#Or English mistakes

[blitzwhore]

New Year's Kiss

“I've been meaning to apologize,” Stolas’ low voice broke the comfortable silence between them. 

Blitzø glanced up at him, and found the owl's gaze lost somewhere past the busy streets of Imp City.

It was twenty minutes—give or take a few—before midnight on New Year's Eve, and the streets were bustling with people coming and going, fireworks already booming on the horizon. Loona had long since left for a party with her friends. As far as Blitzø was aware, M&M were on a well deserved romantic, candle-lit date. 

Any other year, midnight would've found Blitzø balls deep into a faceless stranger, or perhaps elbow-deep into a tub of Bee&Jerry's as he binge-watched his comfort shows until he passed out from exhaustion. One way or another, he would've been trying his damndest to push away memories of his past—to drown out thoughts of all the people he wouldn't get to spend the night with. 

Tonight, it seemed like midnight was about to find him sharing yet another cig with Stolas on his balcony. 

The mere thought filled his chest with a bubbling kind of happiness, made him giddy enough that he felt the impulse to lean closer to Stolas, rest his head on the bump of Stolas’ hip. 

He resisted the urge, though, and instead replied to Stolas with a low, “What for?” 

Stolas breathed out a cloud of smoke and glanced momentarily down at Blitzø.

“For my behavior in the last few weeks,” he said, rolling the cig between his fingers. “I have been… a mess, frankly. There's really no other way to put it.” 

“Stols, you had reasons to be that way,” Blitzø said, resting a comforting hand on Stolas’ waist. Even through Stolas’ loose jumper, he could feel warmth emanating from the soft feathers hidden underneath. He thumbed at the dip just below his hip, and didn't miss the small shiver that ran down Stolas’ body. “You lost so much, so quickly. And you were off your meds. Anyone would be a mess, honestly.” 

Stolas sighed, and, though he didn't look down at Blitzø again, he did lean slightly into his touch—just enough for Blitzø's hand to shift until it was cupping his lower back. 

“I still feel like you deserve an apology, though,” Stolas murmured. “I can't have been easy to deal with.” 

Blitzø snorted slightly. “‘Bout as easy as it is to handle me on a normal day, to be honest.” 

At that, Stolas’ lips quirked slightly upwards, the sight making Blitzø's heart soar higher than he cared to admit. 

“Anyway,” Blitzø added, “I'm glad the meds have been helping.” He accepted the cigarette when Stolas passed it and took a drag of it. When he gave it back, he stayed purposefully closer—close enough that he could feel Stolas’ warmth radiating off of him, that his lungs filled with Stolas’ scent with every slow breath. “It's just… it's nice to have you back, Stols.” 

A low exhale. With it, Stolas inched ever so slightly closer to Blitzø, until Blitzø's head was almost brushing against his waist. 

“It's nice to be back,” Stolas admitted in a low voice. 

Closing his eyes for a moment, Blitzø nuzzled Stolas’ waist and rested his temple there, just breathing the owl in, just taking a break from it all. 

Even through the sounds of cheering and screaming and fireworks in the distance, he felt so at peace. More at peace than he remembered ever feeling during a New Year Eve. 

Not since the fire, anyway. 

When he opened his eyes and checked his phone, it was exactly nine minutes to midnight.

Though he didn't mind the silence between them, he couldn't help but break it to ask a low, curious, “Any New Year's resolutions?” 

“Hmm?” Stolas asked. “Resolutions?” 

Blitzø glanced up at him without moving away from his waist. “Yeah. Don't you have those either?” 

“I'm afraid not.” Stolas tossed the cig onto the street below, but made no move to pull away from Blitzø, either. 

“Damn,” Blitzø murmured. “So you don't… have any New Year's Eve traditions?” 

Stolas didn't immediately reply, fiddling slightly with his fingers as his body tensed a bit. 

“The Goetia at large do,” he said, voice low. “Mostly, they use it as one more excuse to throw loud, ostensive parties. Most of them in our ballroom, courtesy of my ex-wife.” At this he paused again, grinding his beak slightly, as thought the sole memory made him uneasy. “I kept to myself when I could help it, though,” he said. And then, in a lower voice still, “Tried to drink enough that I'd remember as little of them as possible.” 

“Oh.” Blitzø gulped. He was uncomfortably familiar with what that felt like, and he knew full well what paths that sort of urge to drink your sorrows away could lead down. 

He'd recently started to suspect Stolas was no stranger to it, either. He guessed this tiny admission from Stolas confirmed it, at least to some extent. 

Blitzø would've much preferred for his suspicions to be wrong. 

“How about you?” Stolas asked then. “Any other New Year's Eve traditions, other than setting resolutions?” 

“Oh yeah, there's a bunch,” Blitzø said, and Stolas glanced down at him, eyebrow quirked in interest. “Obviously there's the fireworks.” 

“Obviously,” Stolas smirked, another round of loud bangs going off in the distance. 

“There's a bunch'a songs we sing, too,” Blitzø added. “Specific meals, too, in some rings. And…” 

And here he paused, gulping. A quick glance at his watch told him it was four minutes to midnight, and suddenly his heart was threatening to burst out of his chest. 

He'd been thinking about it, of course he had. Ever since Stolas had kissed him on Sinsmas, it'd been practically all he could think of. 

Still, maybe it was too soon; too quickly after the whole Octavia situation. Maybe it was just better not to bring it up at all. Maybe—

“And?” Stolas prompted, curiosity in his voice as he watched Blitzø expectantly. 

“O-Oh, it's nothing important,” Blitzø quickly said. “Just—sometimes, when you're, y'know, spending the evening with the people you love…” Three minutes. Fuck. “There's this tradition to share a kiss. At midnight. On the cheek, if it's like your friend or whatever, or, you know…” 

Blitzø couldn't keep going—not when Stolas was looking at him like that. Cheeks all flushed, and eyes so big, those ever-present pupils boring a hole into him as they blinked in slow understanding. 

“Oh,” Stolas breathed with a low hoot. 

Two minutes. 

“That sounds…” Stolas started, seemingly at a loss for words. “Is that something you'd want to—” 

“I'm not saying it because we have to—” 

They both paused, having talked over each other, and now Blitzø could clearly feel the same heat that was tinting Stolas’ cheeks burning across his own. 

Despite his galloping heart, Blitzø couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips. Would the two of them ever stop being hopelessly stupid around each other?

He reached up to take one of Stolas’ hands on his own, loving how familiar it felt, how easy it came to him to just run his thumb across Stolas’ knuckles and thread their fingers together.

“We don't have to,” he said again, voice low, eyes carefully searching Stolas’. “Just getting to start the new year by your side is more than enough.” 

“But you… want to?” Stolas murmured, almost breathless, like he barely dared to ask. 

Blitzø smiled—fondly, sheepishly—and tugged gently at Stolas’ hand. 

“I always want to kiss you,” he softly admitted. 

Stolas’ whole body was turned towards him now. Another tug at his hand, and Stolas was on his knees, face at Blitzø's level, eyes searching Blitzø's face as a smile spread slowly across his lips. 

“If…” Blitzø breathed. “If you want?” 

His question was drowned by a blast of fireworks and people's cheers and laughter in the streets. 

But Stolas’ gaze was already on his lips, his hand cupping Blitzø's cheek as he closed the distance between them and pressed their lips together softly. 

Tracing Stolas’ cheek with his own palm, Blitzø stepped closer and deepened the kiss, humming low in his throat as Stolas’ familiar, warm taste flooded his senses. 

Outside, the world celebrated and sparkled and shone. But Blitzø's world was reduced to this. To Stolas’ fingers threading through his back spines to keep him close—to Stolas’ low, contented moan when their tongues pressed together and fell into a well-known dance. To Stolas’ scent, Stolas’ touch, those slender hands roaming down to his waist and circling his lower back to press Blitzø closer to himself. 

It felt like several minutes went by before they managed to part from one another, and still they stayed close as they caught their breaths. 

When Blitzø opened his eyes, Stolas was smiling. 

He looked happy. Happier than he'd looked since the trial, and just—more present. Like the depression fog was finally starting to lift, leaving behind a man that was still riddled with grief, still struggling to find his place, but—ready to find some happiness despite it all. Ready to be here, in Blitzø's arms, and allow himself this moment of comfort and hope. 

Blitzø couldn't help it. He pressed his forehead against Stolas', his love for the bird too overwhelming to put into words. 

Stolas held him there, a smile still present in his voice when he asked a low, “Any New Year's resolutions, then, darling?” 

Smiling, Blitzø hummed in response, running his fingertips through the soft, long feathers at the back of Stolas’ head. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, his mind a whirlwind of just Stolas, Stolas, Stolas. “To have more of this with you.” 

On AO3

[pouletpourri]

"You just have to look closely."

[kai-7kh]

Made an oc maker challenge for rw community! Inspired by @shimmeringembers & @thenalanita-art ♡

Have fun!

[thisnoah]

"You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate"

[Too Sweet by Hozier]

[qerieq]

F1 10s drivers college AU

[typingbunny]

I‘m obsessed with this

Him pressing her to the ground

His body covering her entire body bc he's so tall and broad, the feeling of his weight on her

The handholding that functions as pinning her down

His red ears (might be from the cold though)

The hand on her cheeks + kinda holding her chin just bc he can since his hands are so big

This is only a guess but convince me that he's not parting her legs with his resting one leg dangerously close to the warmth he "needs"

On that note: the ice melting during the kiss

His outfit is not only pretty but I bet fun to take off as well-

Warning: this is just smut, pure filth.

If you’re not 18+ this is your cue to leave 🚪

Zayne is the type of boyfriend that makes you ride him while looking into his eyes until you can’t hold yourself up anymore because it’s so intense and he’s reaching so deep.

He loves this view. He may be under you but don’t let it fool you to think you’re in charge. If he wanted to he could just fuck into you from this angle by slightly working his hips towards you and make you see stars. However at this point, how hazy you are already that would be just cruel … wouldn’t it?

This angle allows him a prime view to just watch you as you chase your high by using him as not more than a means to get that release you’re craving.

