you, a fullness that blooms in your chest, heavy and warm. his palm, cold against your flushed skin, cradles your cheek, and you lean into his touch, drawn like a moth to flame, craving the chill that soothes the heat of your racing heart.

his knuckles, adorned in the brutal artistry of bruises, are stained with the blood of those who dared to lay hands upon you, each mark a testament to the violence he’s wrought in your name. once again, his knuckles, oh, they are a map of violence—a testament to the ruin he hath wrought upon those foolish enough to lay a hand upon what he cherishes most: you, oh you. . . the love of his life.. bruises bloom like dark violets upon his skin, and the crimson of blood lingers, a stark reminder of his ferocity, his unrelenting need to protect, to possess, to guard you as fiercely as the lion doth its pride.

they bear the story of his wrath, of a love so vehement it spills over into rage, uncontained and ferocious. he stands as a fortress, unyielding and unbreakable, a sentinel who guards not with words but with fists and fury, and in his eyes, you see a promise—a vow that none shall harm you and live to see the sun again. his touch, a chilled caress upon your cheek, pulls you closer still, and you lean into it, seeking solace in the coolness of his palm, a balm against the heat of his wrath.

“baby, are you alright?” he asks, his voice a deep, soft rumble that vibrates through your very bones, soothing and stirring all at once. it washes over you, a tide that pulls you under, and suddenly your legs betray you, trembling beneath the weight of it all, the sheer intensity of his presence. you feel yourself melt, your knees weak, the world spinning as if gravity has turned traitor, and you begin to sink. but he is there, always there, swift and sure, catching you in the safety of his embrace, his strong arms wrapping around your trembling form, pulling you flush against the solid heat of his chest.

“please, hold me,” you whisper, voice barely a breath, still lost in the storm that rages within his gaze. there’s a desperation in your plea, a need to be held, to be anchored amidst the chaos that threatens to drown you both. his hold tightens, as if he could fuse you to him, make you one with his own flesh and bone, and you feel the world steady under the weight of his arms. his scent, warm and familiar, envelops you, a heady mix of comfort and danger that sends a shiver racing down your spine.

there is an obsession in the way he looks at you now, an all-consuming need that borders on madness, a love that knows no bounds, no reason, no restraint. for in that gaze, you are not merely seen—you are worshipped, adored, the very center of his universe, hell, you are a god to gojo satoru. his eyes, burning with the light of a thousand suns, speak not of mere affection but of a devotion so profound that it eclipses all else. every breath you take, every beat of your heart, is caught up in the maelstrom of his love, swirling endlessly in the vortex of his gaze.

he holds you so close, close enough that you can feel the rhythm of his heartbeat, a fierce, steady drum that matches the frantic cadence of your own. your hands find their way around his neck, fingers threading through the silken strands of his hair, pulling him closer, closer, until there is no space left between you. your lips meet his in a fervent kiss, a clash of need and hunger, tongues dancing in a tangled, breathless frenzy. it is a kiss that speaks of survival, of gratitude, of a love that is both a sanctuary and a storm.

he tastes like fury and devotion, a bitter-sweetness that lingers on your tongue, and you drink him in, greedy for more. his grip on you is unrelenting, as if letting go would mean losing you to the abyss of his own making, and you cling to him with equal fervor, your bodies a tangled mess of limbs and longing. in that moment, there is no past, no future—only the now, the heady rush of his breath mingling with yours, the feel of his hands on your skin, the unspoken promises that pass between you with every stolen breath.

he holds you as if you are the very air he breathes- well, indeed you are, as if he could will you into his soul and keep you there, keeping warm and alive unthe the flesh of his ribcage, close to his heart, safe and cherished, forevermore. his eyes, still brimming with that furious fire, soften at the edges as he kisses you back with a reverence that makes your heart ache. it’s a kiss that binds, that claims, that seals you to him in a way that words never could, and as you pull away, breathless and dazed, you know that this is where you belong—wrapped in his arms, lost in the depths of his gaze, loved with a passion that burns brighter than the stars.

