#They are just part of the background. Part of the immersion.

[interact-if]

Writing Spotlight: The Golden Rose

We interviewed @anathemafiction, author of the IF, The Golden Rose, Book 1. It’s a game that delivers everything it sets out to do, with its sweeping, ambitious scope and beautiful, intricate detail. It was an honor to pick her brain about bringing such a rich, complex, and truly immersive world (and its wonderful characters) to life.

In one of my favorite quotes in the interview, she writes:

[…] We Portuguese sometimes still call ourselves Lusitanos, and it always saddened me to some extent. That loss of history, of identity, is one of the major driving forces behind the Rose. What if there's a world where it's Rome that's forgotten? Where Latin is forbidden so that the languages born from it, the kingdoms, and the civilizations never came to be?

Without further ado, here’s the full interview!

What drew you to interactive fiction as a storytelling medium?

The very nature of it. I'm a big fan of RPGs, where you can shape your character and make key decisions in your adventure, and, of course, I'm also a big fan of books and literature in general. So, when I encountered my first IF game (Choice of Dragon), I was instantly hooked.

It's the perfect blend of two of my passions — storytelling and player agency. The fact that it's entirely text-based gives a kind of freedom and depth that's hard to match in other gaming media simply because the only budget it needs is the author's time and effort. It's quite literally, corny as it sounds, fuelled by your imagination.

2. Is there a part of your background—personal, cultural, professional—that finds its way into your work?

In a land that is today a region of Portugal, there used to be an agglomeration of tribes collectively known as Lusitanos. They were eventually conquered by the Roman Empire, but not before putting up such a fight that even Roman generals acknowledged their spirit. Their culture was largely eradicated, and the pieces that weren't were assimilated into the empire. We Portuguese sometimes still call ourselves Lusitanos, and it always saddened me to some extent.

That loss of history, of identity, is one of the major driving forces behind the Rose. What if there's a world where it's Rome that's forgotten? Where Latin is forbidden so that the languages born from it, the kingdoms, and the civilizations never came to be?

I'm also fascinated by the Catholic Church and its monopoly over some of the wealthiest, most powerful kingdoms of Europe. The Pope was the king of kings, so to speak, and all that power, that opulence, was born from something as simple and as human as faith.

That control, that God-like power, not only over the body but the very mind of its subjects, is another big part of the story I'm writing.

So, in summary, my cultural background was and is a major influence on this IF.

3. What does your writing process look like?

I'm what's generally called a pant-ser; I like going where inspiration takes me. Still, in a project as big as The Rose, I did write a general outline, and I have a very clear idea of where I want the plot to go and the major story beats that will get me there.

But the in-betweens are often left blank. I think, even if I tried to plan every single detail beforehand, I wouldn't be able to. Even the scenes and chapters that I have planned, I'm always open to changes or deviations from the outline. If a character, a situation, or, especially, the MC decides to surprise me, I kind of roll with it.

To be honest, most of my favorite scenes, dialogues, and even characters that I've written were born as a sudden inspiration and not from the pages of an outline.

But as for my actual writing process, it goes like this: I go chapter by chapter, and I always begin by handwriting the first draft. I don't know why, but handwriting, when it comes to just getting the ideas out of your head, with no finesse, no grammar checks, just the pure chaos of materializing your thoughts into tangible words, is the best medium for me.

After that, I write the second draft on the computer. There, I fill in all the choices and paths I didn't write in the first draft, and, of course, beautify the text, make the dialogue fit the characters, discard or expand on rudimentary ideas, etc. Basically, it's where I write the text that'll appear in the game.

This juxtaposition between the first draft and the second allows me to rethink story beats, adjust the progression of the characters' relationships, postpone scenes, etc. Basically, it allows me to think about where the chapter is going.

The third step is to put it all in code and make it playable. As I go through the Word document, I make minor edits here and there, but nothing major.

The actual editing is made later, in what I call a 'deep edit.' I usually do this when I finish writing the following chapter because looking at a text with fresh eyes allows you to spot mistakes much better than if you do it right away.

4. What’s one piece of advice you’d give to someone just starting out in interactive fiction?

To follow up on the last question, I will say that you need to know yourself. Just as I operate better without a clear, bullet-proof plan, other people thrive with a structured outline, a character glossary 20k words long, chapter charts, and multicolored graphics. My advice is that before you embark on such a complex and often big project as an IF game, you should know your own writing process, and the only way for you to know that is if you write.

I'd say start with short stories or small fables, but honestly, just write anything. Dive right in, and with time, you'll begin to know yourself as a writer.

When you know yourself and your own style, then begin the IF. You'll never be truly 100% prepared — we're always learning and adjusting. I'm not the same writer I was when I first started The Rose, and I won't be what I am now when I finish this second book. We're constantly evolving, so allow yourself space to fail and fall short of expectations. This is, after all, a marathon, not a sprint.

5. What’s a common mistake you see in interactive storytelling, and do you have any tips on how to avoid it?

Not so much a mistake but a misconception. I think people, especially those with little to no experience writing (or any creative hobby), believe that it's an inspiration-based activity. That you write whenever you feel like it.

This is completely wrong. If I only wrote whenever I felt inspired to, I wouldn't have made it past the third chapter of book one.

Some days — most days — you won't feel like writing. You sit at your desk, and you do it. You have to face it like a job, almost. You clock in, do your work, and leave. Does this mean I have no joy in writing? Of course not. I get really into it once I begin, but it's not every day that I wake up and want to leap for my pen.

Sometimes, I'd rather go out hiking with my dog, meet a friend for coffee, or watch another episode of whatever show I'm watching. But, when writing IF, you often will have to make these sacrifices, and, many times, you won't even be blessed with inspiration, so that sacrifice is made easier.

This is made even worse in IF. Due to the nature of the medium, you will get days where you're stuck writing repeating passages or paths you're not entirely interested in. You will want to pull the hair out of your head. You'll have to clench your teeth and do it — otherwise, you won't make it to the fun, rewarding bits where everything comes together.

It's not an exaggeration when people say, 'writing is hard.' Anyone can do it. Very few actually do. I think it's less about talent and more about commitment.

End of interview

—

A big thanks once again to Anathema for her insightful answers, and @veswrites-if for taking the time to coordinate the interview. Hope that this was a fun and interesting read.

Stay tuned for more of these interviews, both for the Writing Spotlight AND for Pride Month!!

[rosierin]

ya wanna kiss me so bad | atsumu miya

synopsis; (y/n) and atsumu get into a fight and he tries to flirt his way out of it 'cause he's a piece of shit like that.

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

It started with the dishes.

Well—technically, it started when Atsumu promised he’d do the dishes.

Three days ago.

(Y/n) stood in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, staring at the criminally large stack piled in the sink—then at Atsumu.

“You said you’d do them.”

Atsumu didn’t look up from the couch, fully immersed in the volleyball match on the TV. “I was gonna.”

“When?”

“I dunno. Soon.”

“You said that yesterday.”

(Y/n) exhaled slowly through her nose, willing herself to stay calm. She wasn’t looking for a fight—just a little accountability. That’s all she wanted.

“I do the dishes almost every night. You never do them. I asked you nicely, too—c'mon, it's not that hard."

Atsumu didn’t look away from the TV. His eyes stayed glued to the screen, jaw slack, remote in hand like she was nothing more than background noise.

(Y/n) could’ve sworn she heard him click his tongue—followed by something muttered under his breath.

“Like I said... I’m gonna do ‘em. Today.”

She glanced at the clock.

Her eye twitched.

“It’s already almost eight.”

This time, Atsumu finally looked up, brows raised like she was the one being unreasonable. Like she had the audacity of bothering him. “Why’re ya gettin’ so pressed over dishes?”

(Y/n) stared him down. “It’s not just the dishes, Atsumu. It’s you saying you’ll do something and then not doing it. Every time.”

“God,” he groaned, flopping his head back dramatically. “I didn’t think it was that deep.”

She counted to three in her head. Once. Twice. Tried to let it go.

But the third time never came.

“Well, it is to me!”

She hadn’t meant to yell. But the words came out sharper than she intended, propelled by the weight of too many eye rolls and broken promises.

Atsumu sat up straighter. The humour slipped from his face.

The shift was instant. Gone was the lazy, half-smirking Atsumu—this was the version that actually listened. The one that made her chest ache more than her head.

“Oh,” he said. “So this’s somethin' that's been sittin’ on yer chest, huh?”

(Y/n)’s throat tightened but she stood her ground. "Yes, actually. 'Cause I'm tired of constantly cleaning up after you. You're not a child, Atsumu."

“Oh, so now we're name callin'?"

“I didn’t—” She clicked her tongue, frustration cutting through. Her voice came out sharper now, more intentional. “Atsumu, listen. I’m tired, okay? I ask for one thing—one—and you still—!”

“Alright! I forgot, okay? Christ—yer actin’ like I burned the damn house down. Is it really worth all this?”

(Y/n) looked at him. Really looked. The complete lack of guilt on his face, the way he made her feel like she was the one causing the problem—

Her hands curled into fists. That was it.

“Yes!” she bit back, voice cracking. So much for not raising her voice. “Because it makes me feel like you don’t give a shit!”

Silence.

His jaw clenched. He looked away.

(Y/n) took a shaky breath, chest still heaving with the leftover heat of the argument.

“You always do this," she said through gritted teeth.

“Do what?” he said tightly, eyes narrowing.

“Deflect. Dodge. Make it a joke so you don’t have to deal with it.”

Atsumu stood.

Slowly.

(Y/n) stiffened as he rose from the couch, his full height unfolding like a threat she hadn’t expected. His eyes didn’t leave hers—not even once—as he stepped around the coffee table and crossed the room, unhurried.

And when he stopped?

He was standing far too close for her liking.

She hated when he got like this—when he used his much broader build against her.

It felt unfair. Cheap. A trick she’d seen him pull before.

And yet—infuriatingly—it still worked. Not because she was scared of him—she knew better than that. But because it made her feel small, and she hated giving him even a flicker of that power.

It was Atsumu, after all. All bark and no bite. All bluff and bravado.

Still, her pulse picked up before she even realised.

“And you always make me out to be some kinda villain,” he said, voice low now—measured, unpredictable.

She swallowed, stubbornly holding his gaze.

She’d be damned if she gave him the satisfaction of stepping back. Of flinching. Of letting him know he had any kind of effect on her.

But the pounding in her chest didn’t stop. Not as he drew closer. Not as his shadow overtook hers.

“Because you make it so easy—”

Another step.

Her breath hitched.

“—and you never—!”

“Admit it, ya wanna kiss me so bad.”

Silence.

(Y/n) blinked. Once. Twice.

Her lips parted.

“…What?”

Atsumu tilted his head, smirk blooming slow and smug like he knew exactly what he was doing. “That’s what all this is, right? You’re mad. You’re red. You’re yellin’. All that heat’s gotta go somewhere.”

She just stared at him.

Not because she was flustered.

Not at first.

No, at first it was the sheer audacity. The unbelievable, blinding nerve.

She opened her mouth—ready to argue, to insult, to throw hands—but nothing came out. Because what the hell do you even say to that?

Her jaw dropped. “You—are you being serious right now?”

“That’s not a no.”

She made a sound—half scoff, half inhale—then clamped her mouth shut again.

He was still watching her, calm and cocky like he hadn’t just detonated a bomb in the middle of their argument.

It was infuriating. That look on his face—like he knew exactly how off-balance he’d thrown her.

And the worst part? The longer she stood there, the warmer her cheeks grew. Not from the flirting. Not really.

From the fact that he was getting to her. And he knew it.

“You—you think you can flirt your way outta this?” she sputtered, cheeks burning. “You think I’m just gonna forget everything ’cause you said something stupid with that dumb look on your face?!”

He grinned—all teeth and no shame. “S’worked before.”

She shoved him—light, almost pathetic. Less about pushing him away and more about saving face.

“You’re impossible. Honestly, Miya. You're insufferable.”

Atsumu shrugged, unbothered, stepping in again, voice dropping like velvet. “I’ve been called worse.”

She stared up at him, hands twitching with the urge to strangle the smug out of him.

Still burning. Still flustered. Still not sure if she wanted to punch him or scream or shut that mouth of his by—

She needed to leave before she found out.

She turned on her heel.

“I’m done. I. Am. Done.”

And then she was gone—before he could see the look on her face, or the way her hands were still clenched at her sides like she was holding back a war.

What was she even angry about again? The dishes? His stupid grin?

Ugh. Whatever. She’d let Osamu deal with him.

For now, she needed to cool the fuck off.

Bonus scene:

[Kitchen – Two minutes later]

(Y/n) was long gone.

The room had fallen quiet again—aside from the sound of the volleyball match still playing on the TV. Atsumu had completely forgotten it was on.

He stood in the middle of the living room, still wearing that smug, post-chaos expression like it was his favourite cologne.

Osamu wandered in from the hallway, glanced at the leftover tension hanging in the air, then looked at his twin.

“You do the dishes yet?”

Atsumu didn’t blink. “Nope.”

Osamu exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “So what was all that for, then?”

Atsumu shrugged. “She started it. Probably just wanted to blow off some steam."

Suna’s voice floated in from the doorway. “You’re lucky she didn’t slap you.”

Atsumu just smirked, eyes drifting toward the hallway (y/n) had disappeared down.

Osamu gave him a look. “She wanted to. Another word outta ya and I reckon she'd have actually tried to kill ya.”

Atsumu scoffed. “Kiss, kill. Who’s to say?”

Osamu and Suna replied in unison—both flat, both immediate:

“Definitely the latter.”

“Kill. One hundred percent.”

Atsumu muttered under his breath, full of misplaced confidence, “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Osamu rolled his eyes and turned toward the kitchen.

“Unbelievable," he muttered. "Move. I’ll do the damn dishes.”

Atsumu stepped aside—grudgingly—and Osamu smacked the back of his head on the way past.

“Ow—!”

“If ya keep refusin’ to pull yer own weight,” Osamu called over his shoulder, already halfway to the sink, “we’re kickin’ ya out. Don’t think we won’t, ‘Tsumu.”

Atsumu huffed, rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah, yeah... whatever, ‘Samu.”

He didn’t argue. He’d been around his brother long enough to know when he was being serious.

And he most definitely was.

Then, right on cue, (y/n) reappeared.

She strolled in—calm, composed, and way too smug for someone who’d stormed off minutes ago.

Ah. So she’d overheard then.

She didn’t say a word.

No eye roll. No snide remark. No dramatic sigh. Just a glance toward the sink—where Osamu had, without hesitation, taken her side.

Then she helped herself to the last piece of leftover mochi and walked straight back out.

No performance. No victory speech. Not even a single glance in his direction.

It was like she didn’t even need to rub it in—because having Osamu and Suna in her corner was enough

Atsumu stared after her, brow twitching.

For once, it was him who felt the heat rising.

“Why’s she quiet now?” he muttered. “That’s so much worse.” I honestly rather she just yelled.

Suna sauntered into the living room next, sipping from a coffee cup. “Mm. Sucks, huh?”

Atsumu flopped onto the couch with a scowl, arms crossed like an oversized sulking child.

“She’s doin’ it to rile me up.”

Suna flashed him a knowing look. “Sounds like you’ve got a type.”

Atsumu scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

But he didn’t sound very convinced.

[dumbseee]

i’ll be watching you, two.

note: here’s the part 2! i hope you guys like it! thanks for the support on part 1, really it makes me so happy that you guys liked it <33 don’t hesitate to comment and reblog, btw you can send me requests if you want me to write anything on the weak hero class characters!

part one.

seongje didn’t get it.

he didn’t know how he got there, but he was currently sitting next to seongmok, watching an episode of the current romance drama he was watching.

"why are they staring at each other like that? it’s been ten minutes, just fucking kiss already." seongje sighed, lighting a cigarette, lifting it to his mouth. seongmok sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose before glaring at seongje.

"for god’s sake shut up!" seongmok’s frustrated tone made seongje chuckle.

the next scene happened after the mc got beaten up by some thugs, and the female love interest ended up tending to his wounds, which created another romantic scene with those stupid love ost in the background. seongje frowned, suddenly interested, he sat up correctly and watched. which actually surprised seongmok.

the scene ended up with a soft kiss between the two characters, and a light went up in seongje’s mind. he suddenly stood up, which made seongmok jump slightly.

"seongmok, i want you to beat me up."

the taller one looked up at seongje, a frown on his face as he paused the tv.

"what are you on? are you on drugs?" he asked, but seongje looked at him with a determined expression, hands in his pocket and his cigarette on the ground, seongmok sighed before standing up. well, he always wanted to knock some sense into seongje.

you were currently getting ready to go to bed, you had to go to the library, early in the morning, so you could study for your exams. school took the majority of your time, so you never had time to hang out or meet new people. your studies were everything to you. and your part-time job also didn’t help in having a social life.

you were so immersed in your thoughts, that you didn’t even hear the knock on your door. you turned around to look at the door and frowned, you didn’t order anything and sure didn’t expect anyone. you walked towards the door and cursed yourself for still forgetting to add a peephole. you opened it slightly and gasped as you saw a man, on the ground, and clearly beaten up.

"oh god!" your hand went to your mouth, as you immediately plopped down. your heart skipped a beat when your eyes met the man’s eyes, and you quickly recognised him. the guy from yesterday, who saved you from hanbin, your coworker. "it’s you…" you mumbled, he chuckled but winced from the pain of having a busted lip. "wait, let’s go inside." you helped him get up, propping his arm on your shoulders, you walked slowly and gently made him sit on your couch.

seongje was ecstatic, his plan was going so well already. seongmok did a great job at beatting his ass and apparently had a blast doing it.

"i’ll get the first aid kit." you told seongje, under the lights of your apartment, you could have a proper look at his injuries, he had a busted lip, that was still bleeding profusely, his cheek seemed to be bleeding as well and he was clutching his ribs, which worried you more.

seongje had to fight the urge to smile, he kept bitting his lip which didn’t help his case. it just made the cut deeper, and caused more blood to ooze from the wound.

you quickly came back with the first aid kit, concern laced in your traits, which made seongje’s heart speed up, you barely knew him and there you were, worried sick for him. oh, how he loved to see you like this.

his eyes never left your face, you truly were the most gorgeous human being he ever seen. your warm eyes, filled with concern for a man who didn’t deserve it, the little crease on your forehead, translating how concentrated you were in helping seongje, which warmed his cold heart. your face was getting dangerously closer to his, and seongje hated how he couldn’t control the speeding of his heartbeat.

"what happened to you?" you finally asked, the question had been burning your tongue since you opened the door.

seongje did help you with hanbin, and he seemed nice, but the way he got your address without asking you, was still bothering you.

you weren’t a fool, seongje had to be involved in some shady business, to get beaten up like that, and also to be so skilled in fighting.

"don’t worry, i’m sorry for bothering you." liar. he actually orchestrated the whole thing just to see you again.

"it’s okay." your voice was like a soft melody to his ears, he knew he could listen to your voice all day, maybe he should put some recording device in your apartment? that way, he’d be able to listen to you, and know every single thing about you.

"what’s your name by the way?" you asked again, and you were curious about him? seongje was truly in heaven right now, getting taken care of by you, and you were asking things about him.

"geum seongje, how about you?" what an actor, seongje was surprised in his acting skills, maybe he should consider a career change.

"l/n y/n." he knew that already, of course he did.

he knew everything about you, from your favourite snack to your least favourite coffee shop. he knew about your first boyfriend, that actually broke your heart back in your first year of high school. seongje knew about that too, found the guy and smashed his legs.

no one should be able to walk freely after hurting you.

no one should be able to breath, at all, after hurting you.

the mere thought of you being hurt or sad, made seongje tense for a second, which you caught and made you stop in your movements.

"does it hurt?" seongje couldn’t stop himself from smiling, you were so cute and sweet to him.

"nah, i’m used to it." he mumbled, eyes still fixated on your face, he didn’t miss the look of uncertainty in your eyes.

"you should stop getting into fights, or whatever your doing." you added, which surprised seongje, out of everything you could’ve done or said, you chose to keep worrying for him.

something no one ever did.

this was only his second real interaction with you, but he was already getting addicted. the way you made him feel was a high he knew he’d chase forever. a normal person would’ve never opened their door to a wounded stranger, but you did anyway. you were different.

"how is work? that bastard keeps bothering you?" you finished cleaning the wounds on his face, you put a medium-sized bandage on his cheek and started to tidy up. "he resigned, i think he got the memo after yesterday." you started to stand up so you could put the first aid kit, back in your bathroom, but seongje grabbed your wrist, which startled you.

"ah… my head hurts, i’m feeling dizzy." he closed his eyes and put his head on your lap. he got comfortable, arms crossed on his chest as he kept his eyes closed.

you froze, you didn’t know how to react to that. that guy was weird, that was a given, but something deep inside of you didn’t want to push him away. why? a random guy is laying on your lap, in your apartment, late at night and you’re not calling the police? that’s crazy.

you always lived a simple, sometime boring life, you came from a middle-class family, who sent you to the city for your studies, when you were off school, you were off to work, and then at home to do your homework and sleep. you lived a rather boring life, yes.

so maybe you enjoyed that little change in your routine? and maybe you enjoyed seongje’s chaotic presence? the guy has to be involved in some shady business with the way he showed up with new and old bruises. but weirdly enough, you didn’t ask about it.

something must be wrong with you, but is that so bad?

"what’s gotten you so lost in thoughts?" seongje’s eyes were still closed, and his voice sounded like he was almost falling asleep.

"nothing." you lied, and seongje immediately caught it, he opened his eyes, the way he looked at you kinda made you feel uncomfortable, he looked at you like you were an open book to him. like he could read straight through you.

"don’t lie to me, darling." you hated how your cheek started to burn from the nickname.

you must be ovulating, you never acted this way before. well, you hardly received any attention from the male audience, not that you complained, you loved your peaceful life. but sometimes, you wished someone would barge into your quiet bubble and add some spice.

well, there comes seongje.

"tell me more about you."

woah. for the first time in his life, geum seongje had nothing to say to that. seongje isn’t someone you can shut up easily, he always has something to say, no matter what the question is, he always as an answer.

ask him about himself and it’s crickets.

"what school do you go to, what are your favourite subjects, do you have any dreams? stuff like that." you saw how taken aback he was by your question, and if you were an open book to him, seongje was definitely one to you as well.

without warning, seongje started laughing, almost hysterically. which surprised you, did you say something funny? he was laughing so hard, he started coughing and tearing up. seongje calmed down after a few seconds, he got comfortable again on your lap and looked up at you.

"you’re funny, i’m not that interesting." he answered, and you were a little disappointed by this. you needed to know more about this man, why was he being so mysterious for?

"i want to know more about you, too." even though he already knew a lot, he needed to listen to all the little stories you had about your life.

"i’m an only child, i was born and raised in jeju island, i miss my parents sometimes." at the memory of your parents, a small smile appeared on your lips. "they sent me here to have a better life, and i’m a high school student." he knew all of that already.

"that’s just the surface of who you are, tell me something no one knows about you." not even him.

you had to think about this one for a few seconds, not because you didn’t know what to answer, you weren’t quite sure if you felt comfortable opening up to a literal stranger.

but that’s the thing with seongje, he doesn’t feel like a stranger, he’s so comfortable around you. like he’s known you forever, maybe the two of you knew each other in a past life?

"i’m lonely." you blurted out.

and that surprised seongje.

you? the most beautiful and shining soul he’s ever seen? how could you feel lonely when the room lit up everywhere you went? seongje did notice how you didn’t seem to have any friends except from your coworkers at work and some classmates who seemed to like you. but seongje also noticed how the eyes of everyone in the room were always on you, it did piss him off, but you were always the center of attention, no matter how quiet you were.

"i can’t explain it very well, but i do feel lonely. like my life has no purpose at all, like i don’t belong anywhere, i-… i don’t know." you didn’t notice how you started playing with seongje’s hair. he sure did noticed and almost went into cardiac arrest. "i’m also very scared of the future, i’m not that good of a student, no matter how hard i study, i can’t get those insane grades like my other classmates." you continue, your eyes were focused ahead, but your mind was far away. "what if i end up disappointing my family? they sacrificed so much for me, what if they end up realising that i’m a failure?"

"hey." you jumped at seongje’s harsh tone. you blushed as you yanked your hand out of his hair, but the coldness of his eyes, who were still focused on you, sent shivers down your spine.

seongje finally sat up, his face was only a few inches from yours and you nearly merged with your couch with how hard you were backing away. your cheeks were burning hot and you hated how naked you felt in front of seongje’s piercing gaze.

"don’t you dare say that about yourself." he said, and you weakly nodded.

seongje’s eyes landed on your lips for a second, and it took him all his self restraint to not slam his lips against yours. not yet. but what’s wrong with a little ki-

seongje’s phone started buzzing in his pocket and he swore he’d kill whoever dared to burst his bubble. seongje closed his eyes before sighing, he took out his phone and answered.

"hm? are you kidding me? send dongha or whatever. fuck you baekjin, you owe me one."

you didn’t know who those people were but seongje looked pissed, he hung up and stuffed his phone in his pocket. he looked at you and forced a smile.

"i gotta go, darling, but we’ll see each other again, sleep well tonight." seongje sent you a flying kiss before taking off.

and just like that, seongje was gone.

you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and finally relaxed on your couch. that was one eventful night if you ever had one. but weirdly enough, you liked whatever happened tonight. you got to see seongje again, talked with him, and he even scolded you for doubting yourself. that made you chuckle, he looked so upset at you for a second.

your phone buzzing against your thigh took you out of your reverie. you pulled it out and noticed a new text from an unknown number.