He’s obsessed with you. He tries to hide how much he really adores you because he doesn’t want to scare you away with how much he actually wants you, needs you, but he is sure you can feel his heart pounding beneath your hands as you straddle him regardless of his attempts to mask it. The heart cannot lie.

He reaches up and cups your perky breasts in his big, surprisingly warm, hands. They are so warm they feel like fire on your skin so much it feels like they are trying to burn themselves onto Zayne’s favourite part of your body. After idly caressing your breasts, Zayne changes up the soothing manner and opts for increasing the roughness of his touch as he alternates between massaging them gently to squeezing them harshly from time to time, a feeling that goes straight to your core.

The look on your face, that cock-drunk expression: mouth slightly agape, eyes struggling to stay focused threatening to roll back and you tearing up because of how good he is making you feel. Zayne has jerked off to your face more times than he wants to admit.

He gently cups your face causing you to ground yourself a little and make eye contact with him. His thumb strokes over your cheek in an adoring manner until it travels down to your lips. They are pink and swollen and for a second he thinks about sinking his cock between them, but not now. Now he wants you to cum for him while he is buried deep inside of you. Deeper than any other man ever was nor would for that matter because that is out of question. No matter the circumstances or consequences, Zayne would hunt down whoever tried to replace him. He could easily make it look like an accident. Sometimes his love for you scares him but that’s a price he is willing to pay.

“Open.“

He doesn’t have to elaborate, you know exactly what he wants as you start sucking on his fingers like a shameless whore. His whore. Only his. Forever. The little velvet box bearing an engagement ring, that has been resting in his part of the closet for a while being a token for that.

“Good girl.“

He takes his wet fingers out of your mouth and swirls them around your nipple and a tiny moan erupts from you. Zayne chuckles and you send him a playful glare. That glare doesn’t hold up long though because drinking in how sinful your boyfriend looks under you, you’re quickly occupied with trying not to cum but rather ingrain that image into your memory so you’ll remember it for the rest of your life.

Black hair pushed back, slightly tousled; most likely a result of your doings earlier when his face was buried between your thighs. His cheeks and ears are red, a telltale sign that he is either embarrassed or aroused. Right now it’s the latter. His forehead is covered in beats of sweat and his eyes are filled with something that can be only described as pure lust.

You’re brought back to planet earth by a cold pinch of your sensitive nipples and another moan escapes you. That crazy motherfucker used his EVOL and it felt good. Make lemonade out of lemons or whatever they say.

This was the last straw to your somewhat composure. Now you are clutching onto his shoulders to hold yourself up as Zayne continues his assault on your nipples.

“Zayne-”

Hearing you moan his name always does it for him. He can feel something in him snap, most likely his self control and his blood practically starts to boil.

“Come here.”

And then, with a swift motion he just scoops you up into his arms pressing your chest against his as he rocks you up and down the whole length of cock like his personal fleshlight. If you weren’t moaning and screaming you’d be in awe of how strong he is as he rocks you up and down hitting deeper than you thought was ever possible, muscles flexing beneath his perfect skin. In an attempt to get even closer to him you bury your face into his neck and let yourself be consumed by Zayne’s smell, that certain smell you call home. God the things you’d do for this man.

Clutching your thighs, his fingertips leave little marks that knowing Zayne, he will profusely apologize for tomorrow. Meanwhile you’re holding onto his shoulders for dear life carelessly leaving little crescent moons on his back.

He once pointed out, how much he actually enjoys you “leaving a mark on him”. First you thought it was a typical Zayne move trying to comfort you so you don’t feel bad about hurting him. But one day when you where looking for pictures on his phone for a little gift you were preparing, a photoalbum for your anniversary, you found an interesting picture.

It was Zayne in front of your bedroom mirror trying to photograph said marks on his back. You contemplated to tease him with the evidence but the mental imagine of big mean Zayne (that’s at least what others who didn’t know him thought of him to be) standing in front of your bedroom mirror trying to get the perfect picture was too adorable. What you don’t know is that once he got it, he just stood there in the middle of the room looking at the picture, 6’1 of lovey-dovey mush with a loopy grin on his face.

So right now you are basically clawing at his back amping up the scratches the more he moans and curses under his breath.

Once he can’t take it anymore and the only thing on his mind is breeding you as he cums over and over again deep inside of you filling you up until you beg him to stop, he embraces you tightly and flips both of you so he is on top. Your legs are wrapped around his waist and he feels your wetness all over him. Immediately his hands find yours, interlacing your fingers. What looks like romantically holding hands is his gateway to restrain you, holding them tightly pinned over your head so your tits are completely exposed.

His lips find one sensitive nub and he starts devouring you while looking up at you through his lashes, and you swear if he keeps that up you’re going to reach your high from this alone.

“Zayne please-

M-Move!”

He detaches from his favourite toy, his personal little make her dumb button so to speak, to look at you, a twinkle in his eye. For a second he imagines what it would be like to make you suffer a little bit and make you beg for it. Because he knows you would beg for him. Just like you have many times.

You’re so fucked out and desperate for him it turns him on so much it almost hurts and though he swears couldn’t possibly be any harder he feels another wave of desire wash over him, threatening to drown him. Not only does he accept his fate, the thought weirdly enough makes him beyond happy and he struggles to hide the smirk creeping up on the corner of his by now swollen lips as he goes in for a kiss and you can’t help but surrender yourself to.

“ Whatever you want my love.”

He leans down whispering in your ear, voice laced with desire, and something slightly … sadistic?

“Just remember, you asked for it.”

From that point on, only the gods above can help you and the bed frame …

I don’t know why but I picture Zayne to be less of a butt guy and rather a boobie guy maybe because of cardio lmao … 💭

[iconbyunghun]

Drive Me Home

Pairing: Hwang In-ho x Fem!Reader

Summary: A simple ride home takes an unexpected turn when tension and desire get the best of you, especially when the man driving is your best friend's father.

Warnings: Smut 18+, MDNI, age gap (early 20s/50s), car sex, unsafe sex, creampie, slight degrading.

Word count: 3.1 k

a/n: I don’t know where all these words came from; this was supposed to be short. uh, I hope you enjoy it!

The gentle breeze coming through the car window tousled a few strands of your hair. With a mischievous smile on your lips, you glanced sideways at the man who had just settled into the driver’s seat.

Hwang In-ho, your best friend’s father, was the one responsible for driving you home after the party you and his daughter had organized with some university friends. You were a little tipsy, and your friend had suggested that her father take you home in his car. Despite your attempts to convince her that you could just call a taxi, her concern made you give in.

It wasn’t the first time he had driven you home, so he already knew your address. Of course, on previous occasions, his daughter had always been present.

He couldn’t help but regret agreeing to let them throw a party at his house—by morning, he’d have to clean everything up and take inventory of all the broken glasses and other damaged things. He sighed, resigned. That would be a problem for later. Right now, his main concern was you, alternating between watching the road and stealing glances at him—furtive, yet not at all discreet.

“Won’t your parents say anything about you coming home at this hour… and drunk?” he asked, trying to break the ice.

“My parents are traveling, and I’m not drunk,” you replied, pretending to be offended, though the slight slur in your words made him chuckle.

“Riiight, not drunk at all,” he teased, playfully mimicking your tone. You couldn’t help but laugh. His charisma was your weakness—that, and the fact that he looked amazing for a man in his fifties.

“Hm, if your parents aren’t home, you could’ve stayed over,” he added.

“Yeah, I could have, but I didn’t want to impose,” you half-lied. “Besides, I also didn’t want to be stuck cleaning up the post-party mess on a Sunday morning.” You shrugged.

“Of course, let the old man do all the cleaning,” he said, feigning irritation.

“Old?” You looked at him, this time more intently. His hair was slightly tousled, and the sleeves of his light blue shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his forearms, where veins ran down to his large, masculine hands, firmly gripping the steering wheel. For a brief moment, you imagined what it would feel like to have them on your body.

He glanced at you for just a couple of seconds. The city lights reflected on your face—not too bright, but enough to highlight the sparkle in your eyes as you observed him with a mix of curiosity and admiration. He wondered if it was the alcohol that had you looking at him like that.

“I guess I am a little old,” he murmured, his tone carrying a hint of resignation.

He turned his attention back to the road, hoping you’d do the same and stop scrutinizing him. But this time, you didn’t follow his lead. Instead, you shifted in your seat, curling your legs up and hugging your knees against your chest. The movement caused the hem of your dress to slide up past your knees, so you pressed your legs together, trying not to reveal too much… at least not yet.

From your new position, your entire focus was on him—concentrated on driving, oblivious (or perhaps not so much) to the way you were watching him.

“Well, you look better than any guy I know,” you blurted out without a filter, uninhibited—whether by the alcohol, the night… or by him.

He let out a low chuckle, though he seemed slightly uncomfortable as he stopped at a red light. Your comment had caught him off guard.

“Thanks for the compliment.”

“That wasn’t a compliment. That was the truth,” you said with a playful smile. “Guys my age are all idiots.”

“I suppose you have plenty of those idiots chasing after you,” he said, turning to gauge your reaction.

“There’s always a few,” you paused, debating whether to say what was on your mind. “But… I prefer older men.”

Your eyes locked onto his just as you bit your lower lip slightly, under his intense gaze—a gesture both casual and deliberate.

In-ho smiled, the slight curve of his lips confirming that he knew exactly where you were going with this. Of course, he wasn’t a naive man. At his age, he could easily recognize blatant flirting, and you were making it painfully obvious.

There had been too many signs he had been trying to ignore—those short dresses that always seemed purposely chosen whenever you visited, the kisses that landed dangerously close to his lips when you greeted him, the hugs that lasted a little too long, your chest pressing against his. The way you always found an excuse to brush against him, with a sweetness that pretended to be innocent… but neither of you truly believed that.

He had always tried to keep his composure, to act with the restraint expected of someone his age. After all, you were just a reckless young girl with raging hormones. And he, despite having been divorced for over two years, had neither the time nor the patience to date again—especially not someone so young.