when he pulls away, a thin, glistening thread of desire still lingers, stretching between your parted lips over the tongue—a tether that binds you in this shared breath, this dangerous dance. his gaze meets yours, those blue eyes still ablaze with a furious tempest, but within their storm, there flickers a flame of love, fierce and unyielding. he looks down at you, a twisted smile curling at his lips, a grin that speaks of chaos and carnage, of a madness that holds the world at bay. “i'm sorry those fools dared to lay hands upon you, but they will trouble you no more, my love,” he murmurs, voice low and threaded with menace, a vow spoken with a lover’s gentleness yet edged in steel. his hands, calloused and sure, cup your cheeks, cradling you as though you are the most precious, fragile thing in all the realms.

together, you both cast your gaze down upon the bodies sprawled upon the cold, unforgiving ground, their forms marred by bruises and the remnants of his wrath. they lie there, wet and lifeless as fallen leaves, scattered by the tempest of his fury, no longer a threat but mere echoes of their own folly. and yet, even amidst the wreckage of his rage, there is a strange beauty in the chaos he has wrought—a dark symphony of love and violence, a tribute to his devotion, twisted and true.

“come, let me take you home, my love,” he murmurs once more, the words a soft caress against your skin, as his lips find yours in a kiss that seals the promise of his protection. you are stunned, breathless, and your eyes glisten with a fervor that matches his own—a wild, consuming adoration for the man before you, this maniacal figure who stands between you and the world. to love him is to dance on the edge of a blade, a perilous waltz that thrills and terrifies in equal measure.

you look up at him, smiling so, so, so sweetly, mirror the same menace, at satoru gojo, your beautiful, dangerous obsession, and your heart swells with a love so potent it feels as if it might burst from your chest. it is sick, this mutual madness that binds you, a passion laced with peril and an affection born of fury. he is a storm wrapped in human form, a threat to all that dares to stand in his path, yet to you, he is a haven, a divine madness that sets your soul alight.

his eyes—ah, those orbs of azure fire! they are the boundless seas wherein your soul doth drown a thousand times. in calmer tides you have known them—playful, serene, a gentle mirth that sparkles like sunlight upon the morn’s dew. yet now, behold, they blaze with tempest’s fury, aflame with wrath as the heavens in their ire. 'tis as though the very stars have kindled rage within those depths, a storm that seethes and seizes all that dare to meet its gaze. and in that wild and furious tempest, you, undone, do find your heart ensnared anew, aflutter as a wanton moth to flame.

for every glance he grants, each furious flicker of those eyes, doth pull you deeper still, till all the world is but a distant whisper, and you are lost—utterly, wholly—in the unfathomable blue of his gaze. to see him thus, to feel his ire burn not at you but for you, sets your blood to riotous fervor, and lo, your cheeks do bloom with that sweet crimson of youth’s first fond blush. oh, what madness is this! to love so fiercely, to find in rage a tender, quiet adoration that makes you very breath catch, your heart sing out its foolish tune of love renewed.

his eyes are not mere mirrors of his soul; they are the very tempest that doth rage within his breast, a tumult of love and wrath entwined. 'tis a sight both fearsome and fair, for in his fury lies the pledge of his protection, a devotion that doth border upon the divine. how can i resist? his gaze is your sun, your moon, your guiding star, and you, poor wretch, are but a humble worshipper at the altar of his gaze. to see him thus, to know his anger burns for you, not against you, is to be wrapped in the warm embrace of his fiercest love.

aye, 'tis true—each time those eyes, so fierce, so wild, do meet your own, your heart doth flutter as a captive bird newly freed. in those depths, you see not just the fury of the storm, but the quiet promise of a love that will not fade, that will not falter. it is obsession, a fire that consumes and yet does not destroy, but rather, sanctifies. and so you fall, endlessly, hopelessly, into that blue abyss, where anger and love are but two sides of the same coin, where you are his, and he is yours, and the world may be damned, so long as his eyes remain your haven, your undoing, your everlasting delight.

