#a room that it's easy to move all the stuff away from in front of and clear a spot and like hang up fabrics or whatever but still.. hmms

[itsaintmebabe]

close enough

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ chapter five !

summary: vi's subtle longing for y/n grows with each lingering moment, and when their playful teasing takes an intimate turn, a sudden interruption leaves their connection unspoken but undeniable.

pairing: hockey player! vi x sports med trainer!fem! reader

notes: im loving building up the tension sm but i promise more couply stuff soon!! comment or message me if you wanna be added to the taglish and let me know how you guys are feeling about the story!!! <3

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ chapter six / series masterlist

The next few weeks passed with a rhythm that felt suspiciously like routine. Vi found herself waiting for moments with Y/N, not always deliberately, but somehow always lingering near the sports med room longer than necessary or cracking jokes that earned her soft laughs and those quick, fluttery glances she couldn't stop thinking about.

Their conversations were easy, more comfortable now, toeing the line between casual and something more. Their teasing had developed its own language, one that made Y/N’s stomach twist in that dangerous, excited way. The touches lingered a little longer, the glances held a little too long, and neither of them seemed eager to put distance between them.

Vi had a habit of getting her hands wrapped before every practice, always had, but it was never Y/N who did it. Not because she didn’t want to, but because Vi seemed to have made it a routine with another med staffer. Still, Y/N was always nearby, sometimes organizing supplies or tending to other athletes, always exchanging words with Vi, their voices laced with unspoken undercurrents.

Today was different.

Y/N was alone in the sports med room, cross-legged on one of the padded tables, a thick book splayed open on her lap. Her highlighter danced across the page, her brow furrowed in focus, lips slightly parted in concentration. She looked peaceful, tucked away from the cold buzz of the rink outside. Unaware of the pink-haired girl standing at the doorway.

Vi leaned against the frame, her arms crossed lazily over her chest as she watched Y/N, a slow smile creeping onto her face. She liked seeing her like this, absorbed, unguarded. Something about the way Y/N moved when she thought no one was watching made something in Vi’s chest ache in the best way.

“Careful,” Vi finally called out, breaking the silence. “You're gonna burn a hole through that page with how hard you’re staring.”

Y/N startled slightly, looking up with a breathless laugh and rolling her eyes as she set the highlighter down. “Maybe if you stared at your playbook half as much, your coach wouldn’t be so stressed all the time.”

Vi chuckled, stepping into the room. “Wow. Harsh today, huh? Remind me to bring you a coffee before I ask you for anything next time.”

Y/N smirked, sliding the book shut. “You always ask for something anyway. What is it today, tape, ice, emotional support?”

Vi moved closer now, her steps unhurried. “None of the above,” she said, voice softer now. “Well… maybe a little support. Think you could wrap my hands today?”

The shift in her tone wasn’t lost on Y/N. Her teasing smile softened into something quieter, more intimate. “Of course,” she said, hopping down from the table. “Just give me a second.”

She moved around the room with practiced ease, gathering the supplies. Vi sat on the padded table where Y/N had just been perched, spreading her legs a bit to make room.

Y/N returned, stopping in front of her and taking Vi’s hands gently in her own. Her fingers were careful, focused, but Vi noticed the slight tremor in her touch, the way her thumb grazed Vi’s palm like she was afraid of holding on too tight, but didn’t want to let go either.

“Didn’t think you’d ever ask me to do this,” Y/N murmured, starting to wrap.

Vi tilted her head slightly. “Didn’t want to make you fall for me too fast. Thought I’d ease you into it.”

Y/N laughed under her breath, glancing up briefly but not meeting Vi’s eyes. “Right. That must be why you’ve been hovering around the med room like a lost puppy lately.”

“Not a puppy,” Vi shot back, grinning. “A wolf. Cool. Mysterious. Very smooth.”

“Definitely not smooth,” Y/N muttered, and Vi swore she was smiling.