At least, that was what he had always told himself. But this time, the situation felt different. There was something about the contrast between the rosy tint on your cheeks and your slightly tousled hair, the way you looked at him with that almost pleading gaze. You were completely alone, and the darkness of the night made everything feel more intimate.

His eyes traced down your exposed legs to your crimson heels. Under any other circumstances, he would have scolded you for dirtying his car seat. But not now… not when you were so dangerously close that it would only take him a few seconds to slide his hands over your thighs and take you as he pleased. Oh, just the thought sent an electric pulse straight to his cock.

“You’re a bold little thing, you know that?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as his gaze returned to your face. Something in his expression had changed.

“Hmm, well, you don’t seem to mind. Or do you?” you shot back almost instantly, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh no, it doesn’t, sweetheart."

The way he said that pet name sent a flutter through your stomach. You briefly glanced at the traffic light, which had already turned green, but he didn’t seem in any hurry to move. Not that it mattered—at this hour, the street was completely deserted.

Before you could react or come up with a witty response, he acted first. With unsettling ease—or maybe simply because you didn’t resist—he took your right hand and, with a gentle tug, pulled you toward him. The sudden closeness made you lower your legs back onto the car floor, seeking stability. His face was now dangerously close to yours.

Before you could process it, he guided your hand with determination straight to his crotch.

"Do you want to see just how much I like that little tease of yours?" he added in a deep voice.

A sharp breath escaped your lips as you felt how hard he was and how his much larger hand pressed over yours, keeping it firmly against his arousal.

Shit. If this was some kind of alcohol-induced dream, you hoped you’d never wake up.

The look of surprise on your face only seemed to amuse him more. His gaze dropped to your lips, and without a second more of hesitation, he closed the distance between you. His hands slid up to your face, ensuring you followed his pace. Within seconds, his tongue parted your lips, exploring your mouth with restrained hunger.

A shiver ran down your spine as you searched for something to hold onto, something to steady yourself. With your free hand, you tangled your fingers into his hair, tugging gently at a few strands.

His reaction was immediate—a soft gasp, barely a whisper against your lips, his body shuddering under your touch—clumsy, yet eager—both in his hair and over his straining length.

When the need for air became unbearable, you broke apart.

The sight of your tousled hair, your heavy breathing, and your swollen, glistening lips—slick with both your saliva and his—completely shattered the last threads of his self-restraint.

"Come here," he demanded.

Adjusting his position, he unbuckled his seatbelt and reclined his seat back, making enough room for you to kneel between his legs.

You settled yourself as best you could, your face just inches away from his erection, still concealed beneath his pants but under the weight of his intense gaze.

"This is what you wanted so badly, isn’t it?" he murmured. "To be on your knees, ready to suck my fucking cock?"

The sheer filth of his words only made the fire inside you burn hotter.

You nodded clumsily, placing your hands on his thighs.

"Good. If you’re going to act like a little slut, you’d better take responsibility for it."

Without waiting for an answer, his hands went straight to his belt, swiftly undoing it. Your hands moved on instinct, reaching for the button of his jeans. He let you take over, pulling his hands back as you continued.

Once unbuttoned, you slowly unzipped his jeans, dragging it out in a torturous way—for him, at least. He helped by lifting his hips slightly, and soon, his jeans were pooled around his ankles.

In front of you, his hard length strained against the fabric of his gray boxers, a small damp spot visible where the tip pressed against the material. You hadn't been wrong to fantasize about its impressive size. Eager for more, you ran your tongue over it through the fabric before hooking your fingers into the waistband, carefully freeing him.

He smirked at the expression of raw desire on your face, a flicker of pride mixing with arousal. The thought of someone so much younger, eager to take him in her mouth, sent a spark of heat through him.

Wrapping your fingers around his length, you stroked him slowly, feeling his heat and velvety texture. Finally, your lips parted, and as you took him into your mouth, a shudder ran through you. The salty taste of his skin flooded your senses, making your core tighten with anticipation. You took him as deep as your throat allowed, swirling your tongue around him and sucking gently as you pulled back. Your eyes fluttered shut as you focused on the sensation—his heavy breathing, the way his fingers slid into your hair, guiding your movements.

"Look at me," he ordered, his voice rough with need. His grip tightened as he tugged your hair, pulling you back just enough to leave only the tip resting on your tongue. Your tear-brimmed eyes met his, a sinful mix of pleasure and submission. The sight alone nearly undid him.

The car's interior felt suffocating, thick with heat and tension. Fogged windows bore witness to the electricity crackling between you.

With a firm pull, he shifted you onto his lap, your knees bracketing his thighs. The moment you settled, his mouth claimed yours again, devouring you with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine. His tongue moved with purpose, teasing, demanding, leaving you breathless beneath him.

His hands wasted no time finding the hem of your dress, sliding it upward, exposing more of your heated skin beneath his eager touch. He pulled you closer, his grip possessive, his fingertips digging into your flesh—enough to ensure you'd still feel him tomorrow.

His lips broke from yours, trailing lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck. His teeth grazed your skin before his lips soothed the sting, marking you in ways you knew would linger long after this night.

"I-I need you…" you whimpered, feeling the firm press of his arousal against the softness of your inner thighs.

A shaky breath left him before his hands found the waistband of your panties. He toyed with the delicate fabric, stretching it, teasing you with just enough friction to make you squirm. A wicked grin tugged at his lips before he gave a sharp tug, tearing the fabric effortlessly, discarding it without a second thought.

Gripping himself, he lined his aching length up with your entrance. His gaze lifted to yours, drinking in the sight of your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, and the way your eyes silently pleaded for more.

"Be a good girl and ask me nicely," he demanded, savoring your anticipation as he teased your entrance, using your own arousal to lubricate himself.

"Fuck me... please," you begged, moving impatiently in search of more friction.

With a satisfied smile, he aligned himself before slowly pushing in to the hilt, a deep, guttural moan escaping his throat. His large hands gripped your hips, kneading your flesh.

"I-In-ho... fuck, it's... so big," you squealed, closing your eyes and throwing your head back, lost in the sensation of his length stretching you. "It feels so good."

He remained still for a few seconds, savoring the way you clenched around him, the warm wetness enveloping him so perfectly that, in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in you over and over again.

When he finally began to move, he did so with slow, deep thrusts, letting your body take him in completely. Your slickness made everything easier, making him crave more of your tight pussy. His pace quickened—deeper, harder, more of your breathless moans filling the air.

Ragged groans escaped his throat as he pressed his head against the backrest of the seat. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd had sex, and the sensation of your walls gripping him, your nails digging into his skin, and the desperate, needy whimpers spilling from your lips right next to his ear had him on the verge of madness.

At that moment, nothing else existed—just the two of you, the tension, the relentless collision of your bodies, the frantic heartbeat that kept you both trapped in the moment.

And when everything finally reached its peak, your lips found each other in desperation. Your orgasm hit first, overwhelming, your hips moving on their own as you ground down on him, desperate for more. The way your pussy clenched and pulsed around him sent him over the edge. He gripped your hips tightly, his movements becoming erratic, and with one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, spilling his release as your walls throbbed around him, milking every last drop.

You collapsed against his chest, pressing your head over his racing heartbeat, both of you still struggling to catch your breath.

A few seconds passed before you felt his arms wrap around you.

“Fuck,” he exhaled in a breathy sigh. The haze of lust slowly began to lift from his mind, and reality started to set in. “My daughter can’t find out about this,” he muttered. His voice was still heavy with exhaustion, lacking the sharpness to sound truly serious.

You slowly opened your eyes and pulled back slightly to look at him.

“Don’t be stupid,” you scoffed, giving his chest a playful slap. How could that be the first thing on his mind after the way he just fucked you? “Of course she won’t find out.” You rolled your eyes, and he fell silent.

The air inside the car was still thick, heavy with the scent of sex, a lingering reminder of what had just transpired. Your breathing had steadied, but the heat between you had yet to fully dissipate.

You felt him softening inside you and shifted just enough for him to adjust his boxers and pants. You smoothed out your dress with deliberate slowness, running your hands over the fabric in a way that was almost teasing. In-ho averted his gaze, turning toward the window as he fastened his belt, but his attempt at indifference failed—his eyes betrayed him, flickering back to your chest before he could stop himself.

“You owe me a new pair of panties,” you remarked with a mischievous smile, rocking your hips slightly on his lap.

He let out a heavy breath, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to regain his composure.

“You’re trouble,” he murmured, his dark eyes tracing your face. You were absolutely stunning.

“Didn’t seem to bother you a few minutes ago.”

His jaw tightened, as if holding back the words he really wanted to say.

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before slipping back into the passenger seat. He wasn’t sure whether to take it as an affectionate gesture or as pure mockery.

The rest of the drive was quiet—but not in an uncomfortable way. The tension still lingered in the air. When he finally parked in front of your house, you made no immediate move to leave. Instead, he was the first to open his door.

“You don’t have to walk me to the entrance.”

“I know,” he replied, stepping out and circling the car.

He opened the door for you—a gentlemanly gesture that starkly contrasted how he had handled you just minutes ago. As you stood, you felt his eyes briefly rake over your figure. It was involuntary, but you noticed. And you loved it.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, leaning casually against your front door with a playful smile.

“Thanks for…” In-ho paused, seeming to reconsider his words. “…Nothing. I’m not saying anything else.”

You laughed softly, tapping a finger against your lips in mock contemplation.

“You know, you could come in for a bit,” you suggested casually, pretending to search for your keys in your bag. “It’s late. We could have a drink.”

He looked at you with a mix of disbelief and warning, as if you were temptation itself standing before him.

“I think you’ve had enough,” he said, his voice low.

You stepped closer, closing the space between you.

“I think I can handle a little more,” you whispered, resting your hands against his chest, tilting your head slightly.

Silence stretched between you until In-ho let out a sigh—part surrender, part anticipation.

“Do you have whiskey?”

You bit your lip, holding back a victorious smile as you turned to unlock the door.

“You’ll have to come inside to find out.”

In-ho followed, a nearly imperceptible smile playing at his lips. This time, there was no hesitation. No second-guessing. That would come tomorrow, when the weight of the night could no longer hide the guilt of his actions.