in his arms, you are both prisoner and queen, worshipped in the sanctuary of his embrace, held aloft by the sheer force of his adoration. it is a love that defies reason, a devotion that flirts with destruction, and yet, it is the most beautiful thing you have ever known. for in his fury, you find a devotion unbroken, and in his danger, a divinity that shines brighter than the stars. it is wild, it is reckless, it is divine—and you would have it no other way.

you open the door, and there he stands, drenched from head to toe, rain pouring down like a curtain of sorrow, clinging to him as if the heavens themselves weep for his misfortune. gojo satoru, usually so untouchable, now a figure cut from despair, shivers in the chill of the storm, his white hair plastered to his forehead, rivulets of water tracing the sharp lines of his face. his eyes, usually alight with mischief and boundless confidence, are now dimmed, clouded with a sadness so deep it seems to swallow the very light that once defined him.

“go home, satoru,” you say, your voice firm, though your heart clenches at the sight of him.

he doesn’t move, just stands there on your doorstep, trembling from the cold, every shiver of his body a silent plea for your warmth, your forgiveness, oh, your love. his gaze locks onto yours, and in those azure depths, you see a man unraveled, a soul laid bare. he looks so lost, as if every ounce of the bravado that once shielded him has been stripped away, leaving only raw, aching need. he is like a stray pup, kicked and abandoned in the dead of night, caught in a relentless downpour with nowhere to turn but to you.

“please,” his eyes seem to say, though his lips do not move, as if the very act of speaking would shatter what little remains of his pride. the sadness in his gaze is a weight, heavy and suffocating, pressing down on your chest until it hurts to breathe. he stands there, drenched and desperate, the rain mingling with what you can’t tell are tears or the relentless downpour, and you can’t help but feel your resolve waver.

he’s begging you without words, a silent supplication for the love he once held so carelessly, now desperate to grasp it again as if it were the last tether to his fading light. and in that moment, you see him not as the invincible person, not as the man who commands respect and fear, but as someone who is utterly, devastatingly human—broken and yearning, with eyes that plead for a mercy only you can grant.

his body trembles, not just from the cold, but from the unbearable burden of your absence, his breath hitching in the back of his throat as he stands before you, stripped of all bravado. his eyes, usually so filled with boundless confidence, are now heavy with the weight of his own despair, looking up at you with a sadness so profound it seems to echo through the storm. he caught in the relentless fury of the night, shivering and soaked, eyes pleading for the warmth and solace of your embrace—a creature lost in the dark, cast adrift without the guiding light of your love.

“just go home, i don't want to be with you,” you say, voice cutting through the rain like a cruel, deliberate blade.

and just like that, the dam breaks. the tears well up in his eyes, those brilliant blue pools now shimmering with unshed sorrow, glistening in the dim light like shards of broken glass. it’s a sight you’ve longed to see, a vulnerability that he so rarely shows, and for a fleeting moment, you feel a sick satisfaction bloom within you. his pain, raw and unfiltered, stirs something deep, something dark, as you watch the strongest sorcerer reduced to nothing more than a man undone by the weight of his own emotions.

his eyes, usually so full of power and certainty, now shimmer with a desperate plea, tears spilling over as he chokes back a sob. you've never seen anything more beautiful, and in this twisted, fevered moment, you’ve never felt more alive, never fallen harder for him than right now, with his pride in ruins at your feet.