"lock your door and go to sleep, darling, see you very soon." the text read, and once again it got you wondering how did seongje got your number, when you never gave it to him yourself?

on the other side of the city, seongje played with a baseball bat, twirling it around while whistling. the bat was covered in blood, and three men were scattered around, covered in blood and barely conscious. seongje was feral, he was so pissed at how his night turned out, it started so well and ended like shit.

"you’re the reason why i’m not with my girl, tonight." he spat, kicking one of those guy in the face. "because of you, i’m away from her, fucking bitch!" he kicked, again, and again and didn’t stop until he finally was out of breath.

one thing was for sure, you may not know how to figure your life or where you belong, but you sure belonged to geum seongje, always and forever.

[metalarmsrcool]

bookworm blurb

pairing: bookworm!reader x rafe

synopsis: you’re trying to read your book but a certain someone can’t help but distract you

warnings: fluff, smut, daddy kink, pet names, MDNI

something about books always calmed you down. you were an anxious mess ninety nine percent of the time but reading always helped shut your mind off. it made you stop thinking about all the what ifs and kept you from overthinking. you could get so into a book sometimes hours would pass when in felt like only minutes. you could completely focus in on the words on the page and completely forget everything around you. which is why you didn’t notice him standing there watching you.

rafe thought it was cute how you could talk about books all day. he didn’t have the attention span to read that much but he always admired you for it. the way your face would light up when you discovered a new favorite. sometimes you would even cry when one of your favorite characters died. he hated when you cried of course but he found it so fucking endearing how connected you could be to these characters.

he shook his head and slowly walked towards you. your stomach was against the cushions, you knees bent with you feet in the air. your hair in a messy ponytail on the cusp of falling out. they’d spent the whole day home. the weather outside one of those rare cold, rainy days. you always said you loved listening to the rain as you read. it was the perfect background noise.

“hey sweetheart.”

you jumped, quickly closing your book. a blush already rising on your cheeks. you knew you shouldn’t be embarrassed but you always were. your thighs rubbed together as you turned your head to look up at him.

“you scared me!” you let out a laugh as you made to get up but his hands pushed your back down. “what’re you doin’? don’t you wanna sit with me?”

“ ‘course I wanna. but you look comfy, keep reading I just wanted to see you.”

he lifted your legs and slid under you. his hands immediately going to massage your thighs. he could never keep his hands off you for long. Whether it was holding your hand or playing with your hair.

you went back to your book. quickly getting immersed in the words again. it wasn’t uncommon for rafe to sit with you while you read. his hands mindlessly rubbing up and down. occasionally his fingers would drift a little too far up. fingertips grazing your underwear. you hadn’t bothered getting dressed this morning. simply throwing on a shirt and pair of panties.

you’re not sure how long has passed but you were a little more then halfway done with your book.

“baby?” his fingers stopped just below your underwear. tracing the fabrics edges but never straying to your center.

“hmm?”

he knew what he was doing. you’d manage to block him out for the most part. but he’s been getting touchier the longer you read.

“you’re so pretty.” both his hands came up to squeeze your ass and you let out a little moan.

your face was burning. you’d been together for a while now but you’d never get used to this. his words. his touch.

“my pretty girl. you’re reading one of those scenes aren’t you? think i didn’t notice you clenching your thighs? don’t know why you read ‘em when i’m right here.”

you were dripping. it only took a few words and touches from him to have you soaking through your underwear. you tucked your face into your arms. your book falling onto the floor with a little thump.

“so wet. this for me or your little book?” his fingers were teasing. dragging back and forth over the material separating you from him. the material thin. his fingertips catching on your entrance every so often.

“for y-you. always for you.” god he was barely even touching you and you were a panting mess. “please rafe.”

his fingers stopped. his warmth gone in an instant. your head popped up about to ask why he stopped before you felt a sharp sting on your ass.

“tsk tsk. what did i say about you calling me that? try again sweetheart.”

his hand was massaging you over where he slapped. the skin sure to have a pink mark.

“p-please daddy. teasing too much.” you were shocked when he first asked you to call him that. you didn’t realize you’d liked it until you were a moaning mess beneath him, the word slipping out like you’d said it thousands of times before.

“see? that wasn’t so hard baby was it.”

your thighs clenched with his words. his voice alone could make you wet. he knew how to talk in a way that had you melt against him.

“you want my fingers sweet girl? your body’s tellin me ya do. so wet f’me. i don’t know why you bother wearing these. ‘m just gonna take them off.”

sure enough you felt him pulling the fabric down your thighs. you flushed as you felt your wetness trailing down your leg. his fingers coming back up to rub you. trailing up and down your slit. his fingernails catching on your clit making you whine.

“daddy. please.”

you could feel his gaze on you. you’d imagine a smirk lining his lips. you could feel how hard he’d become beneath you. the sweatpants leaving little to the imagination. your hips trying to rub up against him.

“so needy. c’mon baby i wanna hear you say it.”

your face was flushed. you could feel sweat dripping down your neck. his fingers avoiding the one spot you needed him to touch.

“please. p-please fuck me with your fingers.”

his middle and pointer finger immediately dipped into you. you were so wet there wasn’t even any resistance.

“yes. yes. ohmygodplease.”

before you’d met him you’d tried touching yourself. but your fingers were too slim. too short to reach that one spot inside of you. rafe’s the first one to make you cum. his fingers thick and long enough that he barely has to try.

you hear him chuckle. his fingers dragging against your walls. in and out. in and out.

“god baby. you’re dripping down my fingers. feel good yeah? i can feel you gripping me. so fucking tight.”

he lets out a groan as your walls squeeze him. you’re so close. so fucking close. tears brim your eyes and you can’t help but buck against his fingers chasing that feeling. your stomachs tightening and you’re so close you slam your eyes shut. whining and moaning incoherent words. all you can feel is his rough fingers slamming inside you.

“god please i’m about to cum. please i-i need-“

“don’t worry baby. i know what you need.”

his thumb finds your clit. running tight and fast. you throw you head back.

“ohmyfuckinggod”

you feel that spot in your stomach snap. stars dance behind your eyelids as your body slumps on the couch.

you feel him move beneath you. he’s so hard beneath you it makes you whimper at the thought of how he feels inside you.

rafe’s hand, the one he wasn’t using, comes and and grabs your head. tilting your face to look at him.

“eyes on me baby. there she is.”

you’re blinking. your eyelids fighting the heaviness that weighs down your body. yet you feel your body clench as you watch him lick you off his fingers. his eyes never leaving yours.

you feel yourself dripping onto him. no doubt leaving a wet patch on his pants.

“so fucking sweet. here, taste yourself. lick my fingers clean.”

you weakly lean forward and take his fingers in your mouth. gagging slightly as he pushes them in farther.

“there you go. good girl, cleanin’ me up so well.”

um so hi. this is my first attempt at smut and omg what do you think.

[k-hippie]

BRAND NEW K-MOD -> THE K-808 RELEASE -> FIRST WAVE

Its complete name ? k-808 ( Vista Mod )

its function ? The Vista Mod transforms every matte painting and distant background into something more natural, rich, and immersive. Now, the faraway horizons of your Sims’ worlds feel alive and textured—just as they should ... from our perspective ;)

How was it made ? We extracted the maxis matte backgrounds and we replaced with more realistic matte. All "simply" ... The complicated part is to find good materials and adjust the whole stuff

Why don't you release all worlds at the same time ? Because we didn't find yet all the materials needed and as we already working on the k-707, as there are only 24 hours in a day :D well, you see the point ;)

How to install ? Easy. The same way you install the other k-mods ( except the k-707 which is a bit more tricky ) We added pictures below ...

Will you release the stuff for all expansions worlds ? Yes for sure !

Today we release :

Basegame ( Willow Creek only, not Oasis Spring )

Seasons ( Newcrest )

Get to Work ( Magnolia Promenade )

Outdoor Retreat ( Granite Falls )

Discover University ( Britechester )

Life and Death ( Ravenwood )

Here an example of how we install our own mods and cc inside the Mods folder :

The files with -bg- into their names are related to vista view matte backgrounds and files with -gr- into their names are for all trees and plants matte paintings :)

Are you ready for a MUCH BOLDER PERSPECTIVE ?

THESE FILES OVERRIDE THE GAME FILES AND WORK FINE IN-GAME …

Made with S4Studio Date of Release : February 15, 2025 BaseGame : compatible Category : none Price : none

IF YOU THINK IT GOOD ENOUGH : KO-FI // PAYPAL

Download HERE

xoxo - blackgryffin

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

The Telling Truth: When 'Show, Don't Tell' Doesn't Apply (You Don't Always Have To Show, Don't Tell.)

Hey there, fellow writers and beloved members of the writeblr community! 📝✨

Today, I want to talk about something that's been on my mind lately, and I have a feeling it might resonate with many of you too. It's about that age-old writing advice we've all heard a million times: "Show, don't tell." Now, don't get me wrong – it's great advice, and it has its place in our writing toolbox. But here's the thing: it's not the be-all and end-all of good writing. In fact, I'd argue that sometimes, it's perfectly okay – even necessary – to tell rather than show.

First things first, let's address the elephant in the room. The "show, don't tell" rule has been drilled into our heads since we first picked up a pen (or opened a Word document) with the intention of writing creatively. It's been repeated in writing workshops, creative writing classes, and countless craft books. And for good reason! Showing can create vivid, immersive experiences for readers, allowing them to feel like they're right there in the story.

But here's where things get a bit tricky: like any rule in writing (or in life, for that matter), it's not absolute. There are times when telling is not just acceptable, but actually preferable. And that's what you all will explore today in this hopefully understandable blog post.

Let's start by breaking down why "show, don't tell" is so popular. When we show instead of tell, we're engaging the reader's senses and emotions. We're painting a picture with words, allowing the reader to draw their own conclusions based on the details we provide. It's a powerful technique that can make our writing more engaging and memorable.

For example, instead of saying "Sarah was angry," we might write, "Sarah's fists clenched at her sides, her jaw tight as she glared at the broken vase." This gives the reader a clearer image and allows them to infer Sarah's emotional state.

But here's the thing: sometimes, we don't need or want that level of detail. Sometimes, efficiency in storytelling is more important than painting an elaborate picture. And that's where telling comes in handy.

Imagine if every single emotion, action, or piece of information in your story was shown rather than told. Your novel would probably be thousands of pages long, and your readers might get lost in the sea of details, losing sight of the main plot or character arcs.

So, when might telling be more appropriate? Let's explore some scenarios:

Summarizing less important events: If you're writing a story that spans a long period, you don't need to show every single day or event. Telling can help you summarize periods of time or less crucial events quickly, allowing you to focus on the more important parts of your story.

For instance: "The next few weeks passed in a blur of exams and late-night study sessions." This sentence tells us what happened without going into unnecessary detail about each day.

Providing necessary background information: Sometimes, you need to give your readers some context or backstory. While you can certainly weave this information into scenes, there are times when a straightforward telling of facts is more efficient.

Example: "The war had been raging for three years before Sarah's village was attacked." This quickly gives us important context without needing to show the entire history of the war.

Establishing pace and rhythm: Alternating between showing and telling can help you control the pace of your story. Showing tends to slow things down, allowing readers to immerse themselves in a moment. Telling can speed things up, moving the story along more quickly when needed.

Clarifying complex ideas or emotions: Some concepts or feelings are abstract or complex enough that showing alone might not suffice. In these cases, a bit of telling can help ensure your readers understand what's happening.

For example: "The quantum entanglement theory had always fascinated John, but explaining it to others often left him feeling frustrated and misunderstood." Here, we're telling the reader about John's relationship with this complex scientific concept, which might be difficult to show effectively.

Maintaining your narrative voice: Sometimes, telling is simply more in line with your narrative voice or the tone of your story. This is especially true if you're writing in a more direct or conversational style.

Now, I can almost hear some of you saying, "But wait! I've always been told that showing is always better!" And I completely get it. I'm a writer myself and prioritize "Show, Don't tell." in my writing all the time. We've been conditioned to believe that showing is superior in all cases. But we can take a moment to challenge that notion.

Think about some of your favorite books. Chances are, they use a mix of showing and telling. Even the most critically acclaimed authors don't adhere strictly to "show, don't tell" all the time. They understand that good writing is about balance and knowing when to use each technique effectively.

Take, for instance, the opening line of George Orwell's "1984": "It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen." This is a perfect blend of showing and telling. Orwell shows us it's a bright, cold day (we can imagine the crisp air and clear sky), but he tells us about the clocks striking thirteen. This immediate telling gives us crucial information about the world we're entering – it's not quite like our own.

Or consider this passage from Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice": "Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife understand his character." Here, Austen is clearly telling us about Mr. Bennet's character rather than showing it through his actions. And yet, it works beautifully, giving us a quick, clear insight into both Mr. Bennet and his wife.

The key is to use both techniques strategically. So, how can you decide when to show and when to tell? Here are some tips:

Consider the importance of the information: Is this a crucial moment in your story, a pivotal emotion, or a key piece of character development? If so, it might be worth showing. If it's more of a transitional moment or background information, telling might be more appropriate.

Think about pacing: If you want to slow down and really immerse your reader in a moment, show it. If you need to move things along more quickly, tell it.

Evaluate the complexity: If you're dealing with a complex emotion or concept, consider whether showing alone will be enough to convey it clearly. Sometimes, a combination of showing and telling works best for complex ideas.

Consider your word count: If you're working with strict word count limitations (like in short stories or flash fiction), telling can help you convey necessary information more concisely.

Trust your instincts (Important): As you write more, you'll develop a feel for when showing or telling works better. Trust your gut, and don't be afraid to experiment.

Now, let's talk about how to tell effectively when you do choose to use it. Because here's the thing: telling doesn't have to be boring or flat. It can be just as engaging and stylish as showing when done well. Here are some tips for effective telling:

Use strong, specific language: Instead of using vague or generic words, opt for more specific, evocative language. For example, instead of "She was sad," you might write, "A profound melancholy settled over her."

Incorporate sensory details: Even when telling, you can include sensory information to make it more vivid. "The room was cold" becomes more engaging as "A bone-chilling cold permeated the room."

Use metaphors and similes: These can help make your telling more colorful and memorable. "His anger was like a volcano ready to erupt" paints a vivid picture without showing the anger in action.

Keep it concise: One of the advantages of telling is its efficiency. Don't negate that by being overly wordy. Get to the point, but do it with style.

Vary your sentence structure: Mix short, punchy sentences with longer, more flowing ones to create rhythm and maintain interest.

Remember, the goal is to create a seamless narrative that engages your reader. Sometimes that means showing, sometimes it means telling, and often it means a artful blend of both.

It's also worth noting that different genres and styles of writing may lean more heavily on one technique or the other. Literary fiction often employs more showing, delving deep into characters' psyches and painting elaborate scenes. Genre fiction, on the other hand, might use more telling to keep the plot moving at a brisker pace. Neither approach is inherently better – it all depends on what works best for your story and your style.

Now, I want to address something that I think many of us struggle with: the guilt or anxiety we might feel when we catch ourselves telling instead of showing. It's easy to fall into the trap of second-guessing every sentence, wondering if we should be showing more. But here's the truth: that kind of constant self-doubt can be paralyzing and ultimately detrimental to your writing process.

So, I want you to understand and think: It's okay to tell sometimes. You're not a bad writer for using telling in your work. In fact, knowing when and how to use telling effectively is a sign of a skilled writer.

Here's some practical ways to incorporate this mindset into your writing process:

First Draft Freedom: When you're writing your first draft, give yourself permission to write however it comes out. If that means more telling than showing, that's absolutely fine. The important thing is to get the story down. You can always revise and add more "showing" elements later if needed.

Revision with Purpose: When you're revising, don't automatically change every instance of telling to showing. Instead, ask yourself: Does this serve the story better as telling or showing? Consider the pacing, the importance of the information, and how it fits into the overall narrative.

Beta Readers and Feedback: When you're getting feedback on your work, pay attention to how readers respond to different sections. If they're engaged and understanding the story, then your balance of showing and telling is probably working well, regardless of which technique you're using more.

Study Your Favorite Authors: Take some time to analyze how your favorite writers use showing and telling. You might be surprised to find more instances of effective telling than you expected.

Practice Both Techniques (Important): Set aside some time to practice both showing and telling. Write the same scene twice, once focusing on showing and once on telling. This can help you develop a feel for when each technique is most effective.

Now, let's address another important point: the evolution of writing styles and reader preferences. The "show, don't tell" rule gained popularity in the early 20th century with the rise of modernist literature. But writing styles and reader tastes have continued to evolve since then.

In our current fast-paced world, where people are often reading on devices and in shorter bursts, there's sometimes a preference for more direct, efficient storytelling. This doesn't mean that showing is out of style, but it does mean that there's often room for more telling than strict adherence to "show, don't tell" would allow.

Moreover, diverse voices in literature are challenging traditional Western writing norms, including the emphasis on showing over telling. Some cultures have strong storytelling traditions that lean more heavily on telling, and as the literary world becomes more inclusive, we're seeing a beautiful variety of styles that blend showing and telling in new and exciting ways.

This brings me to an important point: your voice matters. Your unique way of telling stories is valuable. Don't let rigid adherence to any writing rule, including "show, don't tell," stifle your natural voice or the story you want to tell.

Remember, rules in writing are more like guidelines. They're tools to help us improve our craft, not unbreakable laws. The most important rule is to engage your reader and tell your story effectively. If that means more telling than the conventional wisdom suggests, then so be it.

As I wrap up this discussion, I want to leave you with a challenge: In your next writing session, consciously use both showing and telling. Pay attention to how each technique feels, how it serves your story, and how it affects the rhythm of your writing. You might discover new ways to blend these techniques that work perfectly for your unique style.

Writing is an art, not a science. There's no perfect formula, no one-size-fits-all approach. It's about finding what works for you, your story, and your readers. So embrace both showing and telling. Use them as the powerful tools they are, and don't be afraid to break the "rules" when your instincts tell you to.

Remember, every great writer started where you are now, learning the rules and then figuring out when and how to break them effectively. You're part of a long, proud tradition of storytellers, each finding their own path through the winding forest of words.

Keep writing, keep growing, and keep believing in yourself. You've got this!

Happy writing! 💖✍️ - Rin T.

Before you go, why not join us at The Write Right Society? We're a supportive Tumblr community where writers lift each other up. Whether you're a newbie or a pro, we'd love to have you! Share your work, get feedback, and connect with fellow wordsmiths, writers and aspiring authors. 

[lovscb97]

railway (b.cc.) ༉‧₊˚.

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ TRACK 001: part of the step out series

synopsis: you didn’t mean to get tied up with your best friend’s ex-boyfriend, but sometimes all you can do is hold on tight for the rough ride ahead of you, even if it means going against all the pre-written rules of friendship.

tags: best friend's ex!bangchan x fem!reader, angst, forbidden romance, mutually toxic relationship, morally grey characters, chan and reader are both kind of awful, mention of other idols (rest of stray kids, stayc, enhypen, etc), oc as chan's ex-girlfriend (aeri), mentions of alcohol and drinking, kissing, use of nicknames (baby, darling, etc), very brief pussy slapping, possessiveness, mild dacryphilia, car sex, fingering, sir kink, squirting, jealousy, slight exhibitionism, bathroom sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, degradation (bitch, slut, etc), dirty talk, very brief mention of strength kink, mirror sex, breeding kink, creampie, brief choking, slight overstimulation, etc

theme board: www.pin.1003 / song link: prod:b.cc

wc: 7.85k

add. notes: welcome 2 the first course >:] i've offered my insights n analysis on railway alr but delving into the meaning of the song n creating a whole fic based off of it was very intriguing for me esp cus i don't usually write based off of music i listen to. i knew i wanted smth wrong to put out but i don't like infidelity n the usual story on toxic situations is tough to pull of so i decided to go down the more 'scandalous' route of sorts n make chan ur best friend's ex instead :3 there's a pinterest board i made for all these fics which for this one u can find linked above to grasp the aesthetics of it n i'd recommend reading this while listening to railway ofc. as always plz make sure u watch out for the tags n dni if ur a minor. also sidenote but aeri (the oc) is not meant to be seen as giselle from aespa but rather i just used that name bcs it's pretty lol just thought i'd lyk that. either way i hope u all enjoy! 

. . .

19:23 PM from: dni!!! Wyd? 

you swallow thickly at the sight of the text which lights up your screen, eyes zeroed in on the simple three letters which still hold thousands of words worth of meaning in themselves when combined. if it weren’t for the rubber case at the back, you reckon you would’ve dropped your phone with how instantly sweaty your palms become upon having received the message. the way you’re staring at your app, maybe even enough to bore holes into the words displayed back at you, doesn't go unnoticed either, and you barely manage to pocket the device as quick as you'd pulled it out just in time as your best friend approaches you. 

“everything okay? you look kinda pale.” aeri frowns once she’s in front of you, voice laced with concern so sweet that it almost makes bile rise up your throat as you attempt to lean back against jake’s kitchen counter to stabilise yourself. she doesn’t seem to buy the eventual shaky nodding of your head that you offer after realising she’d just asked you something that required an answer, but even if she wants to probe you further, she doesn’t, deciding to immerse you in conversation about something your other friends had told her; another one of her gossip sessions with yoon and jungwon, you presume.

her storytelling fades into background noise at some point, for you can’t ignore the heavy weight of the object tucked away in the back of your skirt pocket, still incessantly burning and buzzing with notifications you know you shouldn’t pay half a mind to. you’re well aware that they’re all most likely from the same person; the one individual you shouldn’t and have no right to indulge and mix with to this day; whose bedsheets you’ve found yourself tangled up in late at night alongside dirty noises slipping past both your lips; the very man who remains as sin personified in the storyline of your current life, and honestly might stay that way for as long as you live.

or in other words, aeri’s ex-boyfriend, chan.

your best friend met chan in her final year of university, bumping into him on chance encounter outside her lecture hall and exchanging textbooks by accident. chan had been all smiles when she’d invited him to lunch as an apology for the mix up, often tagging along with her after that until soon enough, they grew close enough and began seeing each other romantically. he seemed to treat her well for the most part, and you were happy for aeri that she’d found a good man worth her time and effort in the world. she’d drag you with her on their outings one too many times, and you’d gotten to know him from those instances, finding him to be a decent match for her.

unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and the spark between them started dwindling. you’re not sure what exactly happened, only able to recall bits and pieces from what aeri had told you mid-sob on your calls about her previous lover slowly becoming distant nearing the final stages of their relationship, so you’ve always just thought it was a mutual decision to cut ties for the betterment of each other. according to her vividly detailed breakdowns though, chan had been the one to suggest calling it off first, and everything came to a screeching halt three years down the line with much screaming and tears from her side. to an extent, their split did shake up things a little between all your mutual friends, but it also didn’t fully stop everybody from engaging with each other. all this brings you to your current situation— waiting in jake’s apartment for the rest of your friends to arrive for a random party he’d decided to plan on a whim.

“yo, guys!” speak of the devil, you think, tugging yourself out of your thoughts as you turn your body to let jake’s figure come into view. he beams at you like a big puppy, his hair flopping in a way that loosely resembles dog ears, and you remember after a split second that that’s just how your friend is referred to as in your group; the resident golden retriever. he parades up to you and aeri as one too, his vibrant smile lighting up the atmosphere in a way that you can’t stop relief from flooding your system at his presence.

“how are my favourite girls doing this fine evening?” he smirks, his usual flirting the same as always, causing aeri to roll her eyes as you chuckle. “har har up yours, sim.” she sticks her tongue out, prompting jake to do the same as he ruffles her hair, to which she shrieks. “oh, by the way,” jake perks up as if he’s just thought of something, completely ignoring your best friend smacking him on the arm lightly over his actions. “y/n, would you be so kind as to get the pack of beer from my car?” he pleads, doe eyes twinkling under the light of the room. 

you’re about to groan in protest, not wanting to go back out in the cold and freeze your ass off for a measly few cans of alcohol, but the front door swinging open accompanied by the all too familiar voice you’ve grown acquainted to fills the air, making your stomach drop— chan. chan is here. suddenly, you’re not too opposed to getting far away, and you quickly nod your head rapidly in agreement, not bothering to wait for the way jake lights up at you accepting his proposal before snatching the keys from his hold and darting towards the lift. 

chan’s jaw tightens at this. he barely manages to catch a glimpse of you from how you rush out past him, not even able to take in your outfit or face in the dashing haze you leave in. he points his thumb to where you had exited, bluffing something about helping you when jake responds how you’d gone out to grab the load of drinks he’d been too lazy to heave upstairs himself. nobody makes any work to question him when he turns on his heel to catch the elevator himself, thinking nothing of his usual gentleman-like behaviour.

nobody except for a pair of eyes lingering on his disappearing frame that neither one of the visitors in the house manages to grasp onto.

meanwhile, you quickly find yourself in the outdoor parking lot of jake’s building, hugging your shivering body tightly in an effort to warm yourself up against the chilling wind that blows past the trees. the sky has basically turned dark by now, but the streetlamps hanging overhead on the sides of the pavement serve as enough illumination to carry out your task. your breath comes out in heavy smoke to the point you can see it, and you try your best to spot your friend’s car as soon as possible, cheering internally when you manage to do so. after having jogged on over to it, you enter the key into the trunk lock with trembling fingers, twisting it until that same latch you’ve grown used to feeling with your own vehicle opens and makes way for you to push up the boot lid. 

you’re about to hook underneath to manoeuvre it open, that is, until a sudden cold hand tugs on the bare skin of your arm, making you jump out of your own flesh. you open your mouth to yell out loud, ready to alert your friends a few floors upstairs that someone is trying to kidnap you potentially when that same hand clamps over it. only when your vision stabilises in your dimly lit surroundings do you recognise chan in front of you, and you feel your shoulders physically drop as you put down your defences, glaring at him when he removes himself.