[kirdoodl]

A little Relativity Falls comic, yippie! :3

also here have some extra doodles as to what happened after they actually got there

[miidsch]

trying to get back into pixel art with some strawberry themed desserts 💖

[stupidsonicfan69]

Beloved rivals "enjoying" a drink. Trying out some stuff without lineart and focusing more on color (as you can tell, I need more practice.....which means more fanart).

[lululocomo]

First part of a small comic I'm making for my au! (click on the images for better quality) next

Au masterpost context: When MK lift the staff, Wukong was finally free. He was surprise to see a human who can lift his staff, and since he was tired of being alone, he decided to take MK as his sucessor. So they got on their way to FFM to train, where they will see an old acquaintance of the Monkey King.

Btw it's my first time making a comic! it's very small since it's focus on a single scene, but I will make others!

(I may not make all comics in colors it take a lot of time)

[honehonn3honey]

🍜 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤_𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙤

❤️ 450.2k 🗨️ 130.1k 🔄 130k

𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗼_𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗼 It’s my favorite girl’s birthday‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎1 hour ago

🐰𝗱𝗲𝗸𝘂 Happy birthday Andie! 589 replies

📦 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗼_𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗶 Looks very healthy and happy, I imagine the wonderful environment that surrounds it. 1567 replies

🥬 𝗶𝗱𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗹.... God bless shouto todoroki... If I just lower the camera a little bit more....

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎¬‎ 💥 𝗱𝘆𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 Get lost

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎¬ 🥬 𝗶𝗱𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗹 Just a little bit ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎further down... 1435 replies

🩻 𝗵𝗵_𝗵𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗲𝘆 Awesome, you buy her little glasses

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎¬‎ 🍜 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗼_𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗼 No, she got them on ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎her own 20 replies

🤖 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗽𝗰 I can’t be jealous for a bird, not today 1290 replies

Happy birthday my dear angel @andypantsx3

I came to wish you a wonderful day with all the people you love. May this year be a year of peace, lots of soups and wine, time to dream and write

I hope you like this little gift. This year I was more prepared! Many kisses! Mwah mwah~

My main idea was that it only looked like a photo but in the end I made it from the full post... So I also leave it here down

January 3: Actually I was very excited about your birthday and this update is just me trying not to tell you that I’m excited about your birthday in your inbox because it would reveal that I have a gift for you. Yes

[ian0key]

TMA AU ( TimSasha Lives) P.1

Desolation!Tim / & / P.2 -> END!SASHA??

( Fancast -> Manny Jacinto) -> FIRST DESING

P.3 -> S3 final

P.4 -> Jon's kidnapping

P.5 -> GERYYY

P.6 -> Eye-apocalypse

So.... I created an au in which Tim and Sasha survived their respective deaths, but with big consequences.

They turnerd into fears avatars.

Tim became part of desolation after the circus explosion.

He ended up in coma for 4 months, bc at first he refused to be one of the monsters who killed his brother.

But he stayed for Sasha.

Unlike Jon, his body suffered many more damage, doctors said he would definitely die from his wounds, but he didn't.

An extra detail that I would like to add, is that after waking up, someone (Anabelle) sends to him a prosthetic mask, which was clearly inspired by the circus.

Tim set it on fire.

I will publish the design and history of Sasha later, (which gives more context to Tim's history)

(Also,many of his wounds are recovering little by little, thanks to his regeneration and surgeries.)

Extra: ->->-> JONATHAN SIMS

[neroushalvaus]

Okay I am going to use the Somerton situation to talk about something that is very important to me. Following the discussion I have seen former Somerton fans being disappointed in themselves and questioning how they can ever trust another video essayist again. I have also seen some people being smug because to them Somerton was obviously unreliable from the start. As a person who also saw the "red flags" in Somerton, I would like to skip the smugness and talk a bit about what the red flags were to me.

Someone else has probably posted something similar and Hbomberguy's & Todd in the Shadows's videos touched a few of these points, but they didn't focus on them or how to spot these things. I think it is a good thing: I think it would have reinforced the idea that Somerton's fans were to blame for being lied to, and these youtubers didn't want to pin any blame on the fans. Also, some of the things I'm going to talk about were not by any means proof of him being unreliable, they were common tropes I personally associate with people who are bullshitting on internet. Think of it as something like spotting terfs: If you consider following a tumblr user and find out they have at some point posted "males will always be a danger to females no matter what they say", it is very possible that they are not a terf. Maybe they were having a bad day and were just wording their post badly – But you should probably search "trans" from their blog before following them, just to be sure.

So, the tropes in James Somerton's content that I consider red flags:

Lack of sources. This one may seem obvious and Hbomb talked about this in his video, but the lack of sources in his videos was outrageous. Video essays are called essays for a reason, they are not supposed to be just a guy talking about whatever comes to his mind, they should be well researched essays. Obviously video essays should contain one's own thoughts and interpretations and those do not need citations. But James Somerton didn't come out of the womb knowing everything about LGBT history, Disney and film theory, if he actually knew something about all this stuff, he should have learnt it from somewhere. There should be sources he could point to. It is very common that even when a video essayist doesn't tell you where they got all their information, they open their video by saying stuff like "when I prepared for this video I read the book Also sprach Zarathustra by Friedrich Nietzsche and this one thrilling blog post about lesbian cruising in 1960s Sweden". From what I've seen, James does not really do this. From watching his videos you could arrive to the conclusion that James Somerton does not read any books, he just knows everything. There are situations where people don't feel the need to add sources, like when the information is considered common knowledge or when the topic relates heavily to the essayist's actual academic field or profession. This is okay and very understandable, but can sometimes be dangerous, since if the video essayist markets himself as a marketing specialist, people are more likely to take his word for stuff that has to do with marketing, even without sources. It is understandable that in many situations an essayist may think "why should I cite a source? I know this thing!", but doing your research well is partly about checking if the information you are certain of is actually true. Also, as Hbomb pointed out, if you can cite a source, your audience can go learn more about the subject. It's not about anyone doubting you know your stuff, it's about learning. That's why well-respected video essayists usually cite their sources very clearly.

Lack of pictures and screenshots. This is about different kinds of sources again, many things on this list are kind of about sources. An example: When James Somerton made a video about JKR, he mentioned something about Rowling at one time saying that trans students in 30-50Feralhogs (or whatever the wizard school is called) could use magic to present as their gender. If this was any other video essayist, you'd expect a tweet to pop up, or something else confirming Rowling ever said this. Nothing pops up, obviously because Rowling didn't say this, but you can't see anything fishy in that because things rarely pop up in Somerton's videos. He doesn't show you court documents when speaking about a court case, he doesn't show you the comments apparently mad at him for implying the gay anime is gay when he is complaining about people being mad at him. There is a reason people show screenshots and tweets in video essays. When a good video essayist says JK Rowling has tweeted that all people who menstruate should be referred to as women, the video essayist shows the tweet so people know they are not making it up. If there were hoards of annoying bitc-- I mean, angry white women whining about gay sex in HuffPost articles or Somerton's youtube comments, he should have no trouble showing you those. Remember that you should not trust someone just because they show you pictures or screenshots. Pictures can be photoshopped, screenshots can be doctored. Many youtubers are aware that you listen to their videos while cleaning or while walking your dog and don't actually see the screen all the time, and some may take advantage of that by saying something like "and here she threatened to kill me" while showing a text message where someone said "die mad about it". A screenshot alone isn't much but you should demand to see the screenshot.

Passive voice. I am once again bitching about this. Somerton repeatedly says things like "it's been said that" or "it was common knowledge that" or "a legend says that" or "according to most interpretations". He doesn't say who says it, making it very hard to fact check and that seems to be his goal in some cases.

Relying heavily on anecdotes. Writing a dense, analytical video about film theory or history can be exhausting and you may want to pepper in little fun facts. However Somerton seemed to rely on these heavily; he can't just talk about how he has totally bought every lie told by The Pink Swastika, he also needs to tell a cute little anecdote about SS men forcing sexual favours out of men. He can't just tell a story about a court case, he needs to add in ridiculous stuff about the jury booing. This is what I mean by not all the things on this list being necessarily proof of someone being unreliable. Many people use anecdotes and little stories in their storytelling, it makes the videos flow better and it's hard to decide which anecdotes are valid and which are not. A source obviously makes an anecdote a bit more believable, but here are some things that instantly make me fact check an anecdote:

It's a bit too convenient, poetic or ironic. Sometimes real life is weirder than fiction but if an anecdote is "perfect" and has an amazing punchline and you could write twelve poems about it, there is a possibility it was invented by pop science books.

It assumes your political enemies are stupid. Dunking on conservatives, MRAs and transphobes is always fun and after you've seen a lot of this kind of content it's easy to believe anything about these people. You must resist the impulse to believe everything that may make your opponents look stupid.

The person telling the anecdote implies it is an example of a larger, systemic problem. You know what's worse than taking a random happenstance from human history or internet and basing an entire political theory on it? The said random happenstance being made up. You should in general be wary of people telling one story and explaining why it's an example of everything that's wrong in the world. We live in a huge world. You can always find a white woman who loves cute gays but hates the idea of Nick Heartstopper and Charlie Heartstopper getting nasty but that doesn't mean it's an indicator of a larger issue.

Simplifying complex issues. We all know that "only the boring gays survived the AIDS crisis, and that's why gays started to only care about marriage equality and military" is a horrible, insensitive thing to say, but you also have to think about it for like two seconds to realize that it can't be correct. It kind of reminds me of the "roe v wade caused the crime drop of 1990s" claim in Freakonomics. It sounds logical and simple, like a basic math calculation. Societal issues rarely are like that, though. You should never believe anyone who tells you about a huge societal shift and says it happened because of one thing and one thing only.

These were some of the things I noticed in Somerton's content that caused me to distrust him. I hope these were helpful to you and feel free to add your own "red flags" if you feel like it!