“please, baby,” he whispers, voice cracking under the strain, “i’ll be less annoying, i'll lest of anything that driving you away from me, i’ll do whatever you want—just, please.” the words tumble out, desperate and frantic, as he promises to change, to bend, to be whatever version of himself you demand. he stands before you, a king stripped of his crown, reduced to nothing but a man begging at your mercy, and the sight of it sends a shiver of dark delight down your spine.

it’s sick, the way you revel in this power over him, the way his tears make your heart race and your lips curl into the faintest of smiles. you are obsessed with this dance, this twisted game where his suffering is your satisfaction, where his pleading eyes are the sweetest of victories. he is yours, wholly and completely, and you know that he would break a thousand times over just to keep you from walking away. you will be the death of him, and once, you whisper and spitting on his grave, everyone will watch him crawling back from the death, and once again, he will be lying on your feet for your mercy, for you to love him, all bones and flesh.

and yet, you find yourself pushing further, testing the limits of his devotion, just to see how far he will go. it is a cruel, intoxicating power, to have someone like satoru gojo reduced to tears, and you drink it in like a forbidden elixir, sweet and heady. he is beautiful in his despair, and as he stands there, drenched and pleading, you can’t help but fall for him all over again, tangled in the twisted love that binds you both in this endless, obsessive dance.

gojo falls to his knees, the mighty sorcerer brought low, his arms winding around your legs with a grip that trembles like a leaf caught in a tempest. his body shakes with the cold and the weight of his despair, his once towering presence now reduced to a man clinging to the last threads of hope. he presses his forehead against your knees, rain-soaked and broken, as if your touch alone could redeem him, could stitch together the fragments of his shattered pride.

he looks up at you, eyes glistening with unshed tears, a kaleidoscope of heartbreak and desperation painted across his face—a portrait of a man undone. there is something so exquisitely pathetic in his gaze, a rawness that strips away the veneer of invincibility, leaving only the bare, trembling truth of his need for you. his eyes, those brilliant blue oceans, are now brimming with tears that spill over, tracing a path down his cheeks like the first rains of spring breaking the drought, each drop glistening like a jewel in the pale light.

and you, standing above him, feel a dark, intoxicating thrill twist within you. it is the beauty of his suffering that ensnares your heart, the way his tears catch the light like shattered stars, casting shadows of sorrow and longing. you are captivated by the sight of him, the strongest man you know brought to his knees, eyes pleading, voice breaking as he begs for the one thing he cannot command—your love.

“please,” he murmurs, the word a fragile whisper, his breath warm against your skin, “love me again.” his voice cracks, a jagged sound that splinters the air, and his tears fall faster, the dam of his restraint collapsing in the face of his need. he is beautiful in his anguish, a vision of tragic grace, and you cannot help but fall in love all over again, lost in the raw, unguarded emotion that spills from him like a river bursting its banks.

to see him like this, vulnerable and pleading, is to witness the unraveling of a myth—a god brought to earth, stripped of all but his humanity. and in this moment, he is more magnificent than ever, his sorrow a canvas on which your love paints itself anew. his tears are a symphony of the heart, each drop a note that sings to your darkest desires, pulling you deeper into the depths of this obsessive, all-consuming devotion.

his eyes, those eyes that have seen worlds beyond, now reflect only you, and in their tear-streaked depths, you find a love so fierce, so fervent, that it threatens to consume you whole. it is a love that does not ask, but demands; a love that kneels at your feet and begs for mercy, not for itself, but for the man who weeps before you. and as you look down at him, his tear-stained face so achingly beautiful, you know that you are lost to him—lost to this love that is as twisted and fragile as the threads of his tears, a love that binds you both in a dance of pain and passion that neither of you can bear to end.

as he stumbles forward, falling to his knees with a shudder that ripples through his entire body, the rain pouring down on him like the heavens themselves are weeping for his plight. his hands grasp at your legs, fingers clinging to you with a desperate strength, as though you are the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. his head bows low, forehead pressing against your knees, and his breath comes in ragged, frantic gasps, each one a struggle against the sobs that threaten to tear him apart.