“why the hell would you sneak up on me like that? i—“

“are you avoiding me?”

his question comes out gruff and annoyed, causing you to blink at the way he’s glowering at you in suspicion. his arms are crossed against his chest, hiding the black button-up you’ve seen him wearing and committed to memory one too many times from how it clings perfectly onto his chiselled shoulders and biceps. it makes you gulp, but you attempt to hide your affected reaction anyways, delivering a scoff in his direction which only makes chan grit his teeth at your attitude. “so what if i am? you know damn well either way without needing me to spell it out for you.” you bite back, moving to turn around when he catches you by the elbow, leaving you to scowl at him.

“what’s gotten into you? just a few days ago, we were fine, yet now you’re ignoring my texts?” he narrows his eyes, holding you in place so you can’t budge away from him. you let out a faint tch at his words, more so at your own susceptibility to succumb to his advances, but chan tongues the side of his cheek after assuming you’re just being blatantly disrespectful towards him. his voice drops to a lower, seductive tone as he speaks up again. “need me to remind you again? you came over last saturday and humped my thigh before squirting on my tong— hmph!“ 

“god, yes, i fucking remember, okay?” you exclaim in a whisper after having slapped a hand over his mouth this time, eyes darting around frantically to make sure no one heard that. “could you be any more louder? jesus christ.” chan peels you off of him shortly afterwards, his expression souring at the way you address him. something about the anger in his features makes your own rise, and you feel any or all remorse you'd experienced prior to seeing him in person today vanish, replaced with a bubbling hatred of sorts.

you and chan began your weird affiliation with one another around two months ago, exactly a few days after he and your best friend broke up. to this day, you don’t know why he made a move on you, much less why you yourself reciprocated it. sure, you’d always found him objectively attractive when he and aeri were together, and while he may be your exact match of an ideal type to a tee, you would never think to act on the growing tension you experienced for him, especially when he was in a long term commitment with the closest person in the world to you. 

it all happened in the most random of occurrences too. you still remember meeting him the night you were out at the convenience store to run errands, catching him hunched over a table in a hoodie and messy hair with two bottles of soju in front. he’d flashed you a polite smile and offered to drink together, which realistically, you should’ve declined. you should’ve turned the other way in disgust and walked out on him to tell your best friend what he’d attempted to do, regardless of whether that would’ve led to something or not. instead, you found yourself in his bed that day, moaning his name as he ravished you under the moonlight streaming through his curtains in your combined drunken craze.

the next morning had been full of hiccuped cries, chan cradling you in his arms despite the scalding touch of his hold gnashing against you and leaving metaphorical imprints that you would never be able to scrub off. each time he soothed you, rubbing your back and kissing your hair, you felt the waves of guilt wash over harsher than the last. he continued to reassure you throughout anyways, telling you it’d be okay and that no one would have to know. blindly, you’d believed him, promising yourself and him to never act on either of your arbitrary lust by not letting go of your inhibitions.

that was the first lie you told yourself. 

“y’know, i’m really not a fan of this whole backtalk towards me.” chan criticises, and you laugh bitterly after picking up on his audible disappointment as it hits your ears. “see? there it is again. maybe i’ve gotta teach you some manners, hm?” his tone is sultry once more, leaving you fighting the urge to flush under his gaze. you ultimately lose though, wanting nothing more than to punch him in the face with the way he snickers at your cheeks reddening crimson. instead, you try retain the little dignity you have left as you push against his chest, scanning your parameters with paranoia when he steps closer to you.

“we can’t.” you mumble, clearly slipping. chan’s only response to that is a breathless huff, warm against your face as you peer up at him through your lashes, finally getting a good look at him. he’s wearing his signature hoop earrings today, hair brushed down so his bangs fall over his forehead. the collar of that same dress shirt he’s got on is popped despite a few buttons being undone, leaving the styling choice to highlight his collarbone. that same milky skin you’ve ghosted your nails over multiple times hides underneath the black fabric, leaving you to shiver at the memories of it. it also doesn’t help that the way he towers you is sending your mind reeling into submission way too easily, and you only manage to shake out of it when his fingers trail down to wrap around your wrist, allowing you to feel the cold metal of a ring you recognise all too well press into your joint—

the same half of a promise ring you’d helped him pick out for aeri a year ago.

the realisation that he’s still wearing it hits, and combined with the once again forming shame in the back of your head, it all makes you want to shove him away in favour of storming out of here to tell your best friend everything once and for all. a part of you can sense undue jealousy simmering inside at the fact that he’s still got a piece of her with him too, something you know you have no right to feel, but you try ignore it to your best ability. “chan, we can’t.” you repeat with a hitch in your breath, more so for yourself than him. and yet, you don’t even believe your own words, finding the less rational and weak side of you surrendering to the temptation chan tantalises in you; it overshadows whatever morality you have left.

“d’you really want me to stop?” he breathes out, body sagging far too close into yours for it to be friendly, although you suppose none of your interactions since starting this scandalous relationship have ever been that. his fingers, the very same ones bearing the ring on them, move to wrap around your throat, forcing you to tilt your head up and lock eyes with him. goosebumps prick your skin when you catch sight of the way his gaze is hooded, orbs swirling with black desire he’s begun to reserve only for you in these coming weeks. “because, if you want me to stop, i will.” chan points out. “say the word and i’ll turn around. out of sight, out of mind.” he makes a statement out of it by retracting his hand from you, but the very distinct whine you let out is all the confirmation he needs to press his mouth to yours.

kissing chan always feels like playing with fire. it scorches, and singes, and sears, reducing you to a burnt crisp, yet you can’t help but yearn for the flame he ignites in you. even the way he’s clutching onto you now, pressing forward with a fervour only you bring out in him, has his lips moulding against your cherry stained ones despite not fitting as perfectly as you’d want them to. the two of you are by no means a compatible match for each other; neither of you has made a single good decision ever since you began indulging in whatever you’ve got going on, but you also can’t help but crave the scandalous nature of everything. you’re truly a despicable pair, you think.

“get in the car.” chan’s voice cuts through your thoughts when he pulls away. he doesn’t even give you time to think when he walks over and opens the door, gesturing inside to the warm confines of the backseat. ideally, you shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but alas, you’ve never been one to listen to yourself, instead finding your legs scrambling and following suit to shuffle into jake’s vehicle before the weight of your actions even sinks in. chan’s hot on your trail too, and before you can even get comfortable in the cramped space, he’s returning to making out with you, fingers roaming greedily around the expanse of your skin. 

“t-they’ll know we’re gone.” you stutter, moving your face out of his reach to try and stop chan’s movements when it finally dawns on you that your friends had sent you out on an errand you’d taken far too long to complete by now. chan’s only response is to grunt though, tugging you back in for another smouldering kiss that knocks the wind out of your lungs. his hands grasp, pinch, and squeeze whatever part of you they can, until he’s finally decided that he’s had enough foreplay, opting to cage you underneath him and hike up the tight, red dress that’s adorning your body for today’s occasion. “i’ll be quick. i always am.” he winks, and you’re too far gone now to understand that he’s responding to your previous comment, a fact that only makes him chuckle.

“wore this to tease me, yeah?” chan clicks his tongue at the way he has to practically peel off the bottom half of your clothing, the snug fit of the fabric around your curves leaving nothing to the imagination as he bites his lip. he debates whether he’s glad you chose this outfit to show off for him, or if that pisses him off because it means everybody gets an eyeful of your figure; he decides on the latter. “wanted to slut yourself out for my attention? all you had to do was ask, baby.” you shake your head with a whimper, and he raises an eyebrow at your reaction. “d-didn’t.. didn’t wear it for you.” you manage to breathe out, which proves to be the wrong answer because next thing you know, his hand is coming down to smack your clothed core.

you yelp at the sting of his actions, teary eyes blinking up at him in a way that makes chan’s boxers tighten. he’s so close to losing his composure, but he holds back for your sake, not wanting to let you see his cool slip. “is that so? i guess you’re just a dirty girl then.” he sneers, yanking down your soaked panties in one swift motion, leaving you to gasp as the cool air hits your sticky folds.

chan wastes not even one second, knobby digits dragging through the wetness he’s not surprised to find whatsoever. he spreads it over your clit, getting you messier than you already are, especially from the way you appear to leak even more arousal from his movements. he touches you until you’re twitching under his hold, biting back the sounds that threaten to escape you, which seems to be a fact he doesn’t approve of from the way he pinches your nub between his fingers; you cry out softly from the rush of stimulation it shoots through you. “eyes on me.” chan growls, sliding his hand down to circle your oozing hole before he’s abruptly shoving two fingers inside.

“fuck.” you moan this time, loud and clear. this seems to satisfy him, seeing as he rewards you with a steady pump of his digits thrusting into your heat. his speed in fingering you increases quickly, and it isn’t long before he’s scissoring you open, the sloppy sounds of your juices slicking up his fingers and echoing in the stuffy space of jake’s car. you’re probably staining the leather of the seats, but neither you nor chan seem to care about that right now, not when he’s knuckle deep inside your wet cunt and you’re making such pretty noises all for him.

“just filthy, aren’t ya? getting finger fucked in the back of your friends car. i bet your dumb little brain can’t even understand what i’m saying right now.” chan mocks, his tone laced with a level of condescension that only makes you buck your hips up to chase his movements. you know he’s completely right too, because the way he’s thrusting his digits inside you, stroking your warm walls with the tips of them has you seeing stars to the point you can’t even respond back something snarky in return. “all you’re good for is being a nasty toy for sir’s use, hm?” you barely even register his question, only remembering you need to answer him when he pulls his wet hand away to smack you once more, this time over your swollen bundle of nerves.

“y-yes, sir. only a toy for you. jus’ you.” you mindlessly slur out, and chan groans at that. not even a moment passes before he’s sinking his fingers back inside you, curling them up to massage that rough spot which always has you clenching down on him. his expression twists to a smug one when you jerk forward instantly. bingo, he thinks. “that’s that spot there, yeah? the one that has you losing yourself on me?” he coos, but his voice drips with a smidge of venom you can’t quite fixate on just yet. instead, you nod dumbly, spasming around him as you try grind upwards to chase the rising sensation of your climax. 

chan leans into your frame, one hand splayed flat onto jake’s backseat above your head to maintain his balance whilst his body hovers over you. by now, your eyes are clenched shut, but he can’t even find it in him to get mad at you over that, not when you’re dribbling down his wrist and mewling so pretty under the glow of the night as he works you towards your orgasm. “c’mon, baby. cum f’me. wanna see you cum so pretty for sir.” he encourages, jaw locked with concentration. 

it only takes about one or two flicks of his expertly trained thumb pressing on your puffy clit, combined with the pads of his fingers hitting your g-spot with terrifying accuracy, before you’re shuddering through your climax. a small, clear stream of liquid sprays out the sides of where he’s got you plugged up, and he pulls his hand away in favour of rubbing you over to coax out the last remnants of your high. your quivering body thrashes when he tries to draw out the remaining few droplets again, weakly bringing your arm up to push him away gently when the shocks of overstimulation begin to take over. chan dips down to place one, final kiss on your lips, smooching down to your chin as a way to say you did well. his actions make you heart beat out of your chest, but you don’t say anything about the domesticity of them. 

you wonder if he ever treated aeri like this after having been intimate with her.

“go in first. i’ll clean up the car.” chan clears his throat after a short while, not daring to make eye contact with you as he quietly pulls your underwear back up your legs. you watch in silence while he sits up, looking for a rag to fix the mess you two made when that same awkward air you’ve gotten used to facing with him enters the atmosphere, leaving you to try and ignore how it tugs at the strings of your soul as you give a curt nod. “don’t forget the beer.” you remind him before swinging the door open to step outside, finding yourself back in the nipping cold of the winter night.

you try and stand on your wobbly legs to straighten out the creases of your dress, paying no mind to the way your skin echoes with the ghost of chan’s previous touch. behind you, you can hear him rolling down the windows to let the musky smell of sex out of jake’s backseat, and you almost dare to sneak a glance back until deciding against it, knowing it’ll just hurt more. instead, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, opening them to land on the small balcony of your friend’s apartment where the rest of your group seems to have already gathered from the silhouettes you can see through the foggy glass. your conscience feels heavy with the weight of the knowledge that aeri is up there too, but you brush it off, just like all the other times you have.

i didn’t do anything wrong, you tell yourself, i’m still in the clear. that’s the second lie you’ve tried to believe in these last two months. a long sigh escapes your lips at that realisation, but you bite it down when making your way back inside the building, choosing to rack your brain on what shitty excuse you’ll have to provide this time for being gone so long.

. . .

to your surprise, nobody bothers to question why either you or chan disappeared, simply whisking you back in conversation about unrelated topics when you walk in through the door a few minutes before him. as per usual, your heart still feels heavy when you watch aeri laugh at something heeseung and sieun are arguing over, but you cover it up by letting out a noise of amusement yourself, hoping it throws off any suspicion that might be directed your way. you don’t bother turning your head upon hearing jake’s delight at the sight of chan entering his apartment with the very much requested pack of beer too, deciding to force a smile at whatever point heeseung is busy making over looking back no matter how much your body itches to do so.

it’s even worse how from the corner of your eye, you can see aeri shifting uncomfortably on her feet at her ex-boyfriend’s second arrival, her expression dropping in the slightest so as to not draw attention to herself, but it’s still enough for you to notice. it only makes the weight of your actions dawn on you further, and you can’t help but let your mind wander as to what she’d say if she knew what truly went on behind closed doors. despite your best efforts to bury those thoughts beneath you though, you know there’s nothing you can do to make amends to the problems you’ve created yourself. after all, you’ve got to reap what you sow.

the party continues to kick in on full swing after that, with you and aeri both doing your best to keep your distances from chan for all too different reasons. it doesn’t help that you can feel someone’s stare raking across your figure throughout the duration of the evening, and when you finally do decide to sneak a glance in that direction with expectations of finding chan ogling you over, you’re met with a different answer—

for it isn’t you he’s busy looking at, but rather your best friend that’s been glued to your side since the beginning of the night. 

he averts his gaze as quick as he’d cast it when you catch him, seamlessly blending back in discussion with whatever nonsense changbin is rambling about this time, acting like he hadn’t just been getting an eyeful of his ex-girlfriend moments prior. you also don’t miss how he fiddles with the old ring that adorns his right hand, long fingers twisting it around the middle digit in a way that’s reminiscent of his past behaviour, or at least based on what you’d often find him doing back then. 

his actions spark a memory deep from the confines of your brain, one you wish you hadn’t remembered as the vision of chan asking you to help pick out promise rings for him and aeri crosses your mind. it was raining heavily that day, but he’d insisted that the two of you go out in secret anyways so he could buy his then girlfriend a token of his love and appreciation. he’d claimed you knew her taste the best and could therefore help in selecting a better possible gift for their upcoming anniversary than he ever could. 

you’d hesitantly agreed, and although you weren’t sure how it would all play out, you later found yourself sharing an umbrella and visiting various jewellery stores to point out all the designs you knew your closest friend would adore. chan had settled soon on a matching pair for the two of them, beaming in your direction with a bright smile that left you weak in the knees despite however much you tried to hide it. a few days later, aeri excitedly showed off her own silver band to you, buzzing about how he’d chosen the perfect present that she couldn’t wait to replace with a real one in their future; you couldn’t help then but think if he ever told her it was all your idea instead of his.

“hey, can you hold my phone?” your best friend’s voice cuts through your inner replay, and you blink in a daze to find her facing you, expression innocent. “hyunjin asked to play beer pong, and i don’t have any pockets to put it away in safely.” she explains at your confused face, but all you can do is nod as you robotically outstretch your arm to take it off of her. unfortunately or fortunately, that’s when you notice it—

the same matching ring on her hand.

aeri doesn’t pay you any attention when she drops off her device into your awaiting palm, not even realising you’re zeroed in on the jewellery that decorates her left hand with a fire burning in your eyes that you’re both ignorant of. you don’t stop gaping even when felix shakes your shoulder, asking you what you’re so fixated on before leaving you be under the impression that you’re probably just drunk out of your head. meanwhile, you’re still frozen in place, everything around you seeming to slow down.

why is chan wearing a ring he bought for his ex-girlfriend two years ago to a party he knows she’s going to be at? no, why does said ex-girlfriend also have her matching pair of the ring on her hand at a party she too is aware he’s going to be present for? much less, why are either of them hung up on each other to the point they’re carrying around reminders of their past relationship with one another? you know the answer to all these questions, but you don’t wish to sit and delve into them in fear you might throw up at the conclusion they’ll give you. instead, all you can do is squeeze the can of seltzer you’d spiked in your hand dangerously tight out of unwanted emotion, enough for some of the liquid inside to spill out. you can’t be bothered to care about it though, just like how you can’t be bothered to care about how anybody in their right mind could probably see you gawking at chan right now.

you watch as he cracks up at a joke seungmin makes, his head falling back in a fit of laughter you’ve been a happy witness or recipient of multiple times, yet this time it fills you with emotion that you don’t wish to identify in fear it’d mean something more than what you’re capable of confronting right now. even so, you can’t stop the train of questions invading your thoughts at the view in front of you. did he laugh like that with aeri? smile so wide with her? couldn’t help the joy that spread across due to her presence? maybe that’s why he came today, because he couldn’t take his mind off of her, especially seeing as he was wearing a symbol of their time spent before right now. 

but, what does that say about you in this picture? were you just a scapegoat to escape all those feelings for him? had you been one this entire time, only deluding yourself into thinking what you both had translated into a situation deeper and could potentially progress into one even more had things happened under different circumstances? the more you think, the more you feel nauseous, and you can’t stop yourself from diverting your gaze to where your best friend is, observing her concentrated face as she attempts to aim a ping pong ball into one of the lined up solo cups. your eyes involuntarily flicker to the ring on her finger once more, its evident shimmer reflecting in the light causing you to clutch your drink tighter. 

you’re not a jealous person by any means. you know your boundaries, hence you know chan isn’t yours. he isn’t an object you can own, and neither are you to him. that was the unspoken agreement you both nodded on when you got into this entire ordeal— you’re both free to see other people openly in front of aeri as long as it’s not each other, because the latter you manage in secret despite the shame that surges in you two upon doing so. it doesn’t matter if you wish to stake your claim on him, to see the marks you leave on him evident on his skin the next morning for him to show off other girls who think they stand a chance at him taking them to bed. it doesn’t matter how much your heart aches when you wake up to the blanket strewn aside from his absence, the sheets long gone cold to indicate that he’d left hours ago. it doesn’t matter how much you wish to cling onto his arm in public and profess your.. feelings for him in front of everyone else.

it simply doesn’t matter, it never did. chan’s never been yours, and he never will be anytime soon.

20:51 PM from: Myself meet me at the upstairs bathroom in five

you punch in the message before you can even think, watching it turn from delivered to read in a matter of seconds. the three dots next to chan’s side of texts appear, indicating that he’s typing, but you choose to lock your device rather than waiting like a dog to see him reply. instead, your feet lead you to your designated location, taking one step at a time leisurely as opposed to in a rush so as to not draw unwanted attention to yourself. right as you reach the door handle, your phone pings with a familiar ringtone.

20:52 PM from: dni!!! Reacted with “👍🏻” to your message

you sigh. tonight was going to be a long night.

. . .

skin slapping. heavy panting. low grunting. 

that’s all you can hear from where you’re splayed across the sink in the small confines of jake’s bathroom, aside from the occasional thumping of music booming from downstairs. if you strain your ear enough, you’ll be able to make out the lyrics to the cliche song that’s come up on shuffle, but you honestly lack the mentality to care about that right now, especially considering the way chan has your legs pushed apart in favour of drilling his length into you. each thrust is rapid and fervent in nature, seeming to knock the wind out of your lungs to the point you don’t even realise how loud you’re being until his hand comes up to shove two fingers in your mouth. “be fucking quiet.” he sneers, leaving you to drool everywhere. the only reaction he spares when you try muffle out an apology is a sickening smirk at that too. 

“needed this, didn’t you, slut? always need to be filled with some cock like a bitch in heat.” chan chuckles, but there’s a dark edge to his voice that sends shivers crawling up your spine. he presses down on your tongue with the pads of his fingers, and you can’t stop the garbling of spit choking past your lips from the way his thickness nestles deep inside you. each heavy drag of his dick against your rough walls leaves you clenching and attempting to buck your hips forward, but you can’t even manage that with the grip he has on your waist. the mere idea that all chan really needs to restrain you is the simple strength of his one hand sends your mind reeling, so much so that you don’t even realise he’s speaking to you until the hand that was previously in your mouth pulls out to slap light and wet against your cheek.

“i asked you a question, whore.” chan growls, the sound resonating warm within your stomach despite the mean undertone to it as his movements still. you blink up at him in confusion at this point, doe eyes brimming with tears that threaten to spill from the loss of pleasure in a way that has chan damn near finishing. it doesn’t help that he’s buried to the hilt currently, hissing painfully at how you squeeze down on him in involuntary instinct. for a split second, you swear you see the ridges on his face soften, and the manner in which he looms over you feels filled with more comfort than intimidation, but that smidge of emotion vanishes as soon as it arrives. “i said,” chan’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “do you wanna get caught?” you rapidly shake your head no at that, and chan cocks his head to the side.

“oh, really?” he muses, nails sliding over to dig into the supple flesh of your thigh, making you whine out loud. “‘cause with the way you’re making so much noise like that, i’d have assumed the opposite.” with a click of his tongue, his actions resume. luckily, all that escapes you is a loud gasp this time, an anxious clamp of your palm over your mouth barely covering up the rest of your lewdity. you wish so desperately to refute, to plead him in favour of slowing down and having some mercy, but the sensation of his bulbous cockhead slamming roughly into that one spot only sends stars in your vision and prevents your previous desires. 

your body jerks in chan’s hold even more when his same hand still lubed with your saliva finds it way between where you’re connected, leaving you to suppress a pathetic whimper that longs to bubble out of your throat as he presses the tips of his fingers to your swollen clit. his touch is harsh, filled with an overwhelming need to make you burst at the seams, but the fear that lingers in the back of your head refuses to let you fall apart so easily, not when aeri is barely a flight of stairs from your vicinity. chan decides he isn’t fond of the silence you’re giving him though, pulling out with a quiet mumble for you to get down and face the mirror. he sheaths himself back in just as quickly, setting an unforgiving pace from the seemingly more accessible position, and this time, you really can’t stop the long drawn out moan that escapes you. 

“j-just like that, yeah, baby? all those filthy noises are just for me, aren’t they?” he sounds more delirious this time, presumably drunk off the essence of this situation from the possessive gibberish he’s spouting, just like he always does in the heat of the moment. unfortunately for you, you’re no better than him, nodding furiously in agreement as you babble high-pitched and breathy. “so good, sir! s-so, so fucking good, feels so good! wan’ cum f’you, p-please. ‘m a good girl, please lemme cum, please, please, please.” small stutters spew out of you mid-sentence, but neither of you can be bothered by them, too wrapped up in the throes of all-consuming passion and contempt even to register what’s being said. 

“such a nasty, nasty girl.. getting fucked by your best friend’s ex. don’t you feel a-any shame?” chan groans almost wearily in midst of his lust-filled haze, eyes catching yours from the reflection of the mirror that’s displaying you getting absolutely wrecked right now. the sight of you so fucked up and in bliss, no coherent thought visible by the looks of your dazed expression and tongue halfway lolling out— it all has him burning with hot, rampant hunger. hunger for you, hunger to claim you. “look at yourself.” he rasps, fingers clutching at your chin to force you into meeting where he is. “look how dirty you are, fuck. what would she say about you wrapped so warm and snug around my cock? hm? think we should— ah. think we should call her in and find out?” 

the tears that were brewing in your waterline are streaming down your face by now, horrifically mimicking the disgusting manner in your wetness seeping and dripping down chan’s balls. you feel awful. downright terrible and tainted, forever branded by the searing touch of chan’s skin grazing against yours because that’s what you are, that’s what you have been for the past two months. down from the night you let him lead you into his sheets, following the countless occasions you found yourself returning there, and finally falling to now, your underwear strewn across the tiles of jake’s bathroom as you spread your legs for the same man who broke your best friend’s heart; the same man who you’ve let into yours after very consciously disregarding the repercussions of your actions. 

you’re truly a loathsome piece of work.

“think she’d like to watch me fill this pussy up? watch me shoot my load deep inside you over and over again until i’m sure it’s taken?” chan mutters, hot breath fanning against your sweaty neck. “maybe i should breed this stupid cunt full of my seed and send you back out there with it spilling past your legs. that way, every time you sit down, you’ll feel it inside you.” the mental image of his release lodged in your walls as you’re surrounded by all your friends, surrounded by the one person you’ve both been hiding from, all of them oblivious to the way he’s staked his claim on you except for the shared knowledge between you two and you two only— it has you quivering to the point you physically keen in his hold. chan, however, just laughs sadistically at your reaction. 

“you’ll feel it as a reminder of me, yeah? a reminder that you’re just as terrible as me. coming to me to get this slutty cunt stuffed even though you know you shouldn’t.” he continues to whisper. “after all, it takes two to tango, darling.” chan makes it a point to tilt his hips up in an effort to ensure his mushroom tip hits your g-spot with precise force, all the while breathlessly uttering more sickening words in your ear in hopes of fulfilling your need for relief. 

surely enough, the combination of his cock shoving itself past your opening and his guilt-inducing remarks that only make you sob harder work you up to the point of no return. all it really takes after that is one touch of his thumb to your pulsating nub to eventually have you seizing up in no time, your pussy messily tightening and gushing as your high crashes over you in large waves of ecstasy. it seems to trigger him too, because by the time you even realise you’re there, chan’s twitching and leaking spurts of thick cum inside you. there’s so much of it that it trickles past where he’s got you plugged up, and you barely comprehend yourself pushing a hand near your oozing hole to catch it on your fingertips. 

you both come to slowly, ragged breathing that fills the air growing quieter to pair with the musk of the room. chan’s gaze is still trained on you through the mirror, unreadable just like always whenever you’ve made the same mistake again, but you take the opportunity in this instance specifically to raise the hand that’s collected his seed in it to your mouth, proceeding to lick up the droplets of his excess release. even though you don’t catch his stare in the reflection, you can still feel it burning holes through your head, a fact that only leaves goosebumps rising over your skin. it’s only when you pull your hand away once more to catch the last of his remaining cum that he decides to finally interject, grabbing your palm in his coarse one with hooded eyes. they’re blown out when he tugs your back flush into his chest, the impact leaving his length pushing deeper inside, and they’re blown out when his fingers wrap around your neck to give it a slight squeeze, the little loss of oxygen making your mind spin.