[ninisdollie]

Sad girl - Sim Jake 𓈒ིུ ❤︎ ˖ ݁

"In which reader is stuck being the side chick of an older, rich man, but she convinces herself that she likes it that way"

content: +18MDNI fem!reader x jake, older man!jake x younger!reader (both over 20, not age specified) kind of angsty, cheating plot, protected sex, dirty talking, oral sex (m recieving) fingering, corruption kink, humiliation, jake is kind of an asshole in this i’m sorry, reader is kinda dumb

i do not intend to normalize cheating with this story! i was just inspired by one of my fav lana del rey songs, entertainment purposes only <3

You stared at your phone, eyes sticked to the screen, your body laying down on your bed. You watched the time, 5:50, just ten more minutes and you could call him.

If someone had told you years ago that you would be involved in an affair with a married man, you would’ve laughed straight to their faces. You always hated those type of girls, who didn’t care about destroying couples by sleeping with taken men, you thought it was the most shameless, heartless thing to do.

Until you met him.

Jake Sim was the man of your dreams. A successful, renowned business man, Ceo of his own company, born into a wealthy family, impeccable physique, always wearing entire suits that fitted his body like a second skin, all costume made by the best designers in the country. He walked with so much confidence, posture always perfect, silver rings from the most expensive jewerly houses decorating his long fingers, and obviously, his wedding ring.

You didn’t know he was married when you first saw him (that gave no one comfort but you, he would always say) but when you found out you were so deeply in love that you didn’t really care, you were okay with having him, just a few hours a week, for yourself, pretending that you were his wife, that he was choosing you, even if that was far from being true.

Your relationship was weird, complicated, stritc rules applied. You would meet once a week, when his wife went to visit her family away from town until the next day, never outside of this schedule. He would always pick you up, but never before 6:00 pm, he was a busy man after all. You had to be always looking pretty, dolled up for him, he hated girls that didn’t take care of themselves, so he would always buy you the best dresses and make up, but obviously, you could only wear them for him, nobody else. You could never, never text him first, you always had to wait for his message, and he demanded you to delete everything after your encounters were over. You could call him when you were ready, but again, never before 6:00 pm, and you must never make him wait for you outside for more than 5 minutes.

Maybe it was a little bit extreme, but you understood, he had a reputation to keep clean, his career would be over if this ever came to light, and you were perfectly fine with any rules if that meant you could keep seeing each other.

Every week you would wait for the day to come, daydreaming about him in class, not being able to focus. He was your everything.

You just wished you were his too.

6:00 pm. You tapped on his contact, the tone ringing in your ear.

One, two, three rings later, he answered.

“Always so on time, my pretty girl” And you smiled widely at the sound of his voice, his beautiful Australian accent sending shivers down your spine, feeling the flush in your cheeks, getting up from your bed.

“I’m ready, Jakey. Will you be here soon?” Your voice always sounded extra cloy and high pitched when you talked to him.

He hummed on the phone, and you bit your lip, your heart pounding on your chest with anticipation.

“On my way, baby, wait for me.”

He hung up, and you jumped accross your room to pack a few more things in your purse, your lip combo, your wallet, and condoms.

You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time, just making sure you were looking perfectly polished. Long hair resting on your waist, natural makeup decorating your delicate features, the white, lacy dress he bought the last time for you covering your body perfectly, you smiled at your reflexion, hoping he would like it, you couldn’t wait for him to shower you in compliments.

After exactly 5 minutes, a honk on your driveway. You walked through the door enthusiastically, running to the car and getting inside real quick, so your mother wouldn't ask many questions. He saw you approaching, his hair perfectly slicked back, his shirt rolled up to his elbows, no ring on his finger, he always took it off when you saw each other. He was the most handsome man you'd ever seen, such a beautiful, perfect face, his lips were thick, red, and he had the cutest smile ever. He always smelled so good, Sauvage Elixir by Dior, that was his signature perfume. You smiled at him, placing a little kiss on his lips.

"Hi Jakey, missed you so much" he smiled back at you as he started the car again, driving along the streets towards your usual hotel.

"How was class today, angel? You doing well? You know i appreciate you keeping up with your studies" and you nodded a few times, fixing the skirt of your dress and looking at the front.

"It was good, nothing much happened, i just couldn't wait to see you" He didn't respond, just humming quietly.

The car drive was short, you didn't talk much because to be honest, you never did. Jake said he preferred to keep feelings out of this affair, you two only meeting to do your thing, so he never asked you that much about your life, your conversations were usually shallow, and to be honest it was mostly you talking as he just nodded and hummed in response. Not because he was annoyed by you, but because he found your business immature, being much older than you and having real life problems. So you didn't talk to him about stupid things like gossip and issues with friends, because at the end, you knew he didn't really care that much.

As to the nature of your relationship, he never really gave you a reason to why he was cheating on his wife with you, you knew it was an arranged marriage, or something like it, but obviously he was lacking something, otherwise he wouldn’t be searching for it in you. He did told you though, that his wife was a complicated woman, terrible temper, and he made emphasis in that she would kill you both if she’d ever found out about your affair.

Other woman in your situation would feel used, humiliated. But for some reason you didn't care about that, it was good enough for you that he preferred you over his wife to satisfy his desires as a man. It made you feel good, powerful.

Silly you.

"Is that the dress i gave you last time? You look so gorgeous, princess". And you smiled widely, blushing, because his compliments meant everything to you.

Feeling your heart flutter again, you watched him pull over in the parking lot, and he got out of the car towards your door and opened it for you, immediately placing a hand around your waist, kissing softly behind your ear and you sighed at his closeness, not wanting him to ever let you go.

He walked you through the hallway, a silence full of complicity between you both, and you rested your head on his shoulder as the elevator went up to the last floor, the private suite waiting for you both. You reached for his hands, and smiled at yourself at the size difference, yours looking so small and delicate in comparision with his manly, veiny, thick hands.

Jake wasn’t very lovey-dovey to you, he just wasn’t like that, he didn’t act like a boyfriend, and you didn’t mind, because you knew loved touching you and noticing little details like those too.

"A drink?" he asked, heading towards the mini bar, once you were inside the room, and you nodded happily, sitting on the corner of the big, king sized bed.

He poured a glass of wine, whisky for him, and stretched his hand, you took the glass and sipped, feeling the hot alcohol burning your throat. Then he loosened his tie, closing his eyes as he cracked his neck, groaning quietly, this made your skin jump, the sound of his voice was enough to affect you.

"Had an awful day at the office today, fired a bunch of useless idiots." He sighed deeply, and you pouted, placing the glass over the nightstand, running your delicate hands through his torso, up to his broad shoulders, squeezing softly, massaging him.

"Sorry to hear that, hope you're not stressing too much" You talked with sweet voice, and he chuckled, grabbing your hand and placing a little kiss on your palm. Then he downed his drink at once.

"You will help me with that." You grinned as he leaned in, hand on your chin, crashing his lips with yours.

The thing with Jake is that he kissed you differently than boys your age. Hungrily, deeply, dirty, messy, as if he was an starved man. Warm, wet tongue exploring your mouth and teeth pulling your lower lip, it made you whimper below his, hot breaths colliding. He always tasted like cigarettes and whisky, his perfume's scent invading the air and going straight through your lungs, you loved it. It was addictive. As he tangled his tongue with yours, head tilted, his big, manly hands ran through your body, firstly caressing the soft, always shaved skin of your thighs, lifting the skirt of the dress you wore only for him, then going straight to your ass, squeezing, groping, and you moaned breathles as you fell onto the bed on your back.

He leaned over your body, between your legs, dress now pooled around your waist, your delicate, lacy lingerie in display, his hands now tracing around your inner thighs, and you whimpered again, lifting your hips, needing more of his touch, your skin starting to burn hot beneath his fingers.

"Always so fucking needy." he whispered with thick voice, his lips now lowering along your jaw, then your neck, sucking, licking, and you tilted your head so he could have more access. "Fucked you a thousand times now and you still beg for my touch so pathetically".

You bit your lip, moaning as his hands now rubbed your core above the fabric of your underwear, two fingers in your clit, rubbing, softly, tracing circles, and you couldn't help but arch your back desperately, already soaking wet as the jolt of pleasure went down straight to where his touch was, he always got you so worked up this fast, you couldn't resist it. His other hand went up to your chest, lifting your dress completely until your bare breasts bounced out of it, nipples hardening as the cold air hit your skin. He cupped them with his hands, squeezing softly, face now buried in them, kissing, sucking, licking, and you leaned to his touch as you gasped.

It was as if he knew your body perfectly, where to touch, where to kiss, where to suck, it made you twitch and tremble so easily, no other man had ever made you feel like that.

He stood up in front of you, unbuttoning his shirt with one hand, the other traveling back down to your clother pussy, and you opened your legs wider, sluttier. He grinned, biting his lip.

"Oh, my little angel is feeling slutty today?" He chuckled thickly, slapping you above the clothes, and you jumped in your place, whining with broken voice. "C'mon, show me how bad you want it".

He let his shirt fell onto the ground, chest now bare in front of you, you could never get tired of him, his well maintained body, how the lines of his abs glistened beneath the faint light of the room, and you squirmed on the bed, shaky, clumsy hands running through your body until your fingers touched the lace of your underwear, and you pulled, leaving yourself exposed, swollen, needy, dripping pussy right in front of his eyes. His lips curved into a smirk, his eyes shining filled with lust and hunger. Jake lifted his chin, a silent order.

Looking straight at him through your hazy view, you rubbed yourself, spreading your folds and wetness all around your core, showing him how much you needed him right now. You whimpered, bringing your own soaked digits to your watery mouth, licking yourself clean, tasting your own arousal, and he slapped your thigh, hissing between his teeth. You bit your lip, your thin fingers now covered in your own spit, and you shoved two of them inside of you, arching your back and moaning his name high pitched, touching yourself in front of him, legs spread all the way, pussy swallowing and pulsing and clenching around your fingers as you thrusted them in and out of you.

"Fuck, such a dirty little slut." He whispered, and you nodded tremblingly, pathetic.

You saw him unbuckle his belt as his pants fell onto the floor along with his boxers, his thick, hard-rock, veiny cock in front of you, tip swollen and red and dripping with precum, he stroked himself as you kept your movements in and out of you, whining, telling him you needed him now.

"J-Jakey please, need you so bad..." Your voice was weak, begging.