“please,” he begs, voice fractured and raw, as if the words themselves are tearing through him, leaving him gasping for air. “please don’t turn me away. i can’t—i can’t do this without you. i’m dying, i swear, i’m dying without you,” his voice breaks on the last word, shattering into a desperate wail that pierces through the rain, his body convulsing with the force of his sobs.

“i’ll be anything, anyone you need me to be,” he continues, his eyes wild with a terror that’s almost primal, like a man staring into the abyss. “i’ll change, i’ll never be too much again, just… just don’t leave me here, not like this. i can’t breathe, i can’t even think without you. please, i’m begging you—don’t let go of me.” his words come out in a rush, frantic and broken, his voice thick with tears that he no longer bothers to hide.

the world seeming to tilt on its axis, his pride scattered like the raindrops that pool around him. his fingers find your hand, clutching with a desperation that makes your heart stutter, his grip fierce as though you are the last tether to a life he can no longer navigate without you. his head bows low, forehead pressing against your knees, and the sound of his breath is a ragged, broken thing, a symphony of despair that rises with the rhythm of the rain.

“i'm sorry,” he rasps, his voice a mere whisper against the howl of the storm, but there is a rawness in it that slices through the night, a vulnerability that lays him bare. “please, don’t do this. i am undone without you. every breath is agony, every beat of my heart a hollow echo. i am nothing—nothing without your love to guide me.” his words are a litany of longing, each syllable soaked in the salt of unshed tears, his gaze lifting to meet yours with the fragile hope of a man on the brink of ruin.

he looks up at you, eyes wide and shining with tears, the blue of them dull and hollow without the spark of your love. they are the eyes of a man on the brink, staring down the barrel of a life without the only thing that has ever truly mattered. his breath stutters, each exhale a choked, desperate plea, and his fingers dig into the fabric of your clothes, clinging to you as if the very act of holding on is the only thing keeping his heart beating.

his eyes, those brilliant blue depths that once held the light of a thousand stars, now brim with the bleakness of a sky stripped bare, his tears mingling with the rain that slides down his cheeks. he is a man unmade, all bravado stripped away, leaving only the raw ache of his need, the sheer, unrelenting force of his devotion that coils around your heart like ivy.

“please,” he whispers again, his voice so faint it’s almost lost to the sound of the rain. “i need you. more than air, more than anything. without you, there’s nothing. there’s no me, no us, no world i want to live in. i’m dying here, right in front of you, and the only thing that can save me is you. i fucking swear to god, baby, i will kill you and then kill myself if you don't love me again.”

his head drops, forehead pressing into the cold, wet ground as his body shakes with the force of his sobs, each one wrenching through him like a violent storm. he clutches at you with a desperation that borders on madness, his entire being consumed by the need to feel your arms around him, to hear you say that everything will be okay. he is a man unraveling, a soul laid bare in the rain, and all he has left is this—this pitiful, desperate plea for the one thing that could mend his shattered heart.

“i love you,” he chokes out, his voice breaking, his hands trembling against your legs. “i love you so much it hurts. please… i can’t—i can’t do this without you. i’d rather die right here, right now, than spend another second without you in my arms.” and as he kneels there, drenched and broken, begging for a mercy only you can grant, you see the truth etched in every tear-streaked line of his face: without you, he is nothing but a man lost to the storm, drowning in a sea of his own despair.

he bows his head lower, his sobs blending with the symphony of the rain, each drop a soft requiem for the love he fears he has lost. he clings to you as if you are his salvation, his lifeline, the only thing standing between him and the abyss. and in the depth of his gaze, you see it—the unspoken truth that without you, satoru gojo is not the invincible, untouchable force the world sees, but a man who is willing to lay down everything, even his pride, for just one more chance to be held in the light of your love.

your fingers weave through the silver strands of his hair, gripping tightly as if tethering yourself to the very essence of him. the tension draws a soft, desperate whine from his lips, a sound so sweet it echoes through your veins, setting your blood aflame. your bodies, bared to the night's whisper, tangle together in a dance of unspoken need, your breath hitching in rhythm with his as you find solace in the storm of each other's presence.