“you think that’s funny? teasing me even after i just fucked you? after i left my mark on you and made sure you know that you’re mine?” chan murmurs, lips sultrily ghosting the shell of your ear. you want to fixate on what he’d addressed you as, let it marinate in your thoughts and brood over it for the next weeks to come even if it was just an absentminded slip of the mouth, but your focus is interrupted by the moving of his hips against yours picking up once more. the previously repeated actions send his dick driving into you again, breaching your cervix and pressing deliciously into every nook and cranny in a way that has you nearly losing your footing, but chan is quicker to hold you up with his free hand. “w-wait, ‘m still sensitive.” you manage to tremble out at a particularly well-placed graze of his cock, but chan doesn’t seem to care, grinding into you even more eagerly at your admission to the point you struggle to keep the sounds spilling out you at bay.

there’s a resounding knock on the door all of a sudden, one that makes your breath hitch and your chest twist in uneasiness. some part of you feels wary and on edge, and you would assume chan’s movements would halt at that, but he doesn’t show any signs of stopping, ignoring your frantic attempts to make him do so by holding you in place instead as he begins to pick up the pace. “s-stop, we’ll get caught.” you heave out upon the noise of skin slapping rising in volume. you do your best to stand your ground, to avoid the gradual closing of your eyes and the mushy fog of your brain clouding over in euphoria, but it’s to no avail. you’re about to let go of your inhibitions completely, to forget about what had just happened and throw caution into the wind in order to lose yourself in the moment, until—

“y/n, i know you’re in there with chris.”

. . .

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

© all rights reserved to @/lovscb97, do not plagiarise, translate, re-upload, etc 

[esote-rika]

not a mask, but a reflection | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Waldorf!Reader Category: idk hurt/comfort?? flangst? something like that, I'm sorry I truly don't know how to categorize this Summary: The BAU ladies insist on a makeover for Spencer, so you decide to indulge them by promising to take him shopping. It doesn't go as either of you expected, but it allows a chance for the two of you to form a deeper bond. Content: reader’s outfit is described, reader is based on Blair Waldorf in background, and personality– so you're rich!! and fashionable!! And snarky, but in a ride or die sunshine x sunshine protector kind of way, early season 2 glasses!Spencer crushing on reader, implied autistic Spencer, brief mention of his bullying, lots of dialogue!!! especially about fashion advice (PSA to wear whatever you want!!) Word count: 2.8k A/N: I'm back on my Blair Waldorf-reader agenda. I'm mainly writing these because of my own crackship, but I tried very hard not to describe any specific appearance stuff for the reader (aside from what ur wearing) so it’s as immersive and universal as possible! Styling in film and TV fascinates me and I wanted to explore Spencer’s character through clothes. ALSO! I incorporate a Blair Waldorf quote into the conversation that goes “Fashion is the most powerful art there is. It’s movement, design, and architecture all in one. It shows the world who we are and who we’d like to be.” pls know I didn't come up with it, the Gossip Girl writers did. It's from S4E13 specifically. PART TWO

Saturdays are usually meant for curling up on his couch to read his favorite books, or marathon obscure foreign films. Alone, always alone, Spencer Reid has grown used to the feeling; accepted it, enjoyed it, even. He wouldn’t have survived all these years if he didn't appreciate his own company, after all. 

However, today is different. He’s expecting company, which is unusual enough, but he’s expecting you of all people. And it’s for such a silly thing too— a makeover. Something straight out of a cliche high school movie. It had started at work, during a case, a passing comment made by one of the people being interviewed. Something about looking like he’s playing dress up, spoken so softly he’d been willing to pretend to ignore it. 

But you heard it, had snapped at the man in annoyance about respect and propriety. At the jet, you had snapped at him about wearing clothes that fit better, and of course Morgan and JJ had to get involved, and Garcia squealed about a makeover over the phone. He hadn’t expected you to accept; when you did, he considered several ways to get out of it: pretend to have a date (implausible), pretend to get sick, just don’t show up. But then you said you’ll meet him at his apartment and his world seemed to come crashing down.

“I need to see what I'm working with before I dive headfirst into this,” was your reply when he protested. It makes sense, of course, but he's not happy about accepting you into his space. It's curated for him and his comfort, and he dreads the idea of casting your shrewd, critical gaze over his design choices. If he's less of a coward, he would admit that a small part of him desires your approval. Craves it, needs it, so much it makes his skin crawl.

So that’s why his Saturday morning is spent cleaning; straightening books, hiding the case files strewn about. He doesn’t want to give you any ammunition to tease him with. Having to undergo a makeover is embarrassing enough.

It reeks of bleach when he opens the door for you. The wrinkle of your nose has no business being so cute when it's obviously done to express disgust.

“What is that smell?”

“Hello to you too,” he can't keep the sarcasm from his tone as he steps aside. 

You saunter in heels even though this is meant to be a casual get together. They click against his hardwood floors until you reach his rug, the thick fabric dulling out the noise. “Did you bleach your entire place?” 

His expression is sheepish as he closes the door, “I figured I'd clean.”

“You sure you're not hiding a murdered body in here?” you walk straight into the middle of his apartment and look around. He winces as he waits for your verdict.

“I’m not, I just - you’re so -”

“I’m so?”

“Particular.” I don’t want to disappoint you, but he clamps his mouth shut before the words escape. Having you come in for a makeover already isn’t doing anything for his confidence. In fact, it just confirms his suspicions. Something is wrong with him, despite all the attempts at propriety and flattery otherwise. The BAU sees it, you see it, and you’re here to fix it. He swallows the lump in his throat, and with it, his pride and the tiny hint of resentment. 

You are trying to help, he reminds himself. 

Maybe it’s his hopeless optimism, maybe it’s desperation to seem normal for once, but it’s enough to surrender to your knowledgeable hands. 

He lets his eyes take you in, allows himself a moment to linger on the details of your ensemble. The picture of coordination, as usual; shoes and bag the same shade of rich brown, the barrettes in your hair matching the pale blue trimming along the edges of the sundress you’re wearing. This is you dressed down, he knows, but somehow you manage to outdress him. 

“I’m not even going to ask what you mean by that,” your eyes roll, before landing to one of the doors in his apartment, “Where’s your bedroom?”

He sputters, “My - uh, why?”

“I’m assuming that’s where you keep your clothes?” You look at him like he’s dumb, and he turns bright pink. “I told you, I can’t take you shopping before I see what you already own.”

He can’t believe he fully didn’t realize it meant letting you into his bedroom. But then again, his brain has the tendency to turn to mush when he’s speaking with you. “Right,” he nods, scrambling to his bedroom. All of his anxieties about his living room and the overwhelming amount of books seem distant now; you hadn’t even commented on them. Instead, this new one arises, bubbles in his stomach. Showing you his bedroom is so much more intimate. The space he sleeps in, where he’s most vulnerable.

A space no other woman has ever even seen. 

He feels your presence behind him, smells the distinct loveliness of the perfume you like to call your signature scent. Of course you don’t ask for permission. He’s found quickly that you’re used to taking and having what you want, used to the world yielding to you instead of the other way around. 

Your heels make sharp taps against the floor. Combined with your perfume, it’s already obvious that you’re making your mark in his room, his haven. He imagines the fragrance will linger when you leave, and it makes his ears burn with a longing that knocks the wind from his chest. The door remains open, and he’s thankful that he isn’t completely caged in his bedroom with you. 

“Here’s my, uh, where I keep my clothes.” he hastily opens his closet, relief flooding his body as he sees it’s not that messy. Everything is ironed and pressed, although some of his sweaters are haphazardly piled together. He hopes he won’t have to show you the mess that is his sock drawer. 

You step up beside him, bare arm brushing against his. Brows furrowed in concentration as you rifle through his clothes. He steps back to give you more room to work with, although it’s more for his sake than yours. Your proximity is making him a little dizzy. He finds himself slumping on his bed, watching your movements. You’re approaching the task at hand with the same meticulous acuity as you would in a crime scene. Focused. Detail oriented, even when doing something so insignificant.

He’s not sure what to expect. He’s bought his clothes based on what he sees other men wear, relying on his observation skills, and the clothing guidelines given by HR to deduce what is considered appropriate. His father wore dress shirts a lot, back when his family was still intact. Hotch and Morgan wear suits, but those have always felt too formal to use on a daily basis. He opts for cardigans and sweater vests to keep him warm instead, because they’re softer, less restrictive. They remind him of Diana, the things she would wear back when she could still teach. He hopes you don’t make him get rid of them.

“You wear a lot of light browns,” your voice lifts him out of his anxious stupor, “You have to give that up.” 

He frowns in confusion, “What’s wrong with wearing light brown?”

“You’re too pale, they make you look even more sickly. But if you must wear brown, lean into this shade instead,��� you hold up a dark brown blazer that he actually really likes. He smiles, happy that it got your seal of approval. You turn to him, eyes narrowed, “And your dress shirts are too big, look at where the shoulder seam falls.” 

He blinks in surprise as your hand comes to touch an inch past the edge of his shoulder, pinching the fabric, “It should be up here. You’re too slim for an oversized look, it just swamps your frame. If you’re going to be wearing them, they have to fit you better.” 

He nods, feeling a little out of his depth, “How do you know all of this?”

“Years of consuming Cosmopolitan and Vogue.” You turn back to the closet, he frowns slightly. The words mean nothing to him, and he flinches when he hears you sigh.

“Fashion magazines?” you prompt, glancing back over your shoulder.

“Ah,” He nods, lips pursed, “I can't say those are on my reading lists.”

“Obviously not, otherwise you'd know not to wear,” You gesture at his entire ensemble, nose wrinkling once again, “This.”

It doesn’t really occur to him what the problem is as he looks down at his checked button down. “It’s a nice shirt.” he says, although he can see your point now; it’s too big. 

“Reid, you look like you’re about to start proselytizing about our lord and saviour Jesus Christ.” you say, stepping away from his wardrobe and stopping in front of him. 

Your teasing makes his cheeks burn. Or maybe it’s your sudden closeness, your hands at his buttons, “Um, what–” he’s stiff, memories rushing of being held down, clothes forcibly ripped—

“Relax,” you step back after undoing the top button. The annoyed scoff surprisingly gives him some comfort, reminds him it’s you, he’s here with you, “There, that’s better. Don’t button it up all the way.”

“Why not?”

“I told you, it makes you look like you’re cosplaying a minister.” He shifts under your gaze, feeling exposed, even though he’s fully dressed. But that’s exactly what you’re judging, after all, his clothes. There’s nowhere to hide. “Why are you so tense, Reid? It’s not going to make you look like a fool, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Why? Where does he even begin? The fact that he’s never had a woman in his room before, and it’s making him feel like he’s about to implode? His memories of being stripped naked for all the school to see, humiliated, fueling the irrational fear of letting go of his clothes, the things he’s comfortable wearing. And for what? In order to be fashionable? To seem normal, to be fixed? 

He settles for a half truth, the words mumbled and embarrassed, “I like my clothes.”

To his surprise, your eyes soften, “Okay. And?”

“I like how I dress.”

“You don’t want to change your style?”

He looks down and shakes his head, feeling a little silly. How can he explain it to someone like you, who probably would have been one of his tormentors when he was back in school? It’s sick, this desire to be close to you, to be accepted by you as though being in your orbit would lessen his eccentricity. He thought he’d left it behind in high school, had grown out of it, but it’s there, recognizable and refusing to let him rest. 

“You know you didn’t have to say yes to this,” the bed dips as you sit beside him, “It was a silly thing the girls and I thought would be fun, but if it’s making you uncomfortable, I’ll stop and we could just, I dunno, go for ice cream instead.”

“No, I - I do, I just… don’t want to change completely.” It's almost pathetic how something as simple as clothes is making him spiral, “I like how I dress, even if you guys make fun of it. It’s comfortable. I get really cold hands, and the sweaters help, and - and the satchel is convenient even if you say it clashes with my outfits or whatever.”

Your hand rests on his forearm, and his rambling halts immediately.

“Then I won’t stop you from wearing grandpa-chic,” the lightness in your voice makes him smile, “This is why I wanted to see what you had. I wasn’t about to start from scratch, and there’s obviously a reason you gravitated towards these pieces. I wouldn’t force you into something you hate, that sort of defeats my fashion philosophy.”

“Your fashion philosophy?” He's smiling now as he listens to you.

“I believe that the whole point of fashion and clothing is to help reflect what you are on the inside, not mask it.” You reply, hand finding his own. He allows it, finding something warm and soothing in the touch of your hand, silencing the usual urge to pull away in fear of germs. “And, anyway, I think your clothes make you look really intellectual, so if you like them, you have the pieces in your closet already, it’s just a matter of styling them better.” 

You squeeze his hand, but he could have sworn you did it to his actual heart. 

He watches as you return to his closet again, rummaging through the clothes. You hold up a white button down and a navy blue cardigan, head tilted to the side, teeth worrying the plushness of your lower lip, “Like this; this is a nice combination, and it’ll work better with your complexion. Try it on.” they’re tossed over to him, landing on his lap.

You’re turning away from him, still going through his clothes—allowing him privacy. He appreciates that. He scrambles out of his current clothes, his skin prickling as he thinks about the fact that he’s in a room with a woman alone, getting undressed. No. You’re a friend and a coworker doing him a favor, he should get his head out of the gutter. Hurriedly, he puts the suggested ensemble on.

“Uh, it’s — you can turn around.”

He holds his breath as your eyes rove over his figure, still with the same sharpness he’s used to, but blunted by the small smile playing across your lips. “Yeah, that’s better. Navy’s a great color for you.” you have a stack of his shirts in your hand, all of them patterned and printed, “I’m sorry, but these… have to go. Or at least don’t wear them to work. The prints are ugly, no offense.”

He chuckles, taking the shirts from you, “Not wearing ugly prints to work anymore, got it.”

“Yeah, keep the funky patterns on your ties.” you reach up, brushing lint and dust off the cardigan, “Your shirts should remain plain, solid colors; you have a lot of nice sweater vests and cardigans, it’ll be easier to match them together if your shirts are in more basic colors.” 

Committing your words to memory is easy enough. Rules. He likes rules, but they need to make sense to him, otherwise their arbitrariness will simply frustrate him. “Why?”

“Why what?”

So far, you’re being so receptive to his questions, it might actually make him cry. It’s a new feeling, being the one who’s floundering. Not being the smartest, most knowledgeable person. How exciting, he decides, getting to learn in an area he’s never been able to fully understand on his own. He clarifies, “Why can’t I match the cardigans and sweaters to, uh, colorful shirts?” 

It’s a while before you answer, moving around to wind a tie across his neck. Your words are thoughtful when you speak, “It’s a visual balance. Too many colors and patterns can look heavy and distracting— which is okay, you know, but time and place is always something to consider when you’re dressing up. And you’re going to work, so it’s better to err on the side of caution and wear things that are more… sleek.” Your hands are deft as they tighten the tie, tucking it into the cardigan. “So now that I know what sorts of clothes you like to wear, it’s a matter of finding the right color combinations and cuts that fit your body. Here, see for yourself.”

You push him forward until he’s in front of his mirror, and indeed he does look… better. Still himself, still familiar, but the contrast of the navy cardigan against his pale skin somehow brings out more warmth from his cheeks and makes his hair seem less dull. Visual balance, you said. “Like art,” he murmurs.

“Exactly,” your smile is proud, peeking from behind his shoulder, “Fashion is the most powerful art there is. It’s movement, design, and architecture all in one. It shows the world who we are and who we’d like to be… and this is showing the world that you’re one attractive nerd.”

He laughs at that. There’s a lightness in his chest as he realizes he doesn’t have to change everything. “I think I get it.” he replies, meeting your eyes in the mirror.

“Of course you do, you’re a genius.” A slap on the back, one filled with warm intimacy, “Now, I did promise the team a makeover, so now that I know what sort of stuff you need, we can finally go shopping… and we need to do something with your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” he asks, but he’s smiling and so are you.

THERE WILL BE A PART TWO! Also, tagging everyone who expressed interest in Waldorf!Reader @mggslover @libraprincessfairy @lillaberry @lokisswiftie

[goldsainz]

# DREW STARKEY — BEHIND THE SCENES !

MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ a recollection of moments from when you and drew filmed your first movie together.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ probably inaccurate acting scenes, slight angst.

003. NOTE !

✯ guys i’ve spent more time conjuring up ideas about the fictional movie (knowing greek mythology paid off) than actually writing this. again, zendaya is just a face claim for the social media parts but the reader can be imagined as anything or anyone you want! this is also the longest piece of writing i’ve ever done so i really hope it was worth the wait 🫶

word count : 6,6k

There was something undeniably thrilling about starting a new movie project. It wasn’t just the act of filming that exhilarated you, no, it was the entire experience: stepping into a fresh role, meeting new colleagues, and immersing yourself in the intricacies of a new story. Each character brought a unique set of challenges and emotions, making acting as intoxicating as it was fulfilling.

When your agent first mentioned Damien Chazelle’s latest project, it felt like the stars had aligned. A psychological thriller, a role so complex and sought after—it was the kind of opportunity actors dream about. After various auditions and callbacks, you finally got the call: you’d landed the part. But nothing could have prepared you for the shock of learning that Drew Starkey would also be starring in the film.

You’d first met Drew during Variety’s Actors on Actors interview series. The chemistry between you two had been immediate, magnetic, and brimming with potential. The interview itself was lighthearted, but fans couldn’t stop buzzing about the dynamic between you afterward. Social media was flooded with calls for you both to star in a film together. Little did they know that dream would soon become reality.

Your first day on set felt surreal. Despite all your preparation, a flicker of nervous energy pulsed in your chest. It wasn’t just about embodying Isabella, a role that demanded every ounce of emotional depth you had; it was about reuniting with Drew after the whirlwind of speculation and excitement that followed your previous encounter.

Then, as if on cue, you spotted him. He stood across the bustling set, deep in conversation with Damien Chazelle. Already in costume—tailored slacks, an impeccably pressed shirt, and a hint of disheveled hair that somehow enhanced his charm—he looked every bit the enigmatic and manipulative art dealer, Theo. It was almost unsettling how effortlessly he slipped into character.

A pang of nervous energy tightened in your chest, but you masked it quickly. You were no stranger to working alongside talented actors, but something about Drew made you want to push yourself even harder—to impress him, match his intensity, or simply hold your own against the charisma that seemed to radiate from him.

As Drew turned and caught sight of you, his expression shifted. A flicker of recognition passed over his face, followed by a grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. He excused himself from his conversation with Damien and strode toward you, his step casual yet deliberate.

“Well, look who’s here,” he said, his tone teasing but undeniably warm. “The artist herself.”

“Drew,” you replied, matching his energy with a smirk. “Or should I say, Theo?”

“Touché,” he shot back, his grin widening as he stopped in front of you. “Guess we’re both stepping into some big shoes this time.”

The air between you hummed with unspoken energy, the hum of the crew around you fading into the background.

“So,” he began, his voice quieter now, tinged with sincerity. “How are you feeling about all this? Ready to dive into the chaos?”

You chuckled softly, a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling beneath the surface. “As ready as I’ll ever be. And you?”

His gaze softened, the playful edge giving way to something earnest. “Same. But if there’s anyone who can bring Isabella to life, it’s you. You’ve got this.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a warm blanket, bolstering your confidence. “Thanks, Drew,” you said, your voice touched with gratitude. “That means a lot.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Just don’t forget to save some of that intensity for the scenes. I hear Theo and Isabella have… interesting dynamics.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile curving your lips. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten. Just try to keep up, Starkey.”

His laughter was genuine, the kind that made your chest feel lighter. “Challenge accepted.”

The set had an almost electric feel today. The tension in the air mirrored the intensity of the scene you were about to film, a confrontation that pushed Isabella to her limits. Drew had just finished his scenes as Theo, but instead of retreating to his trailer for a break, he chose to stay behind the cameras, watching you as you prepared for your big moment.

He leaned against a quiet corner of the set, his arms crossed, his gaze never leaving you. You were already in character, your body language shifting as you transformed into Isabella. Drew had seen it all; the way you could disappear into your role, the way you made every moment feel alive, even the smallest of gestures. It was magnetic, captivating, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

You were standing across from a male crew member, discussing the next scene. Drew noticed how naturally you interacted with him, the ease with which you joked around, the warm laughter that escaped you as you shared a quiet moment between takes. There was nothing flirtatious about it, nothing intentional. It was just your charm, your ability to connect with anyone, to make them feel like they were the only person in the room.

But as Drew watched, a pang of something unfamiliar twisted in his chest. The crew member—an assistant director, he knew—was praising you. “You’ve really outdone yourself today,” the man said with a grin, clapping you on the back. “Isabella’s depth? Incredible. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone pull that off quite like you.”

You smiled, your cheeks flushing with the kind of humility that made Drew’s heart ache. “Thank you, that’s all I wanted,” you said, clearly grateful for the acknowledgment but never one to boast.

Drew’s grip on the railing tightened, a strange feeling settling in his gut as he watched you laugh and engage so effortlessly. He had always admired your talent—hell, he had always been in awe of it—but today, for some reason, it felt different. The warmth in the crew member’s praise, the way he seemed to linger a little longer, a little too long, sent a sharp twinge of jealousy through Drew. He hated the way it felt, hated how quickly it consumed him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to be appreciated—he did. You deserved all the recognition in the world. But the knowledge that someone else was seeing the very qualities he had admired in you from the start, that someone else could see what made you so unique... it made something inside him stir.

And it wasn’t just admiration he felt for you—it was something deeper, something he had tried to ignore ever since that first interview. He could remember the spark between you both, the effortless connection that had only grown stronger since then. Every moment with you, every conversation, had somehow led him here. To this feeling, this painful realization that he wasn’t just drawn to you as a friend or a co-star—he was falling for you.

But he wasn’t sure if you saw him the same way. Or if you ever would.

He swallowed hard, trying to shake off the feeling, but it lingered, gnawing at him as the scene began. Drew watched from the shadows as you took your position, your posture shifting with the weight of Isabella’s inner turmoil. The camera rolled, and the world seemed to disappear. He wasn’t thinking about the crew member anymore, or the way you had smiled at him.

No, Drew was too focused on the way you delivered your lines. Every word you spoke seemed to come from a place of real pain, real desperation. It was like watching a storm roll in, one that consumed everything in its path.

When Damien called cut, the set fell silent for a beat. Drew’s breath caught in his throat. You were brilliant. He’d known it for a long time, but watching you right here, right now, brought it all to the forefront—how far you had come, how much of yourself you put into every scene.

He watched you stand tall, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes still distant from the intensity of the scene you’d just played. And as you looked around, Drew’s gaze softened. You were remarkable.

The crew member who had been praising you earlier walked up to you again, and Drew couldn’t help but feel that same uncomfortable stir in his chest. He had to admit, it wasn’t just the praise that bothered him—it was the way this guy kept looking at you. Drew quickly averted his eyes, his jaw tightening as he turned his attention back to the crew.

But as you turned toward Drew, your eyes meeting his for just a second, something passed between you, something unspoken. You offered him a small, genuine smile, the kind that only he seemed to get. And in that brief moment, everything else faded away.

He took a breath, forcing the jealousy back down. The weight of it, the sting, wasn’t going to cloud this moment. He knew what he felt. It was real, it was undeniable, and maybe, just maybe, there was still time to figure it all out. But for now, all he could do was admire you from afar, watch as you brought your character to life, and hope that one day, you’d see him the way he saw you.

And with that thought, Drew finally stepped forward, his resolve firming, ready to give you the space and respect you deserved while also knowing that there was so much more he wanted to say.

The scene you were filming was a culmination of everything Isabella had been building toward—raw, vulnerable, and utterly shattering. It wasn’t just a performance; it was a reckoning, the moment when all her carefully buried pain and longing erupted to the surface. Every word you spoke felt like tearing open a wound, every gesture a desperate plea for salvation. The air was thick with tension, and you could feel the weight of every eye on set, holding their breath, waiting to see if you could pull it off.

Drew, as Theo, stood before you, towering in every sense of the word. His presence wasn’t just physical; it consumed the space, dominating the scene like a storm about to break. His voice, low and cutting, delivered lines that felt like knives slicing through the air, leaving no room to hide. When his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity was unbearable, like he could see right into you—not just Isabella, but you.

The camera captured the moment your composure shattered, tears spilling as your voice cracked under the weight of the scene. You weren’t sure where Isabella ended and you began anymore. The pain felt too real, too sharp, and when Damien finally called “cut,” the word sliced through the tension like a knife. The silence that followed was deafening, a stark contrast to the storm you’d just weathered.

You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, the rawness of the moment clinging to you like a second skin. Your chest heaved as you struggled to come back to yourself, but the emotions wouldn’t let go. Your hands trembled at your sides, and for a brief, terrifying moment, you thought you might break apart completely.

“Hey,” Drew’s voice cut through the haze, soft but insistent. His hand was on your arm before you even realized he’d crossed the room. His touch was grounding, his presence a lifeline. “Look at me,” he said, his tone low, coaxing.