"Shut up, not yet, whore." He grabbed your wrist with force, making you stop touching yourself. He was being extra mean today, you didn’t mind, you loved it. His rough voice speaked to you precisely. "Knees."

You obeyed almost immediately, even if your legs were shaking and you could barely keep balance, you fell onto your knees on the floor in front of him, his grip now sticked to your hair, strong, hurtful. You glanced at him from below, cheeks red, eyes sparkly, and he lifted his chin again. You looked at his throbbing, thick length in front of your face, and you wrapped your hand around it, not wasting time in sticking your tongue out and tracing circles on the head of his dick, whining at the salty tasted making contact with your taste buds, and you took a deep breath before loosening your jaw, taking him deep in your mouth until he reached your throat, and you sniffed, suppressing a gag, eyes watering. You loved feeling him in your mouth, the taste of his flesh, big, hard as you bobbed your head enthusiastically, taking him out and in again with ease. You've gained enough experience at this point, thanks to him.

"Fuck, such a perfect little mouth." He said between his teeth, sighing deeply as he watched how his member disappeared inside of your warm, wet mouth.

Then his veiny hand reached for you throat, and you choked around him as he tightened his grip, the cold silver of his rings pinching your skin, throat closing around his length, and he thrusted his hips. Your heart pounded faster on your chest, your lungs desperately looking for air, your face turned red as you felt the wet, warm, salty tears falling down your cheeks, and you shut your eyes as he face-fucked you at a strong, selfish pace.

“So fucking beautiful, crying as you choke around me. My good girl”. He praised and you whined around him, rubbing yourself against your toe, desperate for some friction.

He saw this and pulled back, taking his cock out of your mouth as you gasped for air loudly, sniffing through your nose, chest going up and down, vision hazy. He gave you a few seconds, eyebrow raised, like mocking you, but he kept his hand under your chin, thumb caressing you as you caught your breath. Then he thrusted again, deep, to the back of your throat, and you gagged around him, spit falling from the corners of your lips down your neck and to the floor, it was a mess.

Jake wasn’t very loud, but you knew the expression on his face when he was close. His jaw clenched, his eyebrows frowned, low, thick hisses between his teeth, his movements erratic, the grip on your hair getting tighter minute by minute.

You felt it then, warm discharge down your throat, and you coughed pathetically, swallowing most of it. He cupped your face and kissed you deeply, wiping your tears with his thumbs, his touch sweet, making you tremble and whimper above his plushed lips.

Then he lifted you with ease, making you fall onto the bed again, face now buried in the sheets.

“Lift your ass, babygirl.”

And you did, shakily leaning on your elbows you arched your back and lifted your hips towards him, perfectly curving your body just how you knew he liked it, chest against the white sheets as he grabbed your waist and you felt his weight sinking into the mattress, heavy, strong. The anticipation, the need, the desire were killing you, your aching pussy needing to be filled, leaking until it was dripping in your inner thighs.

Then you heard him unwrapping the condom, and you moved your hips side to side, an invitation to take you now, glancing at him over your shoulder, you fluttered your eyelashes with fake innocence.

“Don’t give me those big slutty eyes or i will fuck you all night until you fucking pass out.” Punishment or reward, you thought. You knew how to get him too, after all, he had a thing for ruining your much younger, naive being.

He put on the condom, kneeling behind you and grabbing your hips, you sighed, shutting your eyes as he marked his fingers on your skin.

“Please Jakey… can’t take it anymore, just fuck me please.” Your voice was broken, you just needed him inside of you.

Jake chuckled, mocking you, rubbing the head of his cock between your soaked folds, one, two times, teasing you, and you felt your thighs twitching, trembling, needy. Finally, after a few seconds, he slid inside of you, stretching your walls and making you sob as you grabbed the sheets in your fists, and your entire body shivered, pleasure taking you over once he started thrusting, hard, fast, deep.

“Shit baby, always so fucking tight and perfect no matter how many times i’ve fucked you.” His hand reached for your hair again, and he pulled so you arched your back even more, you moaning once he started fucking you so raw, so selfishly.

The skin of his thighs crashed with your asscheeks as he rocked his hips, the obscene sound combined with your broken moans and his low groans, you loved when he fucked you like this, as if you were his personal doll for him to use as he pleased, so you could only scream and sob his name asking him to please go faster.

“Slutty pussy so perfect around me, fuck.” He leaned down to whisper in your ear, and you whined in response, your pussy clenching around him, giving you away, and he bit your ear lobe, hot breath as he chuckled, slightly breathless “You like that, yeah? You like being my personal slut, not giving a fuck about the fact that i’m married. You are so dirty.”

“F-Feels so good, don’t care, Jakey, wanna be your side chick forever…” He slapped your ass with his palm and the rings on his fingers stinged your sensitive skin, and you screamed high pitched as his thrusts became rougher.

“My pretty dumb slut.” He placed kisses down your back, not stopping his movements.

Then he pulled out and you were about to let out a cry at the empty feeling, but he flipped you over, back now resting on the mattress facing him. His eyes studied your face with a dark look in them, his hair was now messy and sweaty, and he grabbed your legs so you could place them around his neck, and thrusted inside of you again, the new position making him go deeper until you could feel him in every inch of your insides, and you screamed again. It felt so good when he fucked you like this and folded your body as if it was a feather, you turning into a broken mess. Teeth bit your thighs as he slammed his cock into your g-spot over and over, making you see stars, feeling as if your soul was leaving your wrecked, used body.

“Fuck, look how you swallow my cock baby, so fucking good.” His thumb went straight to you clit, rubbing, precise circles that made you whine and gasp, new tears falling down your red, flushed cheeks. “Will never get tired of how twisted your pretty face gets when i’m fucking you.”

“J-Jake, please…” Your voice wasn’t even the same anymore, just pure begging, weeping in it, and he grabbed your chin, attacking your lips agressively.

“You wanna cum, baby? You’re gonna cum all over my cock like the good slut you are?” You nodded desperately, the tension in your lower belly starting to build.

Skins crashed as his heavy weight fell over you in erratic, rough, messy thrusts, and you knew he was close too. His thumb kept rubbing your swollen clit, other hand gripped aroung your thigh until it was red and marked.

“Do it, cum for me, show me how good of a whore you are.” His hand now wrapped around your throat, depriving you from air and you opened your mouth as he spat, you choked on it, gasping loudly.

You came hard, crying, your whole body twitching, your back arched, and your pussy clenched around him so good, the orgasm taking you over in an unnatural way, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as the most obscene, pornographic scream left your mouth.

“Yeah, that’s it, fucking whore.”

Then he came too, filling up the condom inside of you with his cum, guttural groan leaving his throat, the veins on his neck showing up, his head thrown back. Jake thrusted his hips a few more times, prolonging his orgasm, now moving a little weaker.

He pulled out with a pop, and you closed your eyes as you tried to catch your breath and see clear again, feeling his body falling by your side. A hand reached for your waist, and brought you closer, you smiled as you closed your eyes and layed on his chest, warm, sticky skins together. His heart was racing too, and he placed a little kiss on your head.

You stayed like that for a while, silent, your pussy sore and pulsing, sensitive because of the strong orgasm.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand, and he stretched his body over yours to take it on his hand, reading the message, no expression on his face. You didn’t ask, because it wasn’t your business, so you closed your eyes again, while his fingers traced circles on your lower back, fingers moving accross the screen as he replied back. You placed your chin on his chest, looking up at him, and he glanced at you from his phone, smiling softly.

After a few seconds, you broke the silence.

“I was thinking next week maybe we could order room service first?” You asked, kissing across his chest, filling your lungs with his smell.

His face changed subtly, and he locked his phone before putting it back on the nightstand, running a hand through his hair, he let out an exasperated sigh, and you frowned your eyebrows. He seemed to hesitate, his fingers going from your back to your shoulders.

He swallowed.

“I forgot to tell you, baby. There will not be next time”.

Your heart stopped beating on your chest.

“W-What do you mean…” You asked, your voice really low, you just hoped he meant that he would be busy next week or that he had a business trip.

He sighed again, his hand squeezing your arm softly, like trying to comfort you for something you didn’t know yet.

“This is the last time we can see each other.”

You sat on the bed, trying to find your heartbeat on your chest, feeling dizzy suddenly. This couldn’t be happening, he just couldn’t drop you just like that. You didn’t even noticed you were crying until the tears wet your cheeks, and he sat too, bringing you close for a hug, but you pushed his chest, looking at him through your watery eyes.

“W-Why? Did i… Did i do something? You don’t like me anymore? Please Jake just tell me i’ll do anything—"

“It’s not that.” He cut you off, and you freezed. “I’m moving back to Australia.”

And then you laughed, but not because it was funny, because of disbelief. He was leaving the country, in less than a week, and he didn’t even had the courage or decency to tell you. You just weren’t that important to him, you were just what he said, a dumb, slut, side chick.

You sniffed, getting up and running a hand through your messy hair.

“Baby…”

“Don’t call me that, Jake. Are you being for real?” Your arms fell on your sides, and you stood in front of him, naked, you saw how his eyes scanned your body for just a fraction of a second. Bastard. “You’re telling me, we’ve been in an affair for months now, and you just couldn’t even tell me that you were leaving soon? That you would leave me here—"

“Leave you?” He raised an eyebrow, and you shut your lips, staying very, very still, your blood starting to boil as he was the one laughing now. “I’m married, y/n, and you knew that from the start, you are not my wife, and i’m not your husband, and we both are very conscious of that fact, we knew from the start that these wasn’t because we love each other so much. It was pure, physical lust.”

You swallowed, more tears.

And then in hit you, of course, how could you’d been so dumb. Of course you knew he wasn’t yours, of course you knew he had a wife and that he didn’t have feelings for you apart from lust and desire, and the morbidity that the nature of your encounters caused in him. You knew all of this. You weren’t a teenager, god.

But still, a very, small part deep in your heart really wished that he cared enough for you, even just a little bit.

You were just so fucking dumb.

“This relationship had benefits for both of us, you gave me something i lacked, i gave you something you lacked.”