perched upon his lap, you feel the solid strength of him beneath you, his muscles taut and trembling, his arms wrapped around your waist with a fervor that speaks of a desperate, consuming devotion. you lean closer, your breaths mingling in the scant space between, and capture his lips in a fervent kiss, tongues entwining like vines that have waited lifetimes to grow together. it’s a collision of hunger and longing, a silent plea wrapped in the taste of him that floods your senses and drowns you in the depths of his presence.

“oh, baby— fuck, ’miss you,” he grunt, his cock twitching inside you— losing his mind how divine your gummy walls hugging him.

his grip tightens as though the very essence of his existence hinges on holding you close, as if the mere thought of losing you again would shatter him beyond repair. his eyes, half-lidded and hazy with longing, mirror the fervor that burns in your own, each glance a shared promise that defies the world's attempts to pull you apart. your breaths mingle in the space between, warm and uneven, and the quiet sounds of pleasure that escape your lips mingle with his, a symphony of yearning that drowns out the rain still drumming against the windowpanes.

his hair, still wet from the downpour, clings to his forehead in unruly strands, a testament to the chaos of moments past and your fingers trace the delicate line of his jaw, committing every inch of him to memory as if to carve him into the very fabric of your soul. yet even in the wild disarray, there is a beauty to him that makes your heart stutter—a raw, vulnerable magnificence that only you are privy to in these stolen moments.

his lips part, tremble against yours, a soft gasp escaping as your bodies move in tandem, meet, a slow and deliberate rhythm that leaves no room for anything but the two of you, a slow and deliberate mingling of desire and desperation, each motion a silent plea that neither of you will ever let go. you feel his pulse beneath your fingertips, wild and unsteady, beating in time with the pounding of your own heart—a symphony of obsession that neither of you could ever hope to silence.

“s— ‘toru,” you whimper in his lips, leaving his breath hitches, and you feel the tremor of it against your skin, a shiver that ripples through the both of you, binding you even tighter together. his eyes, glistening and fervent, drink you in as if you are the only thing that can quench his unending thirst. and your own gaze, locked onto his, speaks volumes of the quiet, relentless obsession that ties your souls in knots too intricate to ever untangle.

every sigh, every gasp is a testament to the fervent reunion of souls that cannot be torn asunder, no matter how the world may try. your cheeks are flushed, mirroring the heat in his own, and there’s a delirious pleasure in knowing that he is yours again, has always been yours, will always be yours. in this moment, tangled and breathless, you both become a living prayer, a hymn to the unbreakable, unyielding force of a love that borders on madness.

his hands, desperate and sure, press into the small of your back, fingers splayed as though marking you, branding you as his own. and in the low, heady hum of your shared breaths, the world outside ceases to exist. here, there is only the two of you—obsessed, entwined, and utterly consumed by the fire that refuses to burn out. you are his sanctuary, his obsession, and as he holds you close, he knows with a fierce, undeniable certainty that he is yours in every possible way, now and always.

your fingers thread through his silver locks, tugging them with a possessive fervor that draws a breathless whine from his lips, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. you lean closer, your breath mingling with his, and capture his mouth in a searing kiss once again, tongues tangling in a desperate dance of need and familiarity. the taste of him is intoxicating, like the first sip of a forbidden wine, and you drink him in as though he were the very air you need to survive.

your other hand traces down, fingers curling into the tender flesh of his thigh, nails digging crescents into his skin with a fervor that borders on reverence and possession. each mark you leave is a silent declaration—he is yours to hold, yours to break, yours to ruin, yours to love in this raw, unfettered way. his breath stutters— his body responding to the sting of your touch, every nerve alight with the electric thrill of your shared desire, a sharp intake that lingers in the air, mingling with the rhythm of your heartbeats that drum like a battle cry in the quiet room. his eyes, a storm of love and desperation, gaze up at you as if you are the moon and the sun, his salvation and his undoing. his arms tighten around your waist, holding you as if you are the center of his universe, the axis upon which his world spins.