You turned your head slowly, meeting his eyes, and the concern there undid you. Your breath hitched, and a tear slid down your cheek before you could stop it. “I… I don’t know how long I can keep doing this,” you whispered, the words tumbling out, raw and unfiltered. “It’s too much. I feel like I’m drowning.”

Drew didn’t hesitate. He stepped closer, his hand sliding from your arm to your shoulder, then to the small of your back, pulling you gently but firmly into his embrace. You froze for a moment, caught between the instinct to hold it together and the overwhelming need to let go. His arms wrapped around you, warm and steady, and the dam broke.

“I can’t,” you choked out, your voice muffled against his chest. “I feel like I left everything out there, and there’s nothing left of me. Nothing.”

His grip tightened, his hand cradling the back of your head as his fingers threaded gently through your hair. “Shh,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re not empty. You’re just wide open right now, and that’s what makes this real. That’s what makes you extraordinary.”

You clung to him, your hands fisting the fabric of his shirt as sobs wracked your body. He didn’t rush you, didn’t try to fix it or make it better. He just held you, his own breathing steady and calm, like he was anchoring you to the world.

“I saw you out there,” he whispered after a moment, his lips brushing against your temple. “You weren’t just acting. You were her. Every ounce of pain, every flicker of hope—you brought it to life. You made them feel it. You made me feel it.”

You pulled back slightly, your tear-streaked face tilted up to meet his gaze. His eyes were glassy, his own emotions barely restrained, and the vulnerability between you was electric. “But what if it’s not enough?” you asked, your voice breaking.

“It is,” he said firmly, his hand cupping your face now, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “It’s more than enough. You’re enough.” His voice cracked on the last word, the raw sincerity in it making your chest tighten.

The world around you seemed to blur, the sounds of the crew preparing for the next take fading into the background. All you could see, all you could feel, was Drew. He gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his hand steadying your shoulder.“You’ve got this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but laced with unwavering conviction. “And I’ve got you. Always.”

The day had been long—endless takes, precision, and the kind of emotional exhaustion that made every muscle in your body ache. Filming had wrapped for the day, but the atmosphere on set hadn’t fully shifted. The quiet hum of equipment and the occasional voices from the crew still echoed around you, but you felt the weight of the day lift as you retreated to the solitude of your trailer.

You were halfway through removing your costume when a soft knock at the door caught your attention. It was a gentle knock, familiar in its rhythm, and you immediately recognized it.

“Come in,” you called, already knowing who it was.

The door creaked open, and there stood Drew, leaning against the frame with a lazy smile that instantly made the tension in your shoulders ease.

“Long day?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, and there was a glint of playfulness in his eyes, but it was tempered with something warmer, something more tender.

“Understatement,” you replied, rolling your eyes, though your smile betrayed the exhaustion you were trying to hide.

He nodded and pushed the door open a little more, stepping inside. The space felt smaller with him in it, but somehow it didn’t feel crowded. It felt… comfortable. Safe.

Drew’s gaze drifted over to the small sofa beside the window, and without a word, he took a seat, kicking his shoes off and stretching his legs out. You couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly he seemed to move, like he was made to fit into this small space as if he belonged here, with you.

You finished removing the last of the costume and dropped it into the nearby hamper, but instead of diving into your usual post-filming routine of unwinding, you found yourself walking over to him, drawn to the quiet energy between you. He looked up at you, his gaze softening as you neared.

“Come here,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper, as if the very sound of it could pull you closer.

You didn’t hesitat to sit down beside him. There was a comfortable silence between you two, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. You leaned back against the cushions, the heat from his body radiating beside you.

Drew turned his head slightly, catching your eye. His expression was different from how he’d been on set—this wasn’t the charismatic, calculated Theo. This was Drew, the man you had come to know off-camera. His gaze was tender, almost searching, as if he was asking permission for something more.

Without a word, he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing over yours before lacing them together. The small contact sent a flutter through you, the simple act of his touch carrying an intimacy that felt far more profound than it had any right to be.

“Can I just…” he began, his voice trailing off for a moment before he squeezed your hand gently. “Can I just be here with you for a while? No cameras, no lines, just us?”

You nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I’d like that.”

His thumb began to trace soft circles over the back of your hand, and you leaned into him, the quiet between you two settling into something even deeper than physical proximity. His body was warm, and his scent—fresh and slightly woody—wrapped around you like a blanket, comforting in its familiarity.

“You were incredible today,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. His words held no pretense, just raw sincerity. “Every time I see you step into a scene, it’s like you bring something new to the table. I don’t know how you do it.”

You could feel your heart flutter at his praise, but instead of letting it sink in fully, you shifted your focus back to him, tilting your head slightly to catch his eyes. “What about you? You’re kind of a force to be reckoned with, Starkey.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and genuine, and you felt him shift closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. “I’m just trying to keep up with you,” he teased, but there was no mistaking the fondness in his voice. He leaned in just enough for his breath to graze your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Before you could respond, he moved his hand from yours, slowly resting it on your cheek, his touch soft but possessive. The weight of his gaze locked onto yours, and you could feel the air shift between you—charged, magnetic, undeniable.

“I’ve wanted this moment for a while,” he admitted quietly, his thumb grazing your cheekbone.

Your pulse quickened, your breath hitching as his hand slid around to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You didn’t fight it; you closed the gap, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and filled with the kind of quiet longing that had built between you for weeks now.

The kiss deepened, and everything outside of the small trailer seemed to fade away. There was no set, no crew, no expectations—just the two of you, wrapped up in the space you had created together. It wasn’t hurried or urgent. It was soft, a tender promise without words, like something neither of you had realized you needed until it was happening.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, you found yourself leaning your forehead against his, sharing the same air between you. He smiled, his eyes glimmering with something that went beyond attraction.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured, his voice thick with affection.

You closed your eyes, savoring the quiet after the storm of emotions on set, the gentle sound of his heartbeat in your ear, and the warmth of his embrace. “Me too,” you whispered back, letting the moment stretch on, knowing it was one you’d carry with you long after the lights went down and the cameras stopped rolling.

The morning after your quiet, intimate moment in the trailer felt different. There was a strange kind of weight in the air between you and Drew that neither of you could ignore. The atmosphere on set was charged with an unspoken energy, the kind that hung between two people who had shared something personal but weren’t quite sure how to navigate it in the daylight.

As the crew began setting up for the first scene of the day, you found yourself standing off to the side, absentmindedly checking your script, but every now and then, your eyes would flicker toward Drew. He was standing with Damien, talking animatedly about something, but there was a tightness in his posture that wasn’t there before. He had always exuded confidence, but now, there was a subtle hesitance to his movements—like he was still figuring out where you stood with each other after the kiss.

You could feel it too. The usual camaraderie between you two was laced with something different now. The chemistry was still there, but it felt like a live wire; dangerous and unpredictable. The playful banter that had flowed so easily between you the day before seemed distant, replaced by awkward silences whenever you found yourselves in the same vicinity.

You tried to shake it off. This was your job. You were here to work, to give your best performance, and that had to come first. But no matter how much you told yourself to focus, the tension was inescapable.

The first scene you were filming together was a pivotal one—Isabella’s first real confrontation with Theo, a moment where everything changes between them. Your character was supposed to be cool and collected, but deep down, she was unraveling at the seams. You had to bring all that turmoil, all that internal chaos to the surface in a matter of moments.

When Damien called “Action,” the professional masks slipped on almost instinctively, and you both fell into character.

Drew’s performance was colder today, more distant, his usual charm replaced by a simmering, quiet intensity. His eyes, once warm and full of teasing, now held a cold calculation as they met yours. You could feel the weight of his gaze, and though it was just acting, the memory of the night before lingered, making the scene feel even more charged than it should have been.

“You think you have control of this, Isabella?” Theo’s voice was sharp, the words cutting through the air like a blade.

You shot back, the defiance in Isabella’s eyes glaring through your own. “Your entire scheme depends on me, Theo. Without me, it crumbles to dust. If that’s not control, I don’t know what is.”

The words came easily, but every time you locked eyes with Drew, there was a brief flicker of something behind his gaze—a flicker of the intimacy you’d shared, a memory that was suddenly alive in the space between you. It was hard to shake, and you could tell it was affecting his performance too. His lines weren’t as crisp as usual, his timing slightly off, as though he was distracted.

The tension was palpable, hanging over the scene like a cloud, and the moment you wrapped the scene, the silence that followed felt deafening.

Damien looked between the two of you, his brow furrowing slightly. “Let’s take a break,” he said after a moment, clearly sensing the shift in energy. “Maybe a few minutes to reset?”

You nodded quickly, eager for the space, for the chance to breathe outside of the tight bubble of tension. Drew, on the other hand, didn’t say anything. He simply nodded curtly, giving you a quick glance that made your stomach flip before turning away to walk toward the corner of the set.

You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Should you approach him? Pretend nothing had changed? Or should you give him space, let the awkwardness settle, and let the scene breathe?

You didn’t get the chance to think too long. A hand gently touched your shoulder, and you turned to find Cailee Spaney, your co-star, standing beside you, a concerned look on her face.

“You two okay?” she asked, her tone light, but there was a genuine curiosity behind it. She knew you both well enough to sense the shift.

You hesitated. “I think so. Just… a weird energy today, you know?”

Cailee’s eyes flickered over to where Drew stood, chatting with the crew but still glancing in your direction. “It’s pretty obvious to everyone. You’ve got to clear the air, or it’s going to keep hanging over both of you.”

You knew she was right. The unspoken tension between you and Drew wasn’t just something that could be ignored—it would affect the work, the connection between your characters, and maybe even the rest of the team’s comfort. But you weren’t sure how to fix it. How do you go from that intimate moment behind closed doors to this, to being back in the public eye with cameras rolling, no room for vulnerability?

As you stood there, lost in your thoughts, Drew’s voice broke through, calling your name.

“Hey,” he said, walking toward you, his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyes uncertain but earnest. “Can we talk?”

You nodded, stepping a little closer to him. There was an intensity in his gaze now, but it wasn’t the cold, calculating Theo you’d seen on set. This was Drew, the one you knew—the one who had kissed you, the one who was just as affected by everything as you were.

“Look,” he started, his voice lower than usual. “I’m not… I don’t want this to be weird. I don’t want it to mess with the work, with the scenes. I just—”

“Yeah,” you interrupted softly, “me neither. It’s just… it’s hard to go back to pretending nothing happened.”

He smiled weakly, and you could see the tension in his face ease a little. “You’re right. But we’ve got this. We’ll figure it out. Just need to get through today, right?”

You took a deep breath, nodding. “Right.”

And for the first time since you’d kissed him, you both shared a moment of quiet understanding—no more words needed. You still didn’t know how this would all play out, but for now, you had a scene to finish, a role to play, and a bond that had quietly shifted in ways neither of you could ignore.

The last day on set arrived like a blur—one moment, you were just starting the project, and now, you were standing in the middle of the set for the final scene, everything winding down. It felt surreal, almost like you were moving through a dream. The camaraderie you’d built with the cast and crew, the long hours, the inside jokes, and the late-night rehearsals were all coming to a close. And yet, there was a weight in the air—one that had little to do with the wrap-up of the film.

You and Drew had navigated the tension between you both for weeks now, silently acknowledging it but never fully addressing it. Both of you had poured your energy into the project, the work taking center stage, but there had always been that quiet pull between you. Now, as you watched the final scene being set up, there was no denying it: this wasn’t just about wrapping the film. There was something unspoken that you knew needed to be said.

Drew was already on set, his costume as Theo impeccably sharp, his eyes distracted as he ran through lines under his breath. He looked different today—softer, like the walls he’d built around himself throughout the project were crumbling.

The last scene between Isabella and Theo was intense, charged with everything they’d been through together. It was a pivotal moment, where they both stood at a crossroads, neither sure of where the future would take them. The connection between you two felt more real than ever, and you knew this was the moment where it all had to come to a head—both on screen and off.

As the crew prepared for the final take, you caught Drew’s eye from across the set. There was something in his gaze—a flicker of hesitation, like he wanted to say something, but the moment wasn’t quite right. You couldn’t let it go.

You moved toward him, your footsteps echoing in the quiet before the chaos of the scene began. As you approached, Drew straightened up, his hands fidgeting nervously at his sides.

"Hey," you said, offering him a small smile. “Ready to wrap this up?”

He returned the smile, but there was an unreadable look in his eyes. “Yeah, but... I’ve been thinking.”

You raised an eyebrow, a sense of curiosity stirring in your chest. “About?”

He shifted slightly, the weight of his words hanging between you two. “About us. About... everything.” He swallowed, his usual confident demeanor faltering. “You know, the way things have been between us. We’ve never really talked about it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The air between you felt thick, charged. It was as if the words had been waiting to spill out for weeks, and now, in the stillness of the final day, they couldn’t be contained any longer.

“Drew…” you started, your voice barely a whisper, unsure of what to say.

He stepped closer, the space between you narrowing until it felt like no one else existed. “I’ve wanted to tell you this for a while now,” he continued, his voice a little rougher than usual, the weight of his feelings making every word feel like it carried more meaning than it ever had before. “I can’t pretend anymore. Not after everything we’ve been through. Not after how I feel about you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, everything around you seemed to fade into the background. The noise of the set, the crew bustling about, even the upcoming scene—it all vanished as Drew’s words sank in.

“I care about you,” he said, his voice softer now, the intensity of his confession undeniable. “More than I’ve let on. More than I probably should. But I can’t ignore it anymore, and I don’t want to walk away from this without telling you.”

You stood there, the weight of his confession hanging in the air. It felt like a moment frozen in time—one that had been building for weeks, but now that it was finally here, you didn’t know how to respond.

For a beat, you didn’t say anything. You just looked at him, trying to process the rush of emotions his words had triggered. But then, a smile began to tug at the corners of your lips. You took a step closer to him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I’m glad you said that,” you whispered, your voice steady, but your emotions running wild beneath the surface. “I’ve been feeling the same way, Drew. I just didn’t know if you felt the same.”

He gave a small, relieved laugh, his eyes brightening with that familiar warmth. “I’ve been trying to convince myself to wait until the film wrapped, until everything calmed down. But every time I looked at you... it just felt like I was lying to myself.”

You laughed softly, the tension between you easing, replaced by something deeper, something real. “I think we’ve both been lying to ourselves,” you said, your hand unconsciously reaching out for his.

Drew’s fingers curled around yours, and for the first time in weeks, there was no awkwardness, no uncertainty—just the simple connection between you both, like a thread that had always been there, waiting to be pulled.

As the crew called for the final take, you both stood there for a moment longer, simply taking in the quiet of the moment before the storm of filming began again.

“Let’s finish this,” Drew said with a grin, his fingers still tightly holding yours.

You nodded, the anticipation in your chest matching the excitement in his eyes. "Yeah. Let’s do this."

The scene was about to begin, but for once, you weren’t worried about the cameras, the crew, or the pressure. For the first time in a long while, you were just here—with him. And that was enough.

As you both walked back onto set, side by side, you knew this moment, this day, was one that would stay with you long after the credits rolled. Drew had confessed his feelings, and the truth between you was no longer hidden. You had one more scene to film, but in that moment, it felt like the beginning of something entirely new.

The post-wrap party was everything you’d imagined it would be—laughter, music, and the celebratory sound ofclinking of glasses. The set was a distant memory now, the whirlwind of the past few months slowly fading into the background as you found yourself in the midst of the crew and cast, celebrating the end of a long, intense journey. The atmosphere was warm, filled with a sense of accomplishment and camaraderie.

Lights twinkled overhead, casting a soft glow over the gathering. The chatter was a mix of congratulatory remarks and funny anecdotes from behind the scenes. You could hear snippets of conversations as people relived the chaos of filming, the challenges, and the triumphs, but amidst it all, your eyes couldn’t help but drift back to Drew.

He was leaning against the bar, chatting with a few of the crew members. Even from across the room, you could feel the pull between you—the magnetic energy that had only intensified since that first kiss. The way he’d laughed with you on set, the way he’d confessed his feelings on that last day—it all felt like a beautiful dream, yet it was real. You couldn’t shake the quiet contentment that had settled in your chest, a feeling that only seemed to grow stronger with every passing minute.

Your heart warmed as you watched him, the soft light from the party highlighting the sharpness of his jaw, the playfulness in his eyes. Drew looked at home here, yet he had a way of making everything feel more meaningful just by being present. He was grounded and alive in a way that made you feel safe, as if you’d found a place in this world where you truly belonged.

Finally, your legs moved on their own, carrying you through the crowd. Each step brought you closer to him, closer to something that felt inevitable. And when he turned toward you, as if he’d sensed your approach, his eyes lit up with the warmth that had become familiar. There was no awkwardness now, no uncertainty—only the comfort of knowing that you and Drew were no longer tiptoeing around each other. What had started as something tentative had grown into something real, something undeniable.

“Hey,” Drew said with that soft smile of his, his voice like home. “I was wondering when you’d come over.”

You smiled back, moving closer to him, feeling the way his presence filled the space between you. “Couldn’t resist. The party’s fun, but... I’d rather be here with you,” you replied, your voice low and sincere.

Drew’s smile deepened, his gaze softening as he looked at you, his eyes full of something that went beyond simple affection. He raised his glass in a mock toast. “To the film, to the work, and to... us, I guess,” he said, a little shy but so genuine that it made your chest ache.

You lifted your own glass to meet his, the soft clink of the glasses an almost imperceptible note in the music that surrounded you. “To us,” you echoed, the words settling deep within you, filling the empty spaces you didn’t even realize existed. It was real now, the connection, the undeniable bond that had been growing between you since the moment you first locked eyes on set.

The music played softly in the background, but in that moment, it felt like everything was quieter—more intimate. You were standing there together, both of you caught in the soft embrace of a night that felt endless, where time stood still. Drew’s presence was a comfort you hadn’t known you needed, and as you stood beside him, a peace settled over you that you hadn’t expected.

“Are you happy with how everything turned out?” Drew asked, his voice sincere, his eyes searching yours for something only you could give him.

You thought for a moment, your heart beating steadily in your chest. The long hours, the late-night rehearsals, the emotional scenes—it had all been a whirlwind. But standing there with Drew, feeling the warmth of his hand resting just above your waist, everything felt clearer. “Yeah,” you said, your voice steady but filled with warmth. “I’m proud of everything we did. Proud of how far we’ve come.”

Drew nodded, his gaze softening, and his lips curved into a smile that made your heart flutter. “Same here. You were incredible. You brought Isabella to life in a way I never thought possible.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Well, you weren’t so bad yourself, Starkey. Theo was... captivating, to say the least.” The words were teasing, but your smile spoke of something deeper—a sense of admiration and respect for everything he’d brought to the character.

His laugh was soft, a sound that sent warmth through your veins, and he moved a little closer, the space between you disappearing. “Thanks. But I think you’re the one who made everything come together. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner.” His words were simple, yet they carried a weight that made your chest tighten in the most wonderful way.

The connection between you deepened in that moment, like two puzzle pieces finally clicking into place. Drew’s gaze softened, and his voice dropped to a quiet whisper. “I meant what I said earlier,” he murmured, taking a step closer, his hand slipping into yours. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I know it’s crazy, but... I don’t want this to be just a set thing. What we have, I mean. I don’t want it to end when the film does.”

Your heart raced, and without a second thought, you took a small step toward him, the space between you now nonexistent. “Me neither,” you whispered, your hand gently cupping his face as you looked into his eyes. “I think this is just the beginning, Drew.”

A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, and his hand found the small of your back, pulling you closer, the warmth of his body enveloping you. Without another word, Drew leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in the softest kiss—a kiss that held everything unspoken. It was slow, a gentle exploration, as though both of you were savoring the moment, the sweetness of everything that had led you here.

When you pulled away, the world around you seemed to fade. The music, the laughter, the chatter—it all felt distant, as if the only thing that mattered was Drew, and the feeling of his arms around you, his lips on yours. “Then let’s see where it goes,” he said softly, his breath warm against your cheek.

You smiled, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. The world felt right in a way it hadn’t before. The film was over, but the connection you shared with Drew was just beginning to blossom, and you were content, certain that whatever happened next, you’d face it together.

The night continued around you, but for the two of you, it was just the beginning.

[lqfiles]

PAY THE PRICE — 47. no one but us

(wc: 2.589)

"you could've just knocked." you closed the door behind you, turning around to face donghyuck who was stood a few steps away, hands hidden in the pockets of his jacket. "or you could've just come out without questioning me." he rebutted, pursing his lips before scoffing out a laugh. the two of you made your way towards the lift, pressing the button to call it back up. "we're taking my car, by the way." donghyuck mentioned casually, entering the lift upon its arrival.

"i was gonna take public transport, but this is more convenient." you chuckled, leaning against the railing attached to the wall behind you. donghyuck was stood across you, both his hands holding onto the railing behind him. "i haven't taken public transport in ages, i'll pass on that." donghyuck grimaced and this time you scoffed out a laugh. "you're too grown to be picky about what transport you wanna take." you shook your head in disbelief, stepping out the lift and exiting the apartment complex, though your steps faltered some time later, letting donghyuck guide you to his car instead.

before you could reach the passenger seat, donghyuck reached ahead, opening the door for you in a swift motion. you looked up at him, taken aback by the kind gesture but sent him a grateful smile nonetheless. "thank you" you muttered, entering the passenger seat before donghyuck closed it behind you. after a few seconds, the driver's side opened and donghyuck slid in, starting up his car.

the first thing that caught your attention was the pleasant scent within the car. it felt fresh, yet warm at the same time. a strong hint of sweetness that had you wondering whether he had recently sprayed the inside or if his aroma was that strong. it reminded you of donghyuck, and you couldn't help but want to savour the smell for the time being.

you tried to ignore the way he placed his arm behind your headrest while reversing his car, his body slightly leaning into yours for a moment. you wanted to turn your head so badly, but a part of you was still too scared to be so bold with him. after all, you couldn't even admit to him that this was supposed to be a date, you just hoped he took his own suggestion serious the way you did.

the drive was comfortably silent, aside from the soft music donghyuck let you choose as background noise to entertain yourself with while his attention remained on the navigations to the restaurant. you arrived quickly, and the both of you stepped out the car, stepping towards the entrance of the restaurant instead.

donghyuck once again opened the door for you, letting you walk in before him and following this gesture up by pulling your chair out for you too. you couldn't contain the shy smile on your face at his continuous acts of kindness. he settled opposite you, taking off his jacket to reveal a plain black button up. it was nothing out of the ordinary, yet you couldn't help but think he put some effort into his appearance today. he seemed way more attractive than he usually did right now, or maybe you were just biased because of the occasion.

donghyuck thought the same thing, taking small glances at you, glances that you had yet to notice. you looked outstandingly beautiful tonight, and the thought of it being solely for a night with him made a wave of pride wash over him. "this food better be good." he joked, trying to divert his thoughts to something else.

you lightly rolled your eyes, already knowing what you wanted to get. "it will be. quit complaining." you assured him, waiting for him to finish choosing his order before calling the waiter over. "and if it's not, i want a refund. seriously."

"in your dreams." you replied back, and the both of you laughed. you knew the waiting time wasn't gonna be the quickest, yet it felt like time was nonexistent as you and donghyuck immersed in a conversation, one that you wish never ended. one that carried on as your food had arrived, not leaving any chance for an awkward silence to overtake the moment.

"why did mark bail on you anyways?" donghyuck asked, pausing his bite mid air. you stilled for a moment, not expecting him to even bring mark up in the first place, let alone wanting a reason behind mark's absence. "well.. he had family business to take care of." you quickly fabricated, stuffing your mouth with food to avoid having to elaborate any further.

luckily for you, donghyuck didn't question it much further, though the soft scoff leaving his nostrils didn't go unheard. "this meal is amazing." you changed topics, letting out a hum of satisfaction to emphasise your point. without any words, donghyuck slid his spoon onto your board, scooping out food from your plate before bringing it up to his mouth. "hello?" you asked, both bewildered and amused by his casual action.

donghyuck shrugged. "you said it was amazing, i wanted to taste it myself." he explained, returning to his own plate shortly after. it took you a moment to come up with a response, but you quickly decided to dig your own spoon into his plate too, reciprocating the action by taking some of his.

conversations continued between you two, even when both your plates were already finished. you just didn't want to put an end to the moment. donghyuck seemed into the conversation just as much as you were, and when you looked up for a split second to see him staring at you with a slight smile on his face, his full attention on nothing but you, you swore you felt your knees weaken.

your words came to a stop, and donghyuck hummed in confusion. "hm? why did you stop?" he asked, as if he wasn't aware of what he was doing. he most likely wasn't, but still. "stop staring." you mumbled out. donghyuck, seeing you try your hardest to avoid eye contact, chuckled in return. "what, can't handle it?"

"i can't, actually." you admitted, rolling your head. he laughed in response, and if you had access to donghyuck's inner thoughts, you'd be able to fully grasp how cute he found you at that moment.

"i will pay." donghyuck firmly stated. "well i don't want you to." you stated back, swiping your card over the machine held by the employee, finalising the payment transaction. after a short back and forth between the two of you with donghyuck insisting on paying for the both of you, you left the restaurant paying for your own meal like you intended. donghyuck however seemed very against your decision, it was evident from the way he held you back from entering into the passenger seat, the both of you standing beside the door instead.

"next time, i'm paying." donghyuck waited for an affirmation from you, one he wasn't going to get, unfortunately. "why would i when i can pay for myself?" you reasoned, deliberately ignoring the mention of a next time, though the thought of future plans fid stir a reaction from within you. "it's a gentleman thing to do, you know, paying for the ladies." donghyuck finally stepped aside, letting you enter the car.

you laughed, already settled into your seat as you watched donghyuck enter his seat. "do you pay for every girl you go out to eat with?" you humoured once he started the car. the same process of him placing his hand behind your headrest to reverse proceeded, except this time he halted for a moment, craning his head to look at you instead. "i haven't taken a girl out in years, actually. you're the first a while."

there was something about the casualty at which donghyuck delivered his words that made a cheesy grin form on your face that you hid by looking the other way, feeling overjoyed. a feeling that wouldn’t subdue for the rest of the ride.

it was 9pm when you and donghyuck found yourself at an ice scream shop, eyeing the multiple flavours on display for you to choose from.