You widened your eyes, really wanting to punch him right now. But a wave of shame showered your body, your whole being.

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean? Are you calling me a whore now? I wasn’t with you because of your fucking patrimony!”

He stayed silent now, groaning as he grabbed his hair. He stared at you for a few seconds, and then streched his hand, holding yours, thumb rubbing softly.

“C’mon, get back in bed, let’s make the most of the time we have left.” He spoke softly, and you crossed your arms, feeling so ashamed.

“No.”

“Y/N…”

You sobbed again, now full crying in front of him, and he immediately got up, wrapping his arms around you and you hid your face on his chest, sniffing against his bare skin. That smell again, this was the last time you would feel it. He kissed your head, but it didn’t feel sweet now, it was mostly like he felt sorry for you. It made you sick.

“Just, know that i had a good time with you, princess. I really did, you made me forget all of the shitty things about my marriage and…”

You stepped back, wiping your own tears.

“Just don’t.”

A good time. Months being in love with him, wishing for him to text you, to go pick you up, to feel his touch, his kisses, to hear his voice. Months of you isolating yourself from any opportunity to have a healthy relationship with any other guy, to find what your heart truly desired.

He just called it a good time.

And your eyes opened, reality hit you right in the face. So you started getting dressed real quick, a numb look in your face.

He stayed there, just anylising you.

“What are you doing?”

“I wanna go home, please.”

One, two, three seconds of silence. He started getting dressed too.

You cried all the way back home, and he didn’t say a word to you, not even sorry, not even trying to explain himself. But who were you fooling, you weren’t the victim in this situation, you accepted this from the very beggining, never thinking of the consecuenses it might bring.

That was the last time that you saw Jake Sim.

Because the next morning, with eyes swollen from crying, vision hazy as you just woke up, the news hit you like a slap on your face when you opened your social media. And the tears came again once you read the headline.

“Jake Sim, famous Ceo, soon to be a father.”

[iconbyunghun]

first time

Pairing: Lee Byung Hun x virgin!reader

Summary: After a failed attempt to take the step into intimacy with your beloved boyfriend, you finally feel confident enough to give yourself to him. He couldn’t long for anything more than making you feel desired and showing you how amazing making love can be.

Warnings: Smut 18+, MDNI, age gap (early-20s/50s), virginity loss, oral (fem receiving)

Word count: 3.9 k

a/n: I wish I had more time during the week to finish my drafts (work and adult life sucks) :( so this is one of them. I tried to make it kinda fluff, but I’m not sure if I succeeded.

From the beginning, sincerity was the foundation of your relationship with Byung Hun. Despite the significant age difference, the chemistry between you made everything flow wonderfully during the six months you had been together. You loved being able to talk to him about anything, sharing your doubts and concerns, and feeling how his maturity and experience always had the perfect answer for everything. But, although you never hid anything from each other, there was one topic that, up until that point, had never been addressed.

Intimacy.

It wasn't a lack of desire. You felt it in the way he looked at you when he thought you didn’t notice, in the way his hands lingered a little longer on your skin, in how his kisses, at certain moments, became more demanding. And, of course, you weren’t oblivious to how attractive he was—his presence, his gaze, the tone of his voice—he was every woman’s dream.

The breaking point came one night after you attended an event as his guest. When it ended, he suggested going to his apartment, and there, with a few glasses of wine in your system, you both let yourselves be carried away by the rhythm of your lips meeting. His jacket ended up on the floor as he positioned himself over you, supporting his weight on his knees and his left arm beside your head. Without breaking the kiss, he deepened it, making it more intense. Your hands, tangled in his hair, gave him gentle squeezes as his free hand slid down your thigh, caressing your skin before slipping under your dress. He smiled against your lips as his fingertips brushed against your warm, damp center, confident that you were ready for him.

And suddenly, you broke the kiss—and the moment. The instant you felt him move your underwear aside and attempt to slide a finger inside you, you snapped out of the trance immediately. As a reflex, you tried to close your legs and pushed his shoulders with a startled gasp.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, concern evident in his voice as he gave you the space you seemed to need. He was worried he had done something wrong.

You curled your legs against your chest, resting your arms on your knees. Your face burned with embarrassment. You didn’t know how to explain it, and all you wanted was for the ground to swallow you whole.

Since you had started dating, you had thought about this topic many times. You had never had sex before, and it wasn’t something that had particularly interested you. Not until you started your relationship. You knew he was experienced and that, at some point, he would expect to take that step with you, as any couple would.

In your limited romantic experience, you had never gone beyond kissing and a few touches with an ex. Most of your friends had already done it, and from listening to their stories—almost always disastrous—you couldn’t help but feel a certain aversion to the idea of being naked, exposed, and vulnerable in front of someone else.

Even if that person was your beloved boyfriend, someone who loved you devotedly and would never hurt you, you simply needed more time to feel safe.

"I-I’m sorry..." was all you could say before rebellious tears welled up in your eyes.

Byung Hun, still trying to understand the situation, shifted on the couch and focused his attention on you. Feeling a pang in his chest at seeing you so vulnerable, he lifted a hand to gently stroke your face and wipe away your tears.

"Baby, you don’t have to apologize for anything," he said softly, searching for clues in your gaze.

The lump in your throat grew bigger. You felt like a fool for not being able to do something so “normal” and for not even being able to explain it without breaking down in tears.

"I-I’ve never..." You bit your lip, searching for the right words. "I’ve never done it... and I don’t want you to think I don’t want to, but I need more time..."

Covering your face with your hands, you rested your forehead on your knees. You couldn’t bear to look at him.

Byung Hun raised his eyebrows, surprised, and then he understood everything. He felt bad for assuming you already had experience.

"Sweetheart, I’m the one who should be apologizing," he said tenderly, taking your arms and pulling you into his embrace. "Come here."

With gentle movements, he slid one hand along your back and the other under your thighs, effortlessly guiding you onto his lap. Wrapping his strong arms around your waist, he pulled you close, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You curled up against his chest, feeling his warmth envelop you completely.

"I should have been more mindful of this. You don’t have to feel bad."

For a moment, the thought that he might love you a little less for not giving in scared you, but his warm embrace and words of understanding dispelled that fear.

"Doesn’t it bother you to wait a little longer?" you asked in a trembling voice. "I... I don’t want you to get tired of me..."

He let out a soft chuckle before placing another kiss on your head, lingering there for a few seconds as he inhaled the sweet scent of your hair.

"Sweetheart, I’m completely in love with you," he said seriously. "I want it to be special for you when it feels right."

That night, you fell asleep in his arms, letting his warmth surround you.

After that, the topic was never brought up again. You both continued with your routine, but the thought lingered more persistently in your mind.

You started analyzing your body in the mirror after showering, wondering if he would like you enough, if you were attractive enough when fully exposed. The thoughts forming in your head told you no—not when he had been with stunning models and actresses you could never compare to—and that only discouraged you more.

You searched for information online, though it wasn’t the most reliable source, but you didn’t have the confidence to ask a friend about your doubts. Most advice said that to avoid discomfort, your partner should prepare you well and that you should know your own body. You wondered what they meant by "knowing yourself better." It wasn’t as if you had never masturbated before, but it wasn’t something habitual for you. And now, when you tried following the advice, you only ended up frustrated—rather than letting the sensation flow, you just felt stressed.

Byung Hun, for his part, made sure not to make you uncomfortable again. His touches were completely innocent: his hugs purely comforting, accompanied by kisses on your cheek, forehead, and soft pecks on your lips.

You started sleeping over at his place more often, which allowed you to spend more time together. Even if your schedules didn’t always align during the day, you could always see each other for breakfast, lunch, and, without fail, at night to rest.

That Sunday night, as had become routine, you two picked—or rather, you picked—a movie to watch before bed.

"Are you paying attention?" you asked, turning your head to look at your boyfriend.

He smiled before placing a soft kiss on your temple.

"It’s Twilight, baby. I don’t think I need one hundred percent of my focus to understand it," he teased, earning a light slap from you on his shoulder.

You laughed, adjusting yourself slightly before returning your attention to the movie, which was nearing its end. Both of you were curled up in bed, the sheets covering half of your bodies. He was dressed in pajama pants and a white T-shirt, while you wore a silk top with thin straps and matching shorts—ones he had gifted you. Your head rested on his left arm while his other arm wrapped around you, holding you close.

His fingers began to trace barely-there caresses on the exposed skin of your abdomen. At first, it seemed like an unconscious gesture, but you noticed. The sensation became hypnotic, completely capturing your attention. Suddenly, you became more aware of the heat of his body against yours, of his masculine scent enveloping you—intoxicating and consuming.

Almost without thinking, you pressed yourself closer to him. The movement made his touch stop, leaving you with a subtle sense of emptiness. Your gaze slides sideways toward his face. He seems focused on the end of the movie. The dim light from the TV casts shadows over his features. His hair was longer now—at your request—and you loved how a few strands fell over his forehead. His glasses, always present, gave him an intellectual air you adored. His strong jawline and well-defined nose were the perfect combination, and when he ran his tongue over his lips to moisten them, the simple gesture sparked something inside you that you hadn’t felt before.

Without thinking too much, you placed your hand on his chest in a casual attempt to get his attention. His eyes lowered until they met yours, and a smile formed on his lips.

"Everything okay, princess?" he asked curiously.

You didn’t say anything. You simply leaned in and brushed your lips against his in a soft kiss. Your hand moved up to his cheek, and he responded immediately, returning the gesture with the same tenderness.

He leaned slightly over you, shifting his weight carefully as his lips moved over yours with patience, exploring you without rush. His glasses slipped slightly down the bridge of his nose, and noticing your breath fogging them up, he took them off with a smile before setting them on the nightstand. You took the opportunity to grab the remote and pause the movie just as the credits started rolling. The dim light from the screen was the only thing illuminating you both.

His attention returned to you. He leaned in, his lips barely inches from yours. Your hand found his cheek again, caressing him in a silent invitation.

“We're feeling affectionate tonight, huh?” His tone was playful.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. Yes, you were fully aware of your need for contact that night, but you didn’t need him to make it so obvious.