you rock your hips slowly, a deliberate and torturous rhythm that pulls soft gasps from his parted lips, each sound a sweet symphony that fills the space between your bodies— a slow, deliberate rocking that pulls soft moans from the both of you, the sound mingling like a hymn of devotion sung only for the night to hear. his eyes, half-lidded and burning with a mix of love and lust, meet yours, and in that gaze, you see the depths of his devotion laid bare. he is yours—utterly, entirely, irrevocably—and there is a heady power in knowing that he would lay the world at your feet if you only asked.

his hands grip your waist, fingers pressing into your skin with the intensity of a man holding on to his last breath, as if releasing you would be akin to the world losing its light. the way his body arches into yours, meeting each movement with a silent vow, speaks of a love that teeters on the edge of madness—a need so profound it eclipses reason.

“i love you,” you whisper against his lips, the words a soft, fervent prayer, slipping free like a sacred vow, a quiet affirmation of the bond that binds you both, unbreakable and infinite. his breath shudders as he pulls you even closer, his response a muffled moan as your movements grow more insistent, the heat between you building like a slow-burning flame that refuses to be quenched.

his eyes flutter shut at your confession, as if savoring the weight of it, letting it sink into his bones. he trembles beneath your touch, his body singing with the quiet, desperate need for more—more of your touch, your love, your presence that he clings to like a drowning man reaching for the surface. every breath you share feels like a stolen promise, each kiss a sacred bond that reaffirms the feverish connection that neither of you can ever escape.

your hands, one still tangled in his hair, the other gripping his thigh, hold him to you as if to anchor him in place, to remind him that this, here and now, is all that matters. his lips curve into a breathless smile against yours, his body arching into every touch, every caress, his own whispered confessions of love mingling with the soft, reverent sounds of your shared longing.

in this moment, every touch, every kiss, every whispered word is a testament to the fierce, unrelenting need that pulls you back to him time and time again. you are tangled in each other’s orbit, bound by an obsession that runs deeper than blood, stronger than any force that might try to tear you apart. and as you lose yourselves in the slow, deliberate rhythm of your of your bodies.

and as his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, you realize that this—this wild, chaotic, all-consuming love—is the very marrow of your existence. in his embrace, you find the echoes of every past longing, every unspoken promise, and the undeniable truth that he is yours, irrevocably and eternally. and as you move together, lost in the poetry of each other’s touch, you know that no force in this world or the next could be sever the bond that holds you— two souls bound by the beautiful relentless obsession of love.

as you move slowly on his lap, the friction and intensity make gojo’s breath hitch. a guttural, involuntary grunt escapes him, the sound a raw, visceral expression of the pleasure and need surging through him. his grip tightens around your waist, each movement of yours driving him further into a state of blissful surrender.

his eyes, clouded with a potent mix of passion and adoration, lock onto yours. “fuck,” he groans, the word slipping from his lips in a low, reverent murmur. the sound is both a plea and a confession, his body trembling with the weight of his overwhelming emotions.

he stutters, his voice faltering as he tries to articulate the depth of his feelings amidst the relentless pleasure. “i… i love you too,” he finally breathes out, the words trembling on his lips, laden with both desperation and devotion. his gaze is unwavering, filled with an intense, unspoken promise. “you are everything to me… every touch, every whisper… it’s all I’ve ever wanted, all I’ll ever need.”

his breath comes in ragged bursts, each one a testament to the consuming nature of his love and desire. he pulls you closer, his entire being attuned to the rhythm of your movements, the declaration of his love etched into every shudder, every gasp, as he loses himself in the exquisite intensity of the moment.

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