The two of them were so close, the space between them charged with something unsaid. Y/N focused on her work, but her pulse was pounding at the feel of Vi’s skin under her fingers. The tension in her shoulders, the way Vi’s legs bracketed her in gently, not in a trapping way but in something that felt oddly protective.

Vi couldn’t stop watching her. The crease in her brow, the way her lashes fanned over her cheeks when she looked down, the gentleness in her every movement. She wanted to say something. Something real. But the words stuck behind her teeth.

Y/N finished the last wrap, taping it off before carefully setting Vi’s hands down. She reached to set the supplies on the table beside them, and when she turned back, she met Vi’s eyes.

They were breathtaking, so blue, so focused. But not just on her. Into her.

Vi’s gaze dropped to her lips.

Y/N’s breath hitched.

Vi shifted forward slightly, one hand starting to reach for Y/N’s waist like it was second nature. Her palm hovered there, fingers aching to pull her close. Y/N didn’t pull away. If anything, she leaned in, just a bit, her eyes flicking from Vi’s lips to her eyes again.

It was all happening slowly. Carefully. Like the universe was holding its breath.

“Vi!” Claire’s voice cut through the moment like a blade, the door swinging open with a loud creak. “Coach wants to go over the new forecheck—”

She stopped mid-sentence.

Vi and Y/N snapped apart like magnets yanked apart by force. Y/N took a full step back, cheeks flushed, and turned her head toward Claire with a small, “Hey.”

Claire blinked, her eyes bouncing between the two of them before raising a single eyebrow in unmistakable suspicion. “Uh… yeah. Coach. Playbook. Now.”

Vi stood slowly, clearing her throat and casting one last look toward Y/N. She didn’t say anything, just smiled, soft and a little crooked, and started toward the door.

Y/N watched her the whole way, arms folded across her chest to hide the way her hands still trembled.

Vi paused at the doorway, turning back just as Claire was already halfway down the hall.

“Thanks, Y/N,” she said, her voice barely above a murmur, like it was meant for her alone.

Y/N smiled, small, warm, everything in her chest fluttering. “Anytime.”

And Vi left, but the ghost of her hand on Y/N’s waist lingered long after she was gone.

—

Y/N couldn’t stop replaying that moment in the sports med room. The way Vi’s hand had hovered just shy of her waist, fingers twitching like she wanted to pull her closer but didn’t. And worse, Vi’s eyes had been fixed on her mouth like it held every answer she’d ever wanted. The warmth of her breath, the low murmur of her voice, it had left Y/N’s heart fluttering like a warning bell, or maybe a promise.

That ghost of a near-kiss followed her like a shadow as the rest of her shift blurred by. She was meant to leave early today, to slip out before the women’s team wrapped up practice, but Mel had texted from the library in a panic over a looming chemistry exam. Y/N hadn’t even hesitated before agreeing to cover her. And when a player from the men's team decided he needed a last-minute ice bath, her early departure turned into a stay that dragged thirty more minutes longer than expected.

By the time she pulled on her hoodie and adjusted the strap of her heavy, overstuffed purse over her shoulder, her limbs felt tired but her thoughts still clung to Vi. She stepped out of the sports med room, locking the door behind her, exhaling slowly, only to startle slightly at the sound of a familiar voice.

"Jesus, Y/N. Is that a purse or your entire apartment in there?" Vi’s voice came from where she leaned against the wall next to the door, arms crossed, smirk cocked like a loaded weapon.

Y/N turned, unimpressed but hardly annoyed. Her lips curled, a soft smile betraying her fondness as she raised an eyebrow. “Some of us like being prepared. You wouldn’t understand, you barely carry your keys.”

Vi grinned wider, eyes drinking her in. “I don’t need keys when I’ve got charm. Works like magic, actually.”

Y/N snorted. “Is that what you tell yourself when your charm doesn’t get you through a locked door?”

Vi pushed off the wall, walking forward until she stood in front of Y/N, eyes glittering beneath the