“Shut up…” you whispered, giving him a light smack on the cheek, which made him laugh.

“Sorry,” he murmured before kissing you again.

This time, his lips moved slower, deeper, making you want more. Your tongue barely grazed his upper lip, and the gesture didn’t go unnoticed by him. He felt the warmth spread inside him. He understood your silent permission, and without hesitation, let his tongue explore the kiss with more intensity. A muffled moan escaped your lips as he invaded your mouth, the touch of your tongues sending electric currents through your body.

His hand settled on your waist before naturally sliding over your skin. You felt it slip under your pajama top, and a shiver ran through you as his palm cupped your breast, squeezing it gently. A gasp left your lips when his thumb brushed over your nipple, hardening it.

The pleasure took you by surprise, making you break the kiss as you tried to catch your breath. He stopped immediately, his eyes searching for approval in your flustered expression.

"Sorry, I got carried away…" he admitted, his voice deeper, huskier than usual. He withdrew his hand gently, bringing it to your cheek, caressing you tenderly.

But frustration filled you. You didn’t want him to stop. Yes, there was a flicker of fear in the back of your mind, but at that moment, your body craved his touch more than anything.

“Byung Hun…” his name slipped from your lips in a whisper, and he felt a shiver run down his spine.

You took his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and guided it back to your chest. “I want you to continue.”

Your voice was a little firmer now, and he searched your face for any sign of hesitation. “Baby, you know we’ll only go as far as you want, right?”

You nodded, and he sighed in relief. He didn’t want you to feel any pressure.

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips before kissing you again.

This time, when his hand slipped under your pajama, it moved with confidence. His thumb traced slow circles over your nipple, and your muffled moans were swallowed by his mouth.

And you felt it. His hardness against you, even through the fabric, his hips unconsciously pushing against your center, sending a wave of pleasure through you. You knew that if you wanted to stop, now was the time. But your body responded instinctively—your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Baby, I need you to help me with this…” he murmured against your lips, grasping the hem of your pajama.

You hesitated for a second, and with a slow breath, you sat up and pulled the garment over your head, but as you lay back down, your arms instinctively crossed over your chest. Byung Hun remained on his knees, watching you with desire.

“I think we should be in the same conditions,” you muttered, noticing that he was still dressed.

“Well, that seems fair,” he replied with a nod before pulling his shirt over his head and letting it drop to the bedroom floor.

Your eyes roamed over his bare chest, down his torso, following the faint veins disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants. His body still held its athletic definition, and you were completely captivated by the sight.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll be the embarrassed one,” he teased.

Your gaze returned to his face, finding him with an amused expression. He loved seeing you like this—expectant, eager. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about being the first man to have you. He wanted to show you how good making love could feel and ensure you never forgot your first time.

He placed his hands on your thighs, caressing them softly before leaning down to press a kiss on the inside of each. Then, propping himself up on his forearms on either side of your abdomen, he began trailing small kisses along your skin.

His hands reached the waistband of your silk shorts, slowly sliding them down as his kisses followed the path. He left a lingering one at the top edge of your underwear.

“No… you don’t have to…” your voice trembled slightly with nervousness, stopping him.

He looked up at you and pressed a final kiss to your stomach. “Baby, if you want this to be easier, you have to let me prepare you.”

You wondered how he could speak so naturally while you could barely nod. But you trusted him.

“Okay…” you whispered. And you mentally thanked yourself for always keeping that area bare for comfort.

He placed another kiss just below your navel before sitting up and, with both hands, slid your shorts and panties down together. You lifted your hips slightly and then your legs to help him remove them completely.

When he tossed the garment aside and looked at you again, he swallowed hard.

The sight before him was sublime—you were naked and completely exposed to him. Your arms instinctively tried to cover your chest, your legs remained pressed together, and your skin burned with a blush he wasn’t sure was from heat or embarrassment. He didn’t know if paradise existed, but he had an angel right in front of him.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

He reached out, parting your legs and settling between them. A stifled moan escaped your throat as you felt his heavy breath against your most sensitive area. His grip on your thighs was firm, his eyes gleaming with hunger as he took in the glistening evidence of your arousal.

You bit your lower lip, trying to hold back a moan—but it was useless. The moment his tongue traced a slow, deliberate path along your center, working its way up to your clit, a shudder ran through your body. He groaned softly against you, savoring your taste like a drug that left him craving more. His tongue moved with precision, teasing and exploring, while your breathless moans filled the room.

When he flicked the tip of his tongue over your clit, your hands, which had been clutching the sheets, shot up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on. He responded eagerly, his mouth devouring you as if you were the most exquisite thing he had ever tasted. He sucked on your most sensitive spot, making you arch against him, and when you tugged at his hair in desperation, he only groaned in approval, the vibrations making your whole body tremble.

Lowering his mouth, he let his tongue glide down to your entrance while his fingers gathered your wetness. A shiver coursed through you as he pressed them gently against you.

“Fuck… you taste so damn sweet,” he murmured against your core before slowly easing two of his long, thick fingers inside you.

Your body tensed at the new sensation, but he kept you distracted, his tongue never ceasing its movements. His fingers moved with a slow, deliberate rhythm, sliding in and out, curling slightly to brush against a spot inside you that made your thighs tremble. He spread his fingers just enough to stretch you, coaxing your body to open up for him.

The pleasure built quickly, a tight coil forming in your stomach. His free hand rested on your lower abdomen, feeling the way your body quivered beneath his touch. Your hips instinctively began to move in time with him, chasing the mounting pleasure. His mouth latched onto your clit once more, alternating between sucking and flicking his tongue with fervor. His fingers quickened their pace, thrusting deeper, and then—

A sharp, blissful tremor surged through you as the wave of pleasure crashed over you, pulling you under.

“B-Byung Hun,” you moaned, his name escaping your lips as he licked and kissed you through the aftershocks of your release. Your chest rose and fell in rapid breaths, your body still tingling in the aftermath.

“My sweet princess,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet adoration. You slowly opened your eyes, finding him hovering above you, his face mere inches from yours. Your gaze drifted to his lips—swollen and glistening from his efforts.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You swallowed, still trying to steady your breathing. “Y-yeah… that was incredible,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Satisfaction flashed across his features, pride evident in the way he smirked. “Give me a second,” he murmured before pulling away and standing up.

Your legs still trembled as you watched him cross the room, his broad back a perfect view. He rummaged through a drawer in the closet before turning back toward you, a small silver packet in his hand. Your eyes widened slightly. He had condoms here?

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said with a sheepish chuckle. “At some point, we were going to do this, so I had to be prepared.”

There was nothing hesitant in the way he carried himself. He was calm, confident, utterly sure of what was about to happen. Standing beside the bed, his gaze roamed your body as he reached for the waistband of his pants. Without another word, he let them drop to the floor.

Your breath hitched.

Even through the fabric of his boxers, you could see how hard he was. The sight sent a new rush of heat through you.

Climbing back onto the bed, he knelt between your legs. With deliberate slowness, he slid his boxers down, freeing his length. Your stomach clenched at the sheer size of him. This was definitely going to hurt.

Tearing open the silver packet, he rolled the condom down his length with practiced ease. You couldn't take your eyes off him.

Noticing your gaze, he let out a small laugh and cleared his throat to get your attention. He winked at you, amusement and desire shining in his eyes.

“We’ll take it slow,” he assured, his voice raspy. “But if you want me to stop at any point, just say the word.”

You nodded. “I trust you.”

A slow, reassuring smile tugged at his lips before he shifted closer. One hand slid between your thighs, fingers gliding along your oversensitive folds, while the other guided himself to your entrance. He brushed against you, coating himself in your arousal before pushing in—just the tip at first.

A sharp, stinging sensation made you gasp, your fingers digging into his arms. He immediately leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your neck, his lips soft and soothing against your skin.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with restraint. “Taking me so well.”

He pushed in deeper, inch by inch, letting you adjust. You sucked in a deep breath, trying to relax, feeling every stretch of him as he buried himself to the hilt.

A low, guttural groan left his lips. “Fuck… you feel so, so good.”

The tremor in his voice sent a jolt straight to your core, making your walls tighten around him. His arms trembled slightly from holding back, from trying not to lose himself in the overwhelming heat of you.

You swore you had never heard anyone sound so damn sexy in your life.

“Please… keep going,” you whispered.

You gasped as your body gradually adjusted to his intrusion, the discomfort melting away into something deeper, more intoxicating.

He started with slow, careful movements, rocking his hips in a steady rhythm. His lips found yours, swallowing your soft moans as your hands clung to the back of his neck. Little by little, the lingering pain faded, replaced by waves of pleasure that built with each thrust.

A particularly sharp moan tore from your lips when he hit a precise spot inside you, making your vision blur with white-hot pleasure. You needed more.

“Go… go faster,” you pleaded, your voice trembling.

Byung Hun didn’t hesitate. Almost instantly, he picked up the pace, his movements becoming more urgent, more demanding. The room filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin, of breathless moans and the sheer bliss of being completely filled for the first time.

Your walls tightened around him, the pressure almost unbearable. He knew you were close—so was he. He wouldn’t last much longer.

“Cum for me, baby,” he murmured against your ear, his voice thick with desire, before trailing wet kisses down your neck. That was all the stimulation you needed, his name slipping from your lips in a breathy moan

“You’ve done so fucking good,” he panted. With one last ragged breath and a few uneven thrusts, he spilled into the condom, his body trembling against yours.

His breathing was still uneven as he carefully pulled out, disposing of the used condom before collapsing beside you. Without a word, he wrapped you in his arms, your overheated bodies molding together in a lazy, intimate embrace.

With a slow, deliberate movement, he shifted onto his back, pulling you onto his chest. The tension in your body slowly unraveled, replaced by a warmth that settled deep in your bones.

Still floating on the lingering high of pleasure, you felt your eyelids grow heavy, your breathing slowing as sleep crept in.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice laced with adoration as his fingers traced lazy patterns down the curve of your back.

A sleepy smile ghosted your lips as you nuzzled closer. “I love you too,” you whispered against his skin, before surrendering to the pull of sleep.