"you like chocolate?" he asked, already having his order ready. you shook your head, still gazing down at the options. "no." you verbalised as donghyuck repeated his question, not having caught onto the small action. "i can't believe you do." you added on, deciding to go for a sweet mix of watermelon and strawberry flavours.

"don't hate until you tried it." he defended himself, placing his order and stepping aside to let you place yours. your order went through and the two workers started on each of the orders you placed. you thought of sitting down, but decided against it as you're sure it wouldn't take longer than a minute.

"there is a photo booth there." donghyuck pointed towards the corner of the shop, your head following the direction in which he gestured. "we should take pictures." he proposed, leaving your side for a moment to pick his order up. yours followed shortly after, and you paid for it before returning to your previous spot in the middle of the shop, contemplating his suggestion.

"you don't have to, but it would be fun." he convinced you, picking up on your silent hesitance. "no one but us will see this anyways." donghyuck added on, and it was the last push you needed to nod in agreement, following donghyuck towards the booth. no one but us, were you crazy, or was it strangely intimate?

it was cramped, your body practically on top of donghyuck's and you could feel your heart start to beat at an abnormal pace when your arm was basically squashed into his side. this was definitely growing intimate, and donghyuck subtly shuffled aside, attempting to create more space to calm both your nerves down. "lets do fun poses." he placed his ice cream away and leaned forward, fixing the mess his hair had become from the ongoing wind outside.

you decided to take your jacket off, something donghyuck copied upon seeing. fixing the lines in your clothes, you were ready, taking a quick bite from your ice cream before placing the cup away. "ready?" donghyuck asked, glancing at you to wait for your confirmation. you nodded, and donghyuck pressed the button, starting the shots.

the fun poses donghyuck had prepared were indeed fun, and you couldn't hold back your giggles upon seeing his weird antics. "pose!" he urged you with a nudge, and you complied, you complied with each shot taken, a blissful smile present on your face from the pure joy you felt.

there was something about being confined in a photo booth with donghyuck that caused a surge of emotions to burst within you. you felt happy. watching donghyuck scold you for not posing made you feel warm. observing the wide smile on his own face with each click the machine took made you awe. you were overwhelmed with a sudden affection for him at that moment, your body slowly heating up and feeling weak, because just being next to him made you feel the happiest you've been in a while.

you didn't even realise that you had been staring at him as the last shot got taken, not until donghyuck snapped you out of it. "you barely did any poses." he whined, handing you two copies of the polaroid pictures that were taken. he was right, aside from the smile on your face in each of them, you barely contributed to the fun poses.

"you didn't even look at the camera in the last one." he scolded you further, and he was right once again. your attention had solely been on donghyuck who wore a smug look in the shot, your own expression being one of delight.

matter of fact, your expression hadn't changed for the rest of the time you spent in the shop, finishing the ice cream each of you bought. you were so overcome with affection, show in the pictures each of you owned now, that you just couldn't help but be happy at this instance.

you liked donghyuck, a lot, you couldn't get over how much you had started to like him. you couldn't get over the fact that you were allowed to like him, openly at that. you're sure anyone passing by could point out the love you held for him.

"why are you staring like that... do you want my ice cream?" everyone, but donghyuck.

"its already eleven." you noted, having finally reached your apartment floor after your night out. donghyuck followed closely behind you, nodding his head in agreement. "it wasn't meant to take this long." donghyuck apologised and you two arrived at your front doors.

"for the record, the food was decent, so i won't ask for a refund this time." once again, the mention of another time didn't go unnoticed to you. and this time, you openly smiled at him. "you weren't getting it anyways." you scoffed in response.

"whatever. you should go inside, it's getting cold." his hands left the pockets of his jackets, pushing you by your shoulders to your front door. "and next time, don't ask mark to go because clearly-"

you've never wanted someone the way you wanted donghyuck. you couldn't imagine wanting someone the way you wanted donghyuck. you already realised this, yet every word and sign of care he displayed confirmed the realisation even more, and it was starting to hurt. you truly don't think you could've held this love you had for donghyuck in any longer, not when he was currently scolding your friend for ditching you.

"i like you." the words left your mouth before you could rethink your decision. donghyuck's rant stopped, leaving him paused mid sentence. "i really like you donghyuck, like, a lot. and i think today made me sure about it, and i just couldn't hold it in any longer because it's been bothering me for the longest now.” you rambled out without a breath.

your adrenaline was at an all time high, being able to feel your pulse in your throat and the realisation of your words dawned on you. you swore you could hear your heartbeat at that instance.

donghyuck, to your horror, remained frozen, his eyes widened in shock and you couldn’t tell if it was a look of horror or surprise. so you panicked. “sorry, i don’t know why i said this right now. just- goodnight.” you hastily muttered out, opening the door to your apartment before closing it just as quick. you didn’t even let him speak, too scared of what his response might have been.

there was no way he didn’t reciprocate the same feelings, right? or had you perhaps been overanalysing every action and words he has told you up until this point? you don’t think donghyuck didn’t like you, so why were you so scared?

“she likes me.” donghyuck repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. he was still stood in the halls of the apartment, his back leaning against the wall. despite saying it repeatedly, the words just didn’t seem to register within his mind. up until now, the thought of you liking him back was a mere hunch, something he didn’t want to dwell too much on, too scared of how it would potentially mess with his own feelings.

“she likes me..” donghyuck repeated one last time before entering his place, the words leaving an uneasy sinking feeling within his guts.

previous — master list — next

notes : bet you didn’t expect this… or maybe you did but trust the process guys mama lqfiles got this ❤️ also i only proofread this once sozzz if there are grammer errors

TAGLIST ; @90s-belladonna @pnkified @2jisungs @swee7dream @sinisxtea @en-dream @h-aecat @lostinneocity @sunflowerbebe07 @pookime @aerivrs @alethea-moon @hcvenue @prettyrenjunn @manooffline @bath1lda @hyejooistic @emvrd @dojaejunging @odxrilove @hyuckluvr-com @jaeims @ihyucksol @tddyhyck @dalsosapple @https-yeonjun @luvlyrenwoo @yoursyuno @lilacsxjoon @heymsperfectlyfine @mystverse @ne0c0r3 @casperbutnot-theghost @hyuckies18 @w3bqrl @ckline35 @nosungluv @luvvsnae @chcnlcs @cryingforgyu @thatgirlkay @222brainrot @junviadinho @n0hyuck @sinsgaybutthatsokay @choerubies @goldustupmysea @cyber-innie @hyunjungjae @blamemef0rit @lowkeychenle @lecheugo

[valkyriexo]

Five Minutes | Han Jisung

ᑉ³pairing; sub! han x dom Reader

ᑉ³genre; Smut

ᑉ³warnings; SMUT MDNI,Dom reader, sub Han, dirty talk, swearing, fingering, oral ( f reciving), p in v sex, overstimulation, Smut. SMUTTT minors do NOT interact

ᑉ³Authors Note; Last day of kinktober collab <3 ty ty ty so much for reading. Unedited so please let me know if somethings wrong.

Part of the kinktober collab with @dandelions-143 Kinktober masterlist

The clock ticked softly in the background as you sat at your desk, fully immersed in your work. A deadline loomed overhead, and you were determined to finish everything before the night ended. Your fingers flew across the keyboard, each click pulling you closer to the finish line—until a familiar presence crept into the room.

“Baaabe…”

Han’s voice was a low, drawn-out whine, the kind that tugged at your heartstrings but also made you want to sigh in frustration. You didn’t even need to look up to know what was coming next.

“I’m busy, Han,” you said, trying to keep your tone firm. “This deadline isn’t going to finish itself.”

“But I’m so bored…” His voice came closer, and before you knew it, his hands were resting on your shoulders, thumbs gently massaging your tense muscles. “You’ve been working for hours,” he complained, leaning his head against the back of your chair.

You exhaled sharply, pausing your typing just long enough to glance over your shoulder at him. His pout was in full effect, his bottom lip pushed out in a way that was both childish and undeniably cute. But still—you had work to do.

“I have to finish this,” you said again, turning your attention back to the screen. “I’ll hang out with you after.”

Han let out a dramatic groan, sliding his arms around your shoulders, resting his chin on top of your head. “But I want attention now,” he whined, his voice dipping into that soft, sulky tone he used when he was feeling extra clingy.

You stifled a smile, trying to stay focused. “You sound like a five-year-old,” you teased.

He pulled back slightly, but you could still feel his presence hovering behind you. “I do not,” he muttered, though you could hear the playful edge in his voice. “I’m just a man who misses his girlfriend, is that such a crime?”

His hands slid down your arms, fingers grazing your wrists as he gently but persistently spun your chair around to face him. You raised an eyebrow, and Han met your gaze with a smirk. Despite his whiny behavior, there was something undeniably charming about the way he looked at you, a glint of playfulness in his dark eyes.

“Five minutes,” he bargained, holding up his hand. “Just give me five minutes, and then I swear, I’ll let you get back to work.”

You stared at him, trying to gauge how serious he was. “You said that last time, and then five minutes turned into an hour.”

Han grinned sheepishly. “Okay, but this time I really mean it.”

You sighed, knowing full well that you were losing this battle. “Fine. Five minutes. And then no more distractions.”

Without another word, he tugged you up from the chair and pulled you into his arms, wrapping you up in a tight embrace. He buried his face in your neck, his lips brushing lightly against your skin. “I just need you close,” he murmured, his voice softer now, more sincere. “It’s been a long day.”

You softened at his words, leaning into him as his warmth seeped into you. “You’re so needy sometimes,” you whispered, though there was no real bite to the words.

Han chuckled softly, his breath warm against your neck. “Yeah, well, you signed up for this when you agreed to date me.”

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. “I didn’t think it meant you’d constantly be distracting me from important work.”

“I’m important work,” he said with a wink, pulling back just enough to look at you. His hands moved to cup your face, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “Come on, admit it—you’re glad I’m here.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, pretending to think about it. “You’re kind of a distraction… but a cute one.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, his eyes warm and full of affection. Then, with a sly grin, he tugged you down onto the bed, pulling you into his lap.

“Hey!” you protested half-heartedly. “I said five minutes, not a full-on cuddle session.”

“Five minutes of cuddles is what I heard,” Han said, settling you comfortably against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. “Besides, you need a break. You’re too tense.”

You wanted to argue, but the truth was that his embrace was already melting away the stress that had been building up all day. His fingers traced gentle patterns on your back, and you felt yourself relaxing despite your best efforts to stay focused on work.

“Fine,” you mumbled, resting your head against his shoulder. “But after this, I really do need to get back to it.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Han said, though the teasing lilt in his voice made it clear he had no intention of actually letting you go anytime soon.

The two of you sat there in comfortable silence, the soft rise and fall of Han’s breathing lulling you into a sense of calm. His hand stroked through your hair, and for a moment, the weight of your deadline seemed far away.

“I’ll let you go in a minute,” he whispered into your ear, his lips brushing your temple. “I just… I like having you close.”

Your heart squeezed at his quiet confession, the vulnerability in his voice so different from his earlier whining.  Han leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a gentle, lingering kiss. His hand slid up to cup your face, fingers resting lightly against your cheek as he deepened the kiss, slow and deliberate. It wasn’t rushed or demanding—just soft, sweet, and full of affection.

You sighed against his lips, all thoughts of work slipping further from your mind as you melted into the kiss. The way he held you, the warmth of his body against yours, the tenderness of his touch—it was impossible not to get lost in him.

  He pouts, looking at you with those big brown eyes and you can feel yourself melting. "Please, n-n-n...I need it. I need you." his voice is barely above a whisper, but the pleading is clear in his tone.

As his lips brushed yours again, his hands slid down your back, coming to rest on the curve of your waist. He squeezed lightly, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. You could feel your resolve weakening with every passing second, your body responding instinctively to his closeness.

"Han," you breathed, the name escaping your lips without conscious thought. It was a plea, a surrender—and you both knew it.

He pulled back, a hint of a smirk on his lips. "Yes?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"You're making it very difficult for me to say no," you admitted, a blush spreading across your cheeks.

He laughed softly, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through his chest. "Then don't say no," he said, his gaze fixed on yours.

Your heart fluttered at his words, at the look in his eyes. It was the same look he'd given you the first time he asked you out, the same look that made your knees weak and your head spin. You knew you should resist, that you should pull away and get back to work, but the temptation was too strong.

You start to place kisses on his neck.

His skin was warm under your lips, the faint scent of his cologne filling your senses as you kissed along the column of his neck. You could feel his pulse quickening, his breath catching in his throat as your mouth found the spot just below his ear.

You continued kissing his neck and ears, then started sucking on the base of his neck.

He groaned softly, his eyes fluttering closed as his head tipped back, giving you better access. Your lips moved lower, trailing down the front of his shirt until you reached the top button.You paused, looking up at him through your lashes.

His eyes opened, and the desire burning in them sent a thrill through you.

"Go ahead," he said, his voice thick with arousal. "I won't stop you."

You popped open the first button, exposing a tantalizing glimpse of his bare chest. Your mouth watered as you leaned in to plant a kiss on the newly exposed skin, eliciting another low groan from Han.

"More," he urged, his grip on your waist tightening.

You worked your way down his shirt, taking your time as you revealed his toned torso inch by inch. By the time you reached the last button, he was panting, his eyes hooded with lust. You could see the outline of his erection straining against the fabric of his pants, and the sight sent a rush of heat straight to your core.

"Like what you see?" he teased, his lips quirking into a smirk.

You nodded, unable to find the words. Instead, you leaned in and pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to his chest, your tongue darting out to taste his skin.

Then you pull back, standing up like nothing happened.

"W-wait. Where are you going?" Han says.

"Back to work." You reply.

"But- but"

"Han.."

"Please- please.. ill.. ill do all the work.. please" he says as he walks towards you and starts kissing your neck.

Your face flushes red. "H-Han.."

"Just.. one round.. please.."

You bite your lip.

"Pleas-e..."

You sigh.

"On your knees," you command, your voice firm and authoritative. He complies immediately, his eyes never leaving yours . You can see the hunger in his gaze and it only makes you want him more.

As soon as he's in position, you remove your shorts, leaving you in your panties. You can already see a wet spot forming, betraying just how turned on you are. You take your time, making a show of taking them off. You're sure he's getting impatient, but it's worth it to see the look of pure desire on his face.

Once they're off, You step closer, your thighs brushing against his face. You can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, and it takes everything in you not to moan.

You lean forward, grabbing a fistful of his hair. You tug on his hair, tilting his head back, and he gasps, his eyes wide and dark with lust.

   “What do you want, Han?” she asked, her voice low and sultry.

    Han whimpered, his eyes flicking down to your cunt. He licked his lips, his cock twitching in his pants.

    “I want to taste you,” Han begged, his voice trembling. “Please, y/n. I need to taste you.”

"You want to taste me?" you ask, your voice low and husky.

"Yes," he breathes, his voice already sounding wrecked. "Please."

You can't hold back any longer.

"Then do it."

You feel his tongue on you, tentative at first but quickly growing bolder. He explores every inch of you, tasting and teasing, and it's takes all of you to stay standing.

Your hand tightens in his hair, urging him on. He responds with enthusiasm, his tongue dipping inside of you and drawing a moan from your lips.

It's not long before you're trembling, your legs threatening to give out. But you dont want to let him win.

You yawn, feigning boredom as he continues to lick your pussy.

"Are you gonna keep playing games or are you gonna make me cum?"

He moans against your clit, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through you. You bite your lip, struggling to keep up the facade of nonchalance.

You pull back slightly, forcing him to look up at you.

"Are you going to make me cum?" you ask, your voice breathless.

He nods, his eyes glazed with lust. "Yes," he pants. "Yes, I am."

Your grip on his hair tightens and you grind against his mouth, his tongue finding your clit and working it with expert precision.

"Did you forget you had fingers?" you say

"No-no," he replies between licking. "s-sorry"

You let out a sharp gasp as he slips a finger inside of you, curling it just right. You feel a familiar heat pooling in your core, the pressure building as he works you closer and closer to the edge.

   You lean your head back, your eyes closing as you enjoy the feeling of his fingers inside of you. "That's it, Han," you moan, your voice filled with pleasure. "Just like that."

    He starts to finger you faster, his fingers sliding in and out of you with ease.    "Han," you moan, my voice filled with pleasure. "I'm close. Don't stop."

 He doesn't. He keeps fingering you, his fingers moving faster and faster. You can feel your orgasm building up, your body tensing up as you get closer and closer. You know you wont last much longer.

"Do you deserve my cum, Han?" you asked, your voice dripping with dominance.

 Han whimpered, his eyes pleading. "Yes, pleas..please. I'll do anything for your cum."

You smirked. "Then make me cum, Han. Show me how much you want it."

Han eagerly went back to work, licking and fingering you with renewed vigor. It didn't take long for you to reach your peak, your body trembling with pleasure as you came hard on Han's face. Han eagerly lapped up every drop, savoring the taste of your orgasm.

 But you weren't done with him yet.

 'Good,' You said, your voice softening slightly. 'Now, take everything off.'

    Han hesitated for a moment, but then he began to strip, his movements quick and jerky. You watched him, your eyes taking in every inch of his naked body. You could feel the heat building between you, the tension growing with every passing second.

    When Han was finally naked,you pushed him onto his back.

    "Tell me what you want, Han," You whisper, your lips brushing against his ear.

    "I want you," he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper. "I need to be inside you, n-n-n...please."

   You can feel your own desire building again as you tease him, your fingers tracing circles around his nipples. He let out a soft gasp, his body arching towards you.

    "Please," he begs, his voice trembling. "I can't take it anymore."

    You can see the need in his eyes, the desperation for release. He's on the edge, ready to explode at any moment.

"You've been such a good boy Hannie." You say  wrapping your hand around his cock and starting to stroke him. 

"Thank you," Han gasped, his hips bucking involuntarily.

"Now it's time for your reward."

You climbed on top of him and lowered yourself onto his cock, slowly taking him inside you. You both moaned in unison, the feeling of being joined together was almost overwhelming. You began to ride him, moving slowly at first but soon picking up the pace.

Han's hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he thrust into you. The sounds of your bodies coming together echoed throughout the room, the two of you lost in a world of pleasure.

The air is filled with the sounds of skin slapping together, the two of you panting and groaning as you move together. You can feel yourself getting closer, your body tensing as the pleasure builds.

   "Fuck," You breathe, your body moving in rhythm with his. "You feel so good, Han."

    "T-Thank you," he cries out, his body moving with yours. "Harder, n-n-n...please."

You obey his request, slamming your hips down harder, making both of you moan. The air is filled with the smell of sweat and sex, the tension is thick.

You feel his cock twitch inside of you and you know he's close.

"Cum for me, Han," You breathe, your voice husky.

"I-I'm gonna- n-n-n.." he says, pushing his head back.

His hips stutter and you feel him spilling inside of you. The warmth of his cum makes you shiver, and the way his face contorts in pleasure is almost enough to push you over the edge.

almost.

His hands grip your hips as he shudders beneath you.

But you don’t stop there . You keep slamming your hips down on him, riding and riding him. You can feel the pressure building inside of you, and the sound of his groans is driving you wild.

"Please," He whimpers, his eyes pleading. He’s sensitive, having just cum.

"N-n-n.."

"Not yet," You moan, the sound of your bodies slapping together echoing throughout the room.

"I-I can't, n-n-n...please!"

The sight of him beneath you, the feeling of him inside of you is too much.

“A-ah… Fuck.. Fuck.. fuck.. fuck,” he said as he closed his eyes. “You feel so good.” 

Your pussy clenched around him and you pushed your thighs tighter together around his hips. Your fingernails dug into his chest and you made your hips keep moving, throwing your head back at the overwhelming sensations taking over your body. His whines and begs filled the room, tears filling his eyes from the overstimulation his  cock was now going through.

"You can give me one more baby" You say. " I know you can."

You felt him twitch and throb inside of you, his cock growing harder and thicker.

"Please.." he begged, his voice desperate. "I-I can't."

You didn't let up, keeping up the relentless pace as you rode him.

"Yes, you can," You urged, your voice thick with lust. "Cum for me, Han."

You slam your hips down one last time, and he loses it, his body shaking as he cums for the second time.The look on his face is pure ecstasy as he cums inside of you again. The feeling of him spilling inside of you is all it takes to push you over the edge.

You collapsed onto him, his cock still buried deep inside of you. For a moment, the two of you just lay there, panting and spent, basking in the afterglow.

After a few minutes, you rolled off him, letting his cock slip out of you. 

You glanced over at him, his eyes closed, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

“Five minutes, huh?” you teased, eyebrow raised.

Han cracked one eye open, grinning sheepishly.   "Okay, okay. So I lied. But can you blame me?"

A soft laugh escaped your lips, and the sound made his heart swell.

“To be fair,” he continued, his tone playful, “I didn’t hear you complaining.”

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his neck. “You’re lucky you’re adorable.”

“I know. And admit it—you love me for it.”He chuckled, his arms tightening around you as he pulled you even closer. “Admit it,” he pressed, a mock-serious expression crossing his face. “What would you do without your charming, distracting boyfriend?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress your smile. “I might actually get some work done,” you replied, trying to sound stern but failing miserably.

“Not a chance,” Han retorted, his voice dripping with playful confidence. “You’d miss me too much.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the stress of the day dissipating in the warmth of his embrace. Maybe, just maybe, a little distraction was just what you needed.

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo 

ઇଓ Taglist

Networks

@skzstarnet @supernovanetwork @k-labels

Permanent Taglist

@stayceebs97 @everythingboutkpop @velvetmoonlght @ririwhiskers @ch4nn13luv

@stellasays45 @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @changbiddies0325 @ayyonoona @mellhwang

@bowsnbang @theodorenottgf @jisungsbff01 @miin17 @Lyracarvahall

@sunoosfavsposts @Kayleefriedchicken @yougottobekittenme @jaiuneamesolitaiire @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad

@intrikatie @chrizzztopherbang

[pinkmalibuprincess]

I asked chat gbt to give me ways to enter both the void state or shift realities during the day. Shifting and inducing the void are not limited to when you’re sleepy. I struggle with only inducing the void during the time I go to sleep but with these possible methods I plan to induce the void or shift during the dayyy!!!

First, just so we’re aligned:

• Reality shifting usually refers to consciously moving your awareness into another reality (like a desired reality, alternate version of your life, or fictional world).

• The Void is that infinite nothingness — a dark, silent, powerful space where you can manifest instantly, heal, or shift realities easily. It’s pure awareness, no body, no mind.

Doing it during the day is a little harder because you’re not sleepy/dreamy but not impossible, it’s actually really easy! You just have to tweak your techniques for waking mind energy.

⸻

Ways to Shift or Enter the Void During the Day

⸻

Micro-Meditation Drops

• Throughout your day, practice micro-drops into stillness.

• Example: Set a timer every hour. When it goes off, close your eyes, breathe deep, and “drop” your awareness backward into your mind imagine falling backward into black velvet nothingness.

• Do it for 30–90 seconds at a time. Over the day, this conditions your mind to find the void state faster.

Think of it like “training wheels” for sudden immersion.

⸻

Saturation Method

• Focus obsessively on your desired reality or void state all day — but softly, like background music.

• Whisper affirmations like:

• “The Void is my natural home.”

• “I enter the Void instantly and effortlessly.”

• “I am already in the Void.”

• Every action you do (walking, eating, typing), imagine you’re already in your desired reality.

• This builds a saturation effect where you “tip” into the shift naturally.

You’re basically blurring the line between your normal day and the other reality.

⸻

Mirror Gazing / Daydream Gazing

• Sit in front of a mirror (or even a blank wall or window) during a sunny, sleepy part of the day.

• Stare at your reflection without blinking much, or past it.

• Relax your eyes and imagine your face isn’t “you” it’s just a mask.

• Let your mind slip into daydreaming.

• Suddenly, you may feel a “slip” — like you’re detaching from this version of yourself.

It’s like triggering a soft disassociation which can lead to a Void portal or shift jump.

⸻

Breathwork + Eye-Roll Technique

• Do slow, deep breathwork:

• Inhale 4 counts

• Hold 7 counts

• Exhale 8 counts

• After a few minutes, gently roll your eyes upward (like looking at your third eye) while staying relaxed.

• This can force your brain into a theta/void-like state even during full daylight.

• You might feel lightheaded or “floaty” — that’s a good sign you’re nearing a void pocket.

⸻

The “Already Shifted” Illusion

• Instead of trying to get somewhere, pretend you already shifted this morning and today is just a “memory” of your original life.

• Every time you remember you’re “trying,” stop and say mentally:

• “I’m just remembering the old timeline. I’m already there.”

• It tricks your brain into syncing with the new reality field without brute force.

Shifting is all about convincing your subconscious — not pushing or forcing.

⸻

Music Frequency Entrancement

• Listen to brainwave entrainment tracks (Delta waves, Void-themed subliminals, deep solfeggio frequencies like 528hz or 963hz) while doing light tasks.

• Wear headphones if you can.

• Let your mind drift while you do chores, walk, or relax in sunlight.

• Sometimes, you’ll naturally slip into a void state without expecting it.

⸻

Daytime Nap “Drop” Method

• Lie down in the afternoon with the intent to nap, but don’t fall asleep.

• Instead, keep your body completely still (like a body scan meditation) and let your mind drift without controlling it.

• If you feel your body getting heavy, floaty, vibrating, don’t move — you’re entering the threshold where void shifts and reality jumps happen.

⸻

Signs You’re Close to the Void or a Shift Mid-Day

• You feel extremely floaty or weightless.

• You hear ringing in your ears (like a frequency change).

• Time feels weird (minutes feel like hours or vice versa).

• You get “pulled” backward or inward in your mind.

• Your body feels like it doesn’t exist anymore.

[kiyawritesforf1]

THE FAN-FICTION SAGA

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

It started innocently enough. Max had never been the type to pry too much into Y/N’s hobbies. She was always so effortless and easygoing, a balance of sweet and sassy, with a warmth that made him feel at ease. But as their relationship deepened, Max started noticing something peculiar: Y/N spent an unusual amount of time reading on her phone—almost obsessively, as if there was some hidden world he wasn’t a part of.

At first, Max didn’t think much of it. She was a reader, and he’d always admired how much she loved books. But it wasn’t long before he realized that the content of her reading material wasn’t exactly what he expected. It wasn’t literature in the traditional sense—there were no classic novels or even contemporary thrillers. No, what caught his eye was the number of tabs open on her phone, filled with websites he'd never heard of, and a very specific genre: **fanfiction.**

Now, Max was no stranger to fandoms—he'd heard stories from his friends about the deep, sometimes obsessive nature of fan communities. But he had never actually met someone who was so deeply immersed in it. His curiosity got the best of him, and one lazy Sunday afternoon, he finally decided to ask.

They were lounging on the couch, sipping on coffee, the soft hum of their playlist playing in the background. Y/N had her phone in her hand, her eyes glued to the screen, a wide grin spreading across her face as she scrolled through yet another chapter of something that seemed to hold her attention more than anything else in the room.

“Y/N…” Max began, leaning over the armrest and trying to get a peek at her phone. “What exactly are you reading?”

She glanced up, her face lighting up with a mischievous spark. “Oh, just a little something.”

Max raised an eyebrow, feeling a little more intrigued than he probably should. “A little something, huh? This has been going on for weeks now. What is it? Some kind of secret novel?”

Y/N giggled, her eyes flickering back to the screen. “No, not a novel. It’s… fanfiction.”

“Fanfiction?” Max repeated, unable to suppress the confusion in his voice. “As in, like, those stories people write about their favorite TV shows or movies?”

Y/N nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! It’s amazing! You’d be surprised at how much better some of these stories are than actual TV shows.”

Max blinked, trying to process this new information. “Wait, you’re telling me you’ve been reading stories written by fans? Like… not even official writers? That’s what you’ve been so hooked on?”

Y/N shrugged, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “What can I say? They’re creative. They’re fun. Plus, there’s a certain magic to them, you know?”

Max let out a small chuckle, his mind whirring. This was definitely not what he had expected when he asked Y/N about her hobbies. “Okay, but… what’s the appeal? I mean, I get the whole escapism thing, but isn’t it kind of… well, weird?”

Y/N shot him a teasing glance, her eyes dancing with amusement. “You’re just not *getting* it. It’s not about weirdness, Max. It’s about creativity, passion, and sometimes—just sometimes—a little bit of *delusion.*”

Max blinked at the word. “Delusion?”

She nodded, her grin widening. “Yeah, like the delusional shipping, the alternate universes where the characters do things they *never* would, and the wild romantic scenarios that leave you questioning your entire life. It’s fun! It’s… it’s just the world I get to immerse myself in, you know?”

Max couldn’t help but laugh. This was not the woman he thought he knew. “So, basically, you’re living in your own fanfiction world?”

“Exactly,” she said, looking back down at her phone. “And you’re part of it.”

“Wait, *I’m* part of it?” Max asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “How?”

Y/N didn’t answer immediately. She just kept scrolling, her fingers tapping quickly across the screen. Then, she looked up at him, her eyes twinkling. “I’m reading a fic about this hot, mysterious guy who’s really into racing. I’m just saying, you might fit the role quite well.”

Max blinked, a deep blush creeping up his neck. “Wait, hold on. You’re reading fanfiction about me?” he asked incredulously.

Y/N shrugged again, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. “Maybe. Maybe not. You’ll never know.”

Max let out an exaggerated sigh, though part of him was secretly flattered. “This is… so weird. I had no idea this was such a big part of your life. I’m dating a *delusional* girl, huh?”

Y/N laughed, her voice sweet and light. “Normal girl, Max. Just a normal girl living her best delusional life. You should try it sometime.”

As Max tried to process this new layer to Y/N, he couldn’t help but feel more drawn to her. The way she embraced her passions, her quirks, without any shame or hesitation. It was charming in its own way, and honestly, kind of adorable.

But then, of course, Daniel—Max’s teammate and longtime friend—decided to pop into the conversation, his timing impeccable as always.

“Hey, I’m back from the track. What’s going on here?” Daniel asked, dropping his bag by the door and heading toward the kitchen.

Y/N grinned, clearly sensing an opportunity to tease Max. “Oh, just explaining to Max how *normal* I am. You know, reading fanfiction, living in my own little world, shipping people who don’t even exist.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow as he grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. “Fanfiction, huh? You really have him hooked on that, don’t you?”

Max, looking thoroughly exasperated, turned to Daniel. “Apparently, I’m part of some *delusional* shipping universe now. I had no idea what I was getting into.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. “See, Daniel gets it! You’re just not ready for the wonderful world of *delulu* yet.”

Max groaned dramatically. “I feel like I need a crash course or something. This is all way too much for me.”

Daniel chuckled, sitting down next to Max. “So, wait, you’re telling me you’ve been reading *fanfiction* about Max?”

Y/N’s eyes twinkled. “Maybe I’ve written a few stories here and there.”

Max turned to her, raising both eyebrows. “You’ve written fanfiction about me?”

“Maybe,” she said, her voice dropping to a mock whisper. “You’ll never know. My writing skills are top secret.”

Max shook his head in disbelief, though part of him was secretly intrigued. “I never knew dating a girl could be this complicated.”

Y/N leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “But that’s the fun of it, Max. Every day is an adventure. Who knows what you'll find next?”

As if on cue, Daniel raised his bottle in mock salute. “Here’s to being part of the delusional world. I think I’ll stay out of it, though. But, you know, if you ever want to introduce me to any of your *fanfic* buddies, I’d be happy to take a look.”

Max laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not sure I’m ready to dive that deep into the madness.”

Y/N shot him a knowing look. “You’d be surprised, Max. Sometimes the madness is exactly what makes everything fun.”

As the night wore on, the three of them continued to laugh and chat, Max becoming more and more fascinated by Y/N’s love for fanfiction and her playful, quirky nature. Despite the absurdity of it all, there was something endearing about her willingness to embrace the weird, the wonderful, and the *delulu*.

Max realized that maybe, just maybe, he had been underestimating the complexity of his feelings for her. She wasn’t just the girl he thought he knew—she was layers upon layers of passion, quirks, and humor. And he couldn’t help but fall for her even more.

As they all settled down for the night, Max looked at Y/N with a soft smile. “You know, I might just start reading some fanfiction myself. But only if I can be the ‘mysterious racer guy’ in your stories.”

Y/N grinned, her eyes lighting up. “Deal. But no promises about how romantic it gets.”

Max leaned in close, his voice low and teasing. “I’m counting on it.”

END

[writingjourney]

⛧ BERLIN RITUAL RECAP ⛧

first of thank you all for being so kind yesterday. i tried to add everything i could think of, but my brain was fairly fried and i was so incredibly immersed in the moment that i did not pay attention to every single detail. but here goes ✨

Our seats ended up being super amazing, I had a sort of steep sideways angle to the stage from Phantom’s side and except for some people around me standing to block some of the views at times it was super nice to see the whole stage and screens, we were exactly on eye level whenever they went onto the left side platform which made it all super nice and interactive

Generally, Papa was really chatty when he did speak and also was trying to engage a lot with Berlin personally, like he made many references to how the band was here before (not he himself, it is his first time of course!! which was a very fun and sort of fourth wall breaking moment) and that he enjoys Berlin and we’ve always been so good to the band

His voice to ME was veeeeery different from Copia’s especially during his first little speech, it sounded a bit higher, less cackly and more peppy, sort of. He sounded very distinct to me but I can’t really explain what exactly it sounded like, he did not make overly crass jokes like Copia but he did curse like him and he WAS hooooorny in his movements

His voice sounds incredible live, Peacefield went so incredibly hard but the crowd really popped during Lachryma, Satanized also really hit the crowd around me, as did Rats and of course the encore songs and year zero

They played Pinnacle and CMLS and seeing the propped up Papa on his little column in the back from my side by the stage was a hilarious angle of it

Priest-bias on the screen during Satanized!!

He said we are in times with a lot of turmoil and the world is not as nice as it should be, and he then said things are kind of scheiße-esque which will now forever wander into my vocabulary😭

hearing TFIAFL in East Berlin hits different, him singing about the Stasi guard while a big remaining chunk of the Berlin Wall is right across the venue did really get me

In general TFIAFL got me good, the energy was incredible and everyone in my area was belting it, I was half-crying but it was such a good, affirming feeling

Somehow I hadn’t heard that they have a lit-up Ghost logo in the background of one song, I can’t remember which one it was though but it was super cool (Luise tells me it was Squammer!)

During Ritual Papa was on our side for a bit and the hip movements were SENSUAL, I’m telling you, he also did the microphone penis bit here I’m sure

Where I sat, we got allllll the Phantom action, like SO MUCH. He was SO interactive and charming and he at some point played the guitar underneath his leg that was propped up for a pretty long time, absolutely slayed and engaged with us so much, blew kisses, had us react to specific song parts

Before Cirice he did the thing where he had each side of the crowd go loud and then quiet again, it was super entertaining and the people around me were fucking with him by whistling when he tried to get us to be quiet and he made some playfully angry gestures

I didn’t see much of the other ghouls on my side tbh but Cirrus definitely slayed once again with the solo and also I saw a lot of the ghouls interacting with each other really sweetly, getting each other hyped up

He let us sing a good chunk of DATHOML which ended up working out WAY better than I thought, usually this type of thing with Germans is very risky lol, I loved the song live, he sounded so good

The Umbra run was back for sure and it was greatly amusing

KTGG speech: He talked about how he always comes to Berlin in spring time and it makes him want to hug someone, he said he wants to hug all of us but that would just take too much time because look there are so many of us, he CAN offer us a kiss though

Also the background during KTGG with the goat/anus imagery made me cackle, but in general the backgrounds were SO nice

At some point Dew grabbed Papa’s butt and they were half-hugging while Papa praised him for playing so amazing with his broken foot

Encore bit: In a very funny mocking German accent he did the thing where he says, oh you think we’re so predictable, you think we’ll play another song!! well, we’re not like other bands, we played all our greatest hits already, we’ll play you a song that is 10 minutes long, a kind of jazz rap number, Krautrock (very apt reference for the German crowd), and he also brought the lowkey aggressive NEIN NEIN NEIN back

He said it was a school night, actually pronounced Mittwoch perfectly in German and then was mighty confused that Berlin has a holiday tomorrow, so it was in fact NOT a school night, so he asked if the crowd was fucking with him when they answered no

He also said something else in German (I think) instead of one last one up the poopchute but I did not acoustically hear it, in general sometimes when he talked I just could not make out the words

As I said in my post, after the ritual was over, I thought I’d take the chance to see if the kind security people would maybe hand me some mummy dust and I honestly kinda just forgot that papa was still doing his rounds on stage and happened to run exactly up to that barrier as he came onto the platform one or two meters away, a handful of others were standing there with me as well and he blew us kisses as he does and waved and he stayed a LONG time while we interacted back with hearts and I blew him a kiss back. He was SMILING SO MUCH. It still makes me want to cry how genuinely happy he seemed. (I did get mummy dust, luise also collected one for me <33)

Some infos about the Pop-Up store and merch etc. for those who might be wondering:

It was not close to the venue, idk if that’s the case for other cities but it was quite the annoying mid-berlin-traffic drive, so maybe plan in some extra time and check where it is if you’re not familiar with the city

Suuuuuuper kind staff, like genuinely they were so lovely and chatty (but the venue staff as well, sooooo nice which tbh in Germany is something to point out but that is my general experience in Berlin, they are lovely there)

I got the Berlin exclusive shirt but they actually ALSO had a Berlin exclusive shirt at the venue merch stall that was different (in the style of the regular tour shirts), so I actually have two versions now and both are very nice

There was this big sort of poster wall of Papa with a carpet where I think you could have taken pictures

Prices are similar to the merch at the venue I would say, only the shirt was 60€ (the shirts are 50€ at the venue) and they had a lot of bits and bots that were kinda pricy, I did not get the exclusive necklace because I don’t wear silver but it looked cool! I got a cute pin instead

They also had three different Ghost cups at the venue (which the kind staff allowed us to buy without drinks after the ritual was over) so get your drinks friends lol

[edenspoem]

stuff you up ౨ৎ

aestras thanksgiving smut special

' so who's getting stuffed, you or the turkey? '

HELP PALESTINE . DO NOT BUY TLOU2

♡. summary; fuck the festivities, who actually cares about all that sappy shit. instead, embark a newly founded festivity– fucking your girlfriend up in the dusty memory of your old bedroom~ ♡. a\n; late af as fuck but just a fun little smut, nothing too serious, a bit rushed but here y'all go ♡. CW; groping under the table, fingering (r), clit stim (r), strapping (r), horndog!ellie, dom!ellie, tipsy!ellie, risky sex (joel almost catches u), cock referred as 'her' + referred as ellies, cocktip teasing, ass grabbing, some ass smacking, some plot, jokey bickering, readers a bit bratty, a slight brat-taming moment if you squint, mouth muffling, squirting, petnames; babe, baby, babygirl, princess, good girl, (lmk if i missed anything)

♡ WC; 5.5k ♡ masterlist ♡ thanks 2 @fleshunger 4 proofreading the intro ♡

Paired minds savor the embellishing glow of lit stick candles settled before them in a ritzy manner– shedding light over plates of arraying colors. Marination that glistens, crispness that scrapes, and mushy mesas' of garlic herb potatoes that delicately slump in the cradle of a spoon. Consume with your eyes first, then your cameras– and conclusively, your rumbling tummy.��

Rather to consume what's meant to be, than to gorb the scruffy haired girl next to you– at least for now, yes? 

It's your first Thanksgiving with Ellie, being that you two only linked heartstrings this year.

You, the possibly innocent angel that you are– right now, serve clement smiles to whomever talks to you, be it Joel or some random relative who’s name only just surfed your ears this night, it doesn't matter. De rigueur, wear it well.

A baser mind– I mimic regret while telling you this– tumbles far from the garden of Eden and slips away into a daunting realm, the underworld. By under, I mean downstairs, below the button, the internals. Ellie straight up, served hot, was just bursting with hormones. The tender meat oozing with buttery slick melt fell short in maintaining the contact of those chartreuse eyes, instead, suffering the envy of them rooted to your thighs beneath the oak. 

Noses immerse themselves in salty goodness, eyes feast before gobs could, rolling molars gnaw turkey off the tines of forks, but her, her cunts' the only organ thinking right now.

Especially while seated adjacent to you, her clit was throbbing past the hard material of her jeans.

"You both settlin' in your new apartment?" Joel's bellowed drawl carries over the other muted chatter, low in the background.

"Mhm," your hum slopes and rises behind lips sealed to a glass rim, then part with a smack, "Ellie’s definitely settled more than me." ending with a giggle.

Her ear pivots from you, dirt–dappled nose at the fore, "Oh? What's that 'spose to mean babe?"

"Can't keep your hands off that shiny new Playstation, hmm?" 

"Tchh– you bought it for me." replied her with a skosh of sass.

"That I did."

"Uh–" Joel bumbles.

Els drones out, "Andd all my video games–"

"Where's my thank you?" you pout in frolick, forwarding your face for her view.

Hmph.

Her miffy eyes bounce around her skull hence to piloting back on yours, her own pout puffing, "Okayy, here," she sighs lowly, nosing her lips down to pucker a peck– smacking together.

A shared hum in approval vibrates between the bond of skin, half–approval, a kiss was meager in your book of play, and you felt particularly playful this eve.

With a finished kiss, leaves your mouth to mouth a sneaky little quip, fruitful in a whisper, "Didn't hear a thank you~"

"Hmm?"

"Els.." 

Faces still bathing in transferring warmth, her breath hitches on your mid–face, a sigh to end all worries, "You'll see, just wait." Her voice cracks a bit, silken on your ears.

Waiting wasn't even on the table. 

Not when a brawny hand suddenly gropes your inner–thigh, squeezing the fat in little wags.

Give thanks to whomever, thank fuck for being at the tables edge, where nobody else could witness this.

"Anywho–" Ellie grogs her throat clear of those debaucheries, returning to her normal seated poise, "yeah, like, we're settled– thanks for helpin' us find that place." her pitch heightens, flowing into a nosy chuckle.

"Course, kiddo." softly spoken off Joel’s sentiments, but minding less attention and returning his mouth to something more, toothsome. Foodsome.

Goddess, her grip is mighty.

Devious fingers– they found their way, quick. Fingers such as hers, waxy and pale, rigid and calloused, stamping up your hip and giving firm pressure to the bone. Knuckles flushed of pigment, they dig around the crest wanton, nudging you slightly.

"Seriously?" you spit through grit teeth, wiggling your hips in reaction.

Ellie harks your mutter, tugging those smug corners into a cocky smile as her nervy nature would plant her in, naughty–toothed smile, "Huuh?" that bastard coos, "what's wrong babe?"

"You dickhead." 

"Me, dickhead?"

"Yes, you, dickhead."

"That's a lot of dicks n' heads, what is it with you and dicks n' heads?" she creeps her face closer, squinting dumbly– which only made her onslaught of 'heads and dicks' more peeving now that you really loured at her.

Grimacing at her dense brows queller than a storm, blushy nostrils taunting in a wiggle, it subtly made sense– impish coquetry. The kind of shit you toss like a game of ball, prior to the main event. An event, to be seen.

"Why you givin' me that look, huh?" she squints lower in return, flaring her nose, "Do I have a dick for a head?" 

"I would not kiss you if that were the case," you claim advantage of her closeness and peck her goofish scowl, forcing a crescent to spry on that mouth, "Dork."

Hooks on your hip palpate harsher on the jut, her thumb swiping where the cushion and your butt cleft. Pressure given, when words pique her interest.

"Babe," Els murmured with fry in her chords, "d'ya want it?"

"It?" you gulp.

"Mhm.." thrummed she, eluding, "c'mon, you know.." said with that chilling husk, whew.

Okay, maybe it's clearer–than–a–midsummers–noon clear, that Ellie was a tad tipsy. Pink worm of hers just couldn't resist the samplage of some bourbon, sweet oakey notes that evoke memories of bourbon skies hence, quite the beautifying thought. Skies where you play a shrouded silhouette to her line of sight, tapping thumb to chin in ponder. Ponder, pondering.. for what were you pondering those sunsets?

Yet now you lacked a ponder on whatever the hell she was hinting to, only for it to ferment suddenly.

"Ellie, what are you on–"

"My fingers," a blurt wets her whistle, cocking her head dear to your poor ear, "do you want.. my fingers– in.." you feel her dual digits dive in the crevice of your thigh and groin, curling snugly.

"Ellie.." you hiss, pinching your brows in honest bewilderment.

Her pinkie roves over the bulge of your crotch and punctures the inseam right above your clit, stinging the little bud– which throbbed at her press.

"Do you?" her breath wanes, speech sedated with the aim of persuading you.

Contemplation was considered– maybe too carefully, maybe not. Problem one, legitimately most if not all of your family was within spitting distance of you, but on the other hand, the gutsy hand, weighed her offer slacker than a greedy businessman. In precis, her puppy eyes of coveted sanction, rears triumph. Dickhead.

A caught gulp squeezes down your gullet, puffing your chest out, "Mhm.." 

"Okay.. mhh–" she giggles with husk, creasing up as her lithe fingers trace and wrest your fly open, skulking her hand beneath the hood, "Just focus on dinner baby, I got this.." wisped soft, kindred to cashmere.

The unyielding stretch of your denim fastens around your hips in the act of her palm ramming inside, yanking you forward. Pursing your lips in elated exhales, you try, try to winch meat to mouth and void the tamping of your clit, try as you might– the pleasure is dire.

Ellie’s prints depress a lewd discovery, the stub of her smaller knuckle thickens itself in leaky panty, secreting from your eager hole. A discovery, worth a hushed gasp, "Ooh? Wet already babe? God damn.."

"Shut.. up.." choked you, only reaping a laugh from her.

"Fuck, I do all this?"

"Duh."

"Hehe– fuck that's hot.."

She withdraws her fingers half–way, to slither them under your panties. And without a foraged bit of foreplay, dilates your labia with her furled digits loading inside of you.

A squishy nub brushes your sweet spot.

Your pipes in turn swell with sharp intake, wall of your throat cooling instantly. Fuck, bona fide fuck. Enormously fucked when her pumps wreak gentle squelches from your dewy core.

"Jesus, mhphh.." a gruff of air susurrus from her, starkening her torso in an 'appeasingly normal' angle so she may, blend in, bemusing your mother with small–talk, "So, d'you always have a gathering this big on Thanksgiving?"

Out of all people, really, Els? 

She indulges with a smile, purely answering, "Oh yeah, every year– whole family, too many relative I suppose." fading erratically into a giggle.

"Heh– ‘least you got a big house, shitt– I mean," In spite of sounding casual, slips into a grit curse when your wet walls clench her in, "–dang, what I wouldn't give to live here, right babe?"

A mere butt of her elbow nearly dips you into the waters of appearing– deviant of natural, those slender digits, twisting a tender knot inside. She pumps at a canter, lesser than brisk, swifter than a slug. Beat, beat, beat to your g–spot, akin to the pitter, pitter, pat of your whizzing heart.

"Y–yeah, soo jealous, even though I did as a kid.." laughing it off awkwardly, a bask of 'Please let that be the only time I talk.' relief uplifts your sunk gut, momentarily.

"You still eating well livin' on your own?" your mother queries, tuning that time–old maternal charm.

"I mean, d–decent, enough–"

Ellie thrusts her fingers faster, fashioning a trickle of ooze to froth out onto your underwear. Pacified by the sensations, you clamp tighter, knocking a winded hitch to your staggering speech. Fucking inconvenient. Olives of her eyes binge a glint so bawdy, yet inlaid in a bad case of puppy–face, bullshit purity on her glossy lips. She knew the consequences, and consumed them like nothing.

"Pshh– decent? Babe, please, I'm like the microwave master!" exclaimed she, feigning a biggety tone atop her rasp.

You scoff, "Ah–" shuffling your thighs in light see–saw motions, "again, decent."

The knot squeezes as she finger–fucks the tranquility of mind from your pussy, staring knives at you when her supple thumb drags your clit in flicks.

"Sure it's not good?"

"Mh–mh.."

"Like, really good?"

No way she was referring to the microwave meals anymore.

Your mother intrudes softly, "Honey I can start bringin' you my homemade food if it's not–"

"It's okay, she's just playin' around–" Ellie replies before a vowel can flutter your lips, proceeding to eye–fuck you with a smug visage, "she loves my cooking." she rasped, eyes slimly showing.

All you can spotlight on is her gropey hands, jerking you like some toy, it felt too fucking good. Too pleasant to snuff, too divine to scold, exhilarating to your veins sore with salaciousness. Then, you route back to a ponder, what more could she stipulate? 

"M' gonna go to the bathroom," you swat her hand out and jostle your fly up, netting a coo of amusement from Ellie– secretly.

"You good babe?" she vocalizes after, keeping her pussy–prune digits free of smear.

"Come with me." purred you, hoisting from the oaken chair.

Ellie's lids arise with tangible hots– an aphrodisia densely potent of kindiling her eyes. No anointing of sanctity will ripen her intentions, nor anchor the even throb of her cunt. For a throb is a hymn, to you. She wants you, and she's going to have you. Moments and minutes hence, falter to compare in energy.

Cue her cheek pleating smile.

"Okay–" a light snort prances off her open lips, whirling her lap aside to skim through the tight wedge and stumbling to you, "which bathroom we doin'–"

"Just follow me," your voice aspires over, cusping your hand and snagging her calloused ones in the curve of it, "gonna' show you somethin'."

"Heh–" she chuckles dryly, tailgating with a gentle pull of your forearm.

You two whip around a door nook, glide through the foyer and advance upon a staircase. Your cotton–clad heels stroke wood planks beat by beat, soft wallops that carom off skyscraping maroon wine walls. Ribbons of lunar light dangle on and off your heads, crafting gauzy shrouds that mix and mingle off the corners with a bobbing ascent. Every wall laid reminiscent of a ritzy manor, a lacquer of lavish. 

The flight of stairs then ingress into a much thinner hall, in a much quainter space, and fitted to each doors awaiting enigma. Duller light spills through, glossing the path you took towards a fawny brown door– your bedroom.

Ellie espies the cleave of an abutting door, aiming a bead on with her index, "Wait– isn't that the–"

"Shh," you gingerly rustle air on locked teeth, shifting your arm towards the gilded rotund knob and twining with metal clicks and clacks, "bathroom was just a cover up."

"Oh~" 

"Hmm hm~" you kittenly croon.

The barrier pendulates sideward from your stride, only to be elbowed soundly back to a wisping shut.  You pinch the little knob's notch and, click, lock the door. An amused flit of breath pours from her agape lips, catching your wordless gist bereft of another second.

Ellie thrums that same old rasp, sweetening you up, "Real smooth babe, takin' us up here.." her feet coast her closer to you, kitty–cornering you to a rearwards stumble.

Plaster bumps, a welting sharp ridge– they trench in your ankle and up as your calves butt the wall, inevitably backed up. Trapped, positively trapped. 

"Well–" a scoff enlightens your latter words, "couldn't just stay there with you two fingers deep, hm?" and your 'hm' asks for her agreement, pitch yawing.

"Was 'gonna make it three, but.." 

"But?"

Her head shrouds yours in a gray penumbra, orangey–tint nose a scant whisker from brushing yours, and sends you into a conundrum with a mere utter, a tepid utter, "got uhh', something better for you." tying off with a willed lip bite.

"Oh really?" you moon with pep, hooking a calf around hers.

She smokily coaxes, "Fuck yeah– look." her knotty digits then cruise around her hips, meeting at her denim zipper and tugging that metal tab down. Fleeting as starlight, she thumbs the belt–band and chucks her jeans just beneath the ruck of her asscheek, chafing fabric to fabric with her lax boxers.

A lone brow quirks, expressing the fact that with the way she juts hers hips forward and palms her crotch weirdly– it reared too obvious, "Ellie, don't tell me–"

A springy mass wiggles against the front inseam, held in her teasy tauty grip– veins popping of course, "Tell youu whaat?" her words muff in hoarse laughter.

"Baby.." you exhale, adjoining a whiny moan. Ellie's such a goofy tease.

That simple mass in her crotch, was a sign– a clear, lucid, taintless and foretelling, that you were getting stuffed like a turkey tonight.

In counter, her exhale fuses with yours in dancing particles, so gentle, finer than purity made flesh, "Babe.." and such gentleness caresses your ears, a pureness forgotten in those divinity forsaken puppy eyes– pout moist.

You can't rend your pupils elsewhere, trapped like mice, you gape with encroaching arousal dowsing out your nerves– and drenching down below. Markedly, where you gaze now– her fingers tug the waistband down, exposing the bulbous green head of her cock in her boxers tight band, barely, literal orb of luster dabbled on the tip.

Now your eyes truly cannot escape.

Cotton tenderizes in lines around the bulge, her hand stroking above the shape. And the way you stare, fucks her mind good, speaking throatily, "God," a gulp bubbles, "can't stop starin' hmm?"

"Hehe– couldn't help but wear it?" you snap back.

"Yes ma'am," said off a grunt, pushing said bulge to your curious hand, pleading for a rub, "you gonna' suck her?" soothing is her tone, a breathless moan.

You coo, "Want me to?" and weasel your palm in circles, watching her pelvis follow.

"Uh'huh babe– mhh, need it.." she rolls the hem of her shirt up to her ribs, flaunting that strapping waist– perfectly toned.

Appetent with sure appetite, you nod, a nod that tows her lids down, down.. down, till the green born of her eyes rely on a thin horizon hawkeyeing you. A sliver of sparkle, eager in you. It only takes you dual bends of the knees, stamping chiffony flesh to cold oak and your fingers tucking in her underwear– to excite Ellie.

"Yeah, m'gonna suck her, suck that cock." you mouth in broken vowels, steeping breath on her firm navel pouch.

"Fuck.." she nimbly grunts and tosses her head back, tightening skin on the jounce of her adams apple, swallowing.

Giving tender pressure on her boxers, you slither them netherward until they sojourn atop her bunching jeans fixed above the knee. You swear, those quads of hers clench at your brushing touch, causing your sights to skip up on that dangling cock. Wow. The fat head pokes your nose–tip, curbing up as she cradles its silicone girth to palm.

"Hold uh'," what you expected to be 'up' erupts as a tiny grunt snuffing, eyeing her other hand concealing her lips with a muffled 'puh' to top, "there we go." that hand draws down to smear her spit along the length, squelching mildly.

"Mhh–" you hum shorn of audible sound, batting keen breath on her strap, "–so big.."

You tell her that, everytime. And everytime, she revels in that negligible fact, shutting her eyes in skin–sheathed darkness– pinpointing on how too–too hot that seems. And the way you say it? Oof.

Ellie tacks five fingerprints on your head's crown and coaxes in flits of force, easing you on, "My god, babygirl– oooh.." she relishes an oval–mouthed moan, watching your lips wrap her cockhead.

And it's warmer than anything you've gobbled so far this eve.

Balming a heat like that, tucked in her boxers so neatly and snug– it tickles your gums. Soft and pliant, your lips are, they crease and roll under as you swallow her in, impressing a pit on your tongue when they meet.

"Hhmmm.." you moan a mouthful on the frothed up silicone, dragging your lips back over to motion a bounce of your head.

"I know~" she coos to your bumble, pucking her hips with an equal piston to her pelvis, "them' lips feel goood– fuuckkk.." as if you can feel them, dork.

You clasp her thickness in hooks of your tongue, sending splotches and globs of spit to pool around your oval–ringed mouth, courtesy of her tip bumping your throat in, "Guh- guh, guh, guhh–" prods. 

Ohh, that birdsong. The quaffing of your vocal bands subject to her humps, producing a rhythmic beat to alight her hormones. Your song worthy of hearing. You wimp the swelling sink that her nails wreak, a flicker between cuspate tapering and a meek love– a calling for more.

Enlighten me a morsel of those twisted, dirty thoughts, auburnhead devil.

Leathery wads of her free digits roam hot on your pulping cheeks, chiseling out as you suck. Her fingers then find themselves arcing a tuck behind your ear, thumb printed to your temple. A dash of encourage, she presses, a truer than blue visage, she contorts ran by pleasure. Squelch, suckle, drag spit, and repeat.

Due to your stretching spread of lips taking her well, likeness of a blockade in your mouth, you couldn't speak. Obviously. So over the wish–wash of saliva, Ellie tunes you in with her filthy comments.

"Suckin' my filthy cock.. fuck–" she pauses with a gruff moan, baking in your brain deep, "gonna' make me cum so goood–" her vowel strains, clenching her pussy lips around nothing except the cool, cruel air, "yes.." 

A reed of cold nips your chin, seconds hence realization settles; you're getting sloppy. A manifestation of Els actually fucking your noggin to slosh, wouldn't spark surprise if liquid poured from your cranium at this point.

Her own arousal rots you further down, too.

With the feeling of her cock climbing near hellward down your throat, smacking on the gummy walls, and the husk her moans endure, crucifies your pussy with an ache of want. Fabric of your jeans suffers a beat, your clit, throbbing. It hurts so good and it stings so right, so tight, you need her now.

A faster bob you give, the more Ellie can't take it either. 

"Babe–" she hawks out, but fails to halt your bopping movements, "babe, fuck–" the digits parked behind the conch of your ear skip and push your jaw up, staking her cock out with a spring. 

"Ghh– schhlp, huh?" a chuck of spit muddled your words, unfurled tongue lapping up every web left by your messy, messy mouth.

Nook of her hand like a cusp to your jaw, she beckons you with a nudge, and rasps, "Up– c'mon, n'turn that ass around." 

Ass. Something about that word reverberated in you, bothered you hotly, made a tepidness leak from your cheeks. The rasp she rung it with, eyeing you with twin fern flames for irises– an approaching engulfment to marry your skin with ashen blessing, more consuming. Ass, Ash, haha.

A flutter in your hips spreads like fire across your legs. It weakens the muscle you bend, standing upright challenged resemblant of a feat, especially when Ellie's grabby gropes found purchase in the crevice of your hips, spindling you on a quick axis. It wanes the composure you hold like a goblet, dwindling to shattered shards across the floor, primarily as those bedeviled claws slot under rough woven denim and remove them false of trouble and trick– ruching to nothing at the root of your ankles.

Where happy hubbub clamors downstairs, pleased pandemonium moans upstairs.

A jut of two knobby hip bones thump into each asscheek, denting the skin into a gully. Warmth, a ligature of it rides through your backside, making you shake. Not like her hands would let you tremble, one being so immovably returned to your hip.

"Fuuck that pussy 'been waitin' for me, huh? Can just tell.." mumbles her with vocal fry, pupils ogling bare of shame at your cinched folds, clasping nothing.

"Your fault."

"Oh really?"

"Mhm.." you hum timidly.

"Gonna call me dickhead again, or–" a fat ball teases the dripping lips of your pussy, spreading them slightly and sloshing the skin around, "Is this enough?"

To give way, was a mistake, buckling your pelvis deeper on her cock which faces a grip ardent to shaft– teasing with rolls of her wrist. The cockhead, or literal dickhead, warps and smooshes against your clit as she toys with it. A whiny, "Huuh– Els.." mangles in your larynx, pitching.

"Yeah, you like that? Know you do." that damned smirk lives in her curving tone, sweet with a dash of tang. Her cock dilates your delicate folds further, exposing the velvet flesh to cold air and an intrusive visit. 

Your fiendish pussy kisses her cocktip and ceases its movement, clamping her in place, whimpering, "Mhh, ahh– ah.." 

"Hey, 'lemme go– was just getting started babe," she laughs crisply, landing a fine plume touch to your ass, "c'mon.. loosen up.."

A flux of slacken tires the muscles that clamp her in, hugging your entrance more softly around her tip.

Ellie winches weight on her knees, crouching her groin into you with a slow swerve, "There we go.." she purrs with tension in her tune, relieving a sigh when her cock pops in silkenly.

You seize up, gasping sharply, hips begging to break brittle in her grasp of iron– but iron does not deform easily. Pressure stays pressured, and digits knurl over the hill of your hip bone to prop it upright. With walls expanded on her cock like your pussy was made for her, it humbles you, belittling you to sludge in her metal caress.

"Fuuckk yeah–" she broadens her sigh of bliss, abrading on the 'K', like a crackle. Pleasure kills neutrality in the smoothest way, gathering grooves in her forehead, "y'feel so warm baby.. mhmm–" 

"That's not even your dick.." you half–way give a giggle, suppressing the moans you choke up.

A tense whistle of air sounds from Ellie's nose, a reaction of vague irritation, "Swear to god.." her tongue smacks after and a sudden thrusting of her fat cock catches your mind astray, winding those choked moans out. 

"Uhn– uh fuck, huhh–" you babble.

"Not my dick huh? Who's fucking you? Tell me, fuck– yeah?" Her words warble where skin smacks, wetness palping in obscene squelches. 

Does she really expect you to answer when her cock continually swells your cunt and abuses your g–spot? Yeah. Ellie will fuck the answer from one hole to the other, if she so feels compelled to.

But of course, you don't answer.

"Baaabeee," she taunts, "baabyyyy," and tortures, "who she getting fucked by right now, tell mee.." and fucks, cooing purer than vernal spring washed in the rain, mushing globs of pre–cum all over your cervix.

"Y-you.."

"That's right."

This feels almost violating to your vagina, to be stuffed like this. Did she size up? Get a new strap? Whatever the case presents itself as, it felt fucking good. Made you woozy, each bop she played like a drum on your sore ass, summoning a white ring of creamy sap to veil around her cock's girth. White droplets failed to envelop her cock, though, each jiggle of your muck bodies lashing beads of it onto the oak boards, your thighs, her pretty auburn bush, etcetera. Attempting to grab the wall, duh– that fails, then you scramble jittery digits across said wall, awkwardly finding a rigid door trim to grasp at long last– speak of the devil, Ellie laughs at that.

"Haha– aww, too big for you princess?" she utters to you like a dumbass, ego brimmed with the pumps her cock skids on your gummy walls, smirking with thinned lips.

Vulnerability loathes humility, "Fuck y–you."

"Sure."

Her perception of sight, harboring verdancy, drops low to your bulging hole that swallows her good– as you should, tender milk that pools inwards as she slides out, and froths a flood of slick when she humps it back to the same hole it spilled from. 

Might she indulge more sampling?

Ellie's hell–sworn index traces your swelling folds mellowly, togging a cap of pearly cum on her finger pad. Scrutinize, then she licks. Her peach lips kiss her finger softly, puckering wrinkles as she sucks the sleek off, "Sssmhpt–" her lips zip, "yeah–ha, that's what 'm taking about–" delighted, she is.

The knot in your womb begins to coil and fill, a rapturous sting impaling inside. Your folds, springing on her friction, sends a ripple to fluctuate in your ass cheek. Enticing. So enticing, Ellie grabs a handful, bloating fat strokes of your buttcheek between the webs of her delirious fingers.

"Ghh– yes.. yes–" she growls, deep in her lungs. The harness in return rubbed her clit in all the right ways, electrocuting her legs with a twitch, "arch that bsck f'me baby, c'mon– arch on my fuckin' cock–" 

Harking her, you heed. Heed with a convex draw of your back, protruding your ass out for her messy usage. That– that was the last straw, her only straw. You being so keen. Something less than a mutter of, "Good girl." was the last audible voice you could pick up, her game swapping to a faster ramming into your sloppy pussy.

"Ellie!" you wince, praying on a star, "So g–good.." you gape and fall forward, smearing slobber on the drywall.

Her cock was too much. 

A tear soaked upon that very wall, gifting it a taste of your salty heaven.

"Mhmm– god, fuck fuck fuck! You're so good, s'good t'me.." a breath shuddered, she limps forward onto you. Her pale hips still punishing with a litany of humps, now scores deeper on your gushy cervix, her drenched chest marking hot on your clothed back.

"Needa' cum– Els, babe.." why you were even asking, might flummox a future specter of yourself– purling on her thickness, feeling the endless tension pull from you in strings of cum, kissing the head of her cock, you were on the train track to cumming already. Dumbified questions really egged Ellie on, luckily.

"Yeah baby, want'chu to– all over her, she needs it, mhm–" she assures you, two foam–spit lips stamping your lobe, "feel that baby?" her elbow mounts like a belt to your hip crest, ducking under and tamping your womb, palm to pudge, and intones, "She's so fucking deep– shit.." 

Spade of her cock punching your walls, over and over, you finally snap. The added hand to your belly, sought it done. Done well, pronto. 

You convulse in tight vices to squeeze her dick, orgasm shaking you to the literal core, "Huunhh– Ellie, Els! Ssuhh– Ell–" a clammy paw wedges your mouth from splitting the walls with your uproar, fingers tender on your lips cushion.

"Shh– shh.. not so loud babe, take it easy–" snuffing you, she talks clemently, little grunts detailing you on how close she was, too, "that's it.. don't hold back baby– uh, fuck."

Her cock fucks you just right, blows you fried so easily, with every heavy lunge– you weep.

A pang twisting inside averts a sightly gaze to the beautiful coastline of darkness, pure oblivion. Fuzzy dollops of faded splotches prance your vision like a sick joke, mocking your high. You can't even croak, not even a peep, just sit back and let cum dribble from your hole, plashing her filthy cock in a sick mess.

Right on a dream–like cue, a snarled groan mauls from the deepest depth of her diaphragm, fresh on your ear, "Ghhodd– fhmm, good fuckin' pussh– mhh!" 

Splash.

Her lids squinted tight, nose flared wide, she came. In waterfalls you couldn't observe, but swore you heard. A geyser to the floor, hyaline ribbons of her precious flavor taint the floor so disgustingly, so vividly, it shines.

Guess the wine loosened both of her lips.

She usually does not cum like that.

Damn.

Muggy exasperation fans your neck in ghostly hands that wrap, a recalescent mist baying for some kind of relief in dramatic swells and shrinks her chest pushes into you. Then, something moreso flobbed, a chuckle.

"Heheh–" her fingers slip from your lax lips, tapping kittenly on your chin.

"That's was, mhh– um–" you huff, dead of air just like her.

"Good?"

"Yup, just– couldn't.. oof.." 

Her lips purse and plant a kiss to your scruff, grinning against the flesh, "Did good for me," moist smacks besmirch further, rasping, "felt so good t–"

A beating of hardy steps peals through the door's underside, sending a wash of shock over both of you abruptly.

"Fuck." Ellie's voice muffles sotto voce, darting grips to your folded hips, thumbs tacking on the streched knoll your ass provided.

You perk your ears in tune of this noise, gut instinct curls and kicks your body to move, bucking back on Els– who mind you, was still sheathed inside you.

That knocked another grunt from her, "Hmmph– don't do that– god, babyy.." she whines, runting back into you.

Hole stuffed back up, you clench your fists into a ball. This idiot.

"Ellie? You in there?" A familiar, dense, Texan drawl aptly known as Joel's, beacons from beyond the door.

That's bad.

"Shit what do I–"

"Get off, for onee–" a tense on your chords, you huff, bucking her muck sweat thighs off your hind and skidding out her cock pronto. The sudden emptiness was jarring, but, no time to waste.

"Fuck! Again–" she hisses.

You crouch your bare bum inches from the floor and swoop up the pooling pile of denim and cotton panties, rearing them up and fiddling with the metal button. Ellie followed suit, the best of her abilities– sex really fogs up her faculties, and pressed her cock plumb to her stomach as to tuck it properly her boxers, letting the band snap in place on waist– gently.

Triple knocks erupt, and then his bellow, "Kiddo?"

"We're good, we'll be down!" she calls back, eyes far from not studying your scurrying silhouette, just has to comment, "–fuck that ass." like she wanted more.

A grumbled 'Hmm' vibrates on the oak, trailed by fleeting footsteps that trudge away, thump, thump– you get it.

"Oh?" you kink your whisper, foxily, "second rounds?" and pivot around to face her.

"Mphht– not what I meant, dickhead." her voice deepens weirdly at the brink her sentence plonked upon, cocking her head with a smirk.

"Whatever." your eyes roll, capering off the room's corners.

"Hmph–" gruffed in amusement, "Cutie." gingerly steps huddle you right against that wall again, two biceps meeting warmth–to–warmth with your soaken shirts waistline.

Scoff, just scoff, "I think this is how second rounds start, liar." 

She goes all bumbly, furrowing those bushy orange brows and frisking her eyes in a roll, copycat, "Don't get me started, pleasee." she begged fakely, cadence dense.

"Too late."

"You're right." her lips, wisp to yours so perfectly timed, interlocking one pink bud under your top lip and butting noses, plushing together in tide. Even plopped a little smack to the clad meat of your ass, how sweet.

A scant hint of dinner lingered on her breath, passed to you like a spill. Makes you want to slink those stairs in one go for a different palate of seconds. But, alas, you two bet smooches on the hope of no further interruptions, scarfing up kisses like hungry dogs.

(pls lmk if u wanna be added to the perm list, some mentions didnt work!)

@whore4abby @aouiaa @ellieslittlewhore @baumbii @tlougrl @mina-281 @beabeebrie @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf @nicolicht @cosmikoo @xinyaya @sawaagyapong @reinersbigolboobies @brunettedolls-blog @syrenada @fairyysoiree @p4ison1vy @nil-eena @hi2647 @disaster-bi-suki @rarestdoll @narieater @hrtmal @eudaemoniaaaa @ellie-07063 @luvfaeri @carleenaelaine @kissyslut @ellieswh0r3 @beemillss

[aventurineswife]

Ok I was thinking of something silly—

So, Reader is an Amphoreus native, but they’re also a draconic being disguising themselves as a human, very much like Dan Heng. (I was binge-reading classical myth stuff and this was partially inspired by it.)

Anyway, Reader, while living in Okhema, is also a veterinarian also researching chimeras. (The new little cat critters with horns, look up the tag hsr chimera if you don’t know what I mean, they’re SUPER cute!!) While treating a chimera that had gotten injured during a mishap, said chimera escapes and takes off into the marketplace with Reader chasing after it.

Dan Heng is in the area learning about customs from the locals when the chimera suddenly climbs up his leg and back to hide under his coat, and he probably screams and drops whatever he’s holding, more so out of shock; and Reader shows up to try and pry the critter off of him while apologizing for the trouble. (Trailblazer is NO help here, instead choosing to record the whole fiasco for the rest of the Astral Express crew to laugh at later.)

And once the chaos is over and the chimera is treated, Reader and Dan Heng finally get a good look at each other…and a good sniff discretely because ✨ d r a g o n s ✨ and their instincts.

From outside POV they’re just standing in place averting their gazes from each other while sneaking glances, but almost nothing gets past the Trailblazer lol.

Reader: 😳 (He’s handsome…and he smells nice.)

Dan Heng: 👀 (They’re pretty…and they smell nice.)

Trailblazer: 😑 (Are they really sniffing each other? In public?? IN FRONT OF MY FRUIT SALAD???)

Familiar Strangers

Summary: In the bustling marketplace of Okhema, you—a draconic being disguised as a human—chase after a mischievous Chimera that escapes your arms. The chaos ensues when the creature climbs up Dan Heng’s leg and hides under his coat, prompting an awkward and hilarious encounter. As you apologize for the trouble, the two of you exchange an unexpected connection, only for the Trailblazer to capture the moment for later amusement. Amidst the humor, a subtle and intriguing bond begins to form, bringing both of you closer through shared instincts and silent understanding.

Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Draconic Reader, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Awkward Moments, Humor, Quiet Connection.

Warnings: Mild humor, Awkward situations, Minor embarrassment, Slight tension (romantic).

It was another bustling day in Okhema, the marketplace filled with vendors and visitors alike. You, an Amphoreus native and a draconic being disguised as a human, were making your way through the streets with an injured Chimera in tow. The small-shaped creature, with its rounded body and bright eyes, was squirming in your arms. Its fur fluffed out around its legs, its small spiraled horn gleaming under the sun.

“Hold still, little one,” you murmured, trying to keep the squirming Chimera calm as you carefully examined its leg. You’d just finished treating the small creature’s injury, but now it was proving to be quite a handful. “You’re lucky this is just a scrape.”

Suddenly, with a burst of energy, the Chimera wriggled free from your grip, scampering off across the cobbled marketplace.

“Oh no!” You cursed under your breath, abandoning your medical bag and chasing after it. The little creature darted between stalls, zigzagging through the crowd as if it knew exactly where it was going.

As you pursued the elusive critter, you saw someone ahead—a tall, quiet figure observing the market customs from the side. Dan Heng, of course, you thought to yourself. Always in the background, always observing, and never fully immersed in the chaos of the world around him.

But today, it seemed, he was about to become an unwilling part of it.

The Chimera, in its frantic sprint, leapt up onto a nearby stall and straight into Dan Heng's path, climbing up his leg with all the grace of a creature that had clearly done this before. Dan Heng’s eyes widened in shock as the Chimera made its way up to his shoulder and disappeared beneath his coat with a loud, startled scream. The sound echoed through the marketplace, and a few heads turned in surprise.

It was then that you finally caught up to him, panting lightly. “I am so, so sorry!” you apologized, reaching up to gently pull at the hem of Dan Heng's coat, trying to pry the Chimera out. “It’s a mischievous little thing, I swear.”

Dan Heng froze, clearly flustered, his face turning slightly pale as his hand instinctively went to his coat. “What—?” His voice barely escaped in his usual calm, collected tone, but it was evident he was taken by surprise.

You chuckled nervously, the Chimera making small noises inside Dan Heng’s coat, clearly content in its new hiding spot. “You’re a good sport about this,” you said softly, trying to avoid eye contact. “They’re just... really excitable.”

The Chimera, apparently sensing the calm, poked its little head out from beneath the coat’s folds. It gave a small squeak and looked up at Dan Heng with big, wide eyes. It was hard not to feel an immediate connection with such an adorable creature, even if it was causing chaos.

Meanwhile, the Trailblazer stood off to the side, the camera in hand, recording the entire scene with a bemused grin. “This is going to make for great footage,” they muttered to themselves, already planning the inevitable teasing later.

With a bit of careful maneuvering, you finally coaxed the Chimera back into your arms. Dan Heng let out a sigh of relief, though his cheeks were faintly flushed. "I... was not expecting that," he admitted, his usual stoic demeanor cracked for a moment.

"I'm sorry again," you said with a sheepish smile, your hand awkwardly brushing your hair. "This little one does have a tendency to escape."

You both fell into a quiet moment, the commotion of the marketplace fading around you. You stood just a little too close, the air thick with the lingering scents of the day, yet there was something unspoken between you. A subtle, unacknowledged recognition.

Without thinking, you inhaled deeply, your instincts flaring—your draconic senses picking up on something unexpected. The air smelled... comforting. There was something familiar about it, though you couldn't quite place it. Dan Heng, for his part, was standing a bit too still, though you noticed his eyes flickering toward you briefly, before darting away.

His gaze met yours once more, this time a little longer, and you both seemed to freeze in place for just a second.

Dan Heng’s thoughts mirrored your own. There was something... strangely comforting about your presence. You smelled... like something familiar. Like home. His heart, however, did not want to acknowledge this feeling, so he let his gaze shift away once more, but his mind lingered on the inexplicable sensation.

Meanwhile, the Trailblazer, ever the observant one, tilted their head, watching the subtle exchange between the two of you. "Uh... are you two really sniffing each other out in public?" they asked, voice filled with unrestrained amusement. "In front of my camera?!"

Both you and Dan Heng jerked your heads in unison toward the Trailblazer, suddenly realizing what was happening. You both tried, and failed, to suppress the faint blush creeping up your necks.

"It's not—" You stammered. "We weren't—"

"Shush," Dan Heng muttered, looking as cool and detached as always, though there was an edge to his voice that made you both know he was flustered too.

The Trailblazer only smirked, clearly enjoying the moment. "You two are so obvious. You know that, right?"

You looked back at Dan Heng, your heart suddenly racing. This was the first time you'd allowed yourself to notice the way your dragon instincts were reacting to another. Yet, the more you stood there, the more you realized how similar you were. Both of you hiding behind false facades, both carrying burdens from a past you'd rather forget.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you both shifted your gaze away, pretending the moment had never happened. The Chimera in your arms squeaked, its small horns twitching in the breeze as it tilted its head at you curiously, as if it, too, had sensed the connection.

"Well," you murmured softly, your voice barely a whisper. "It looks like you're okay now, little one."

Dan Heng nodded, his stoic expression slowly returning, but there was something different about him now. The distance between you both had shifted. And for the first time in a long while, both of you could sense the quiet bond forming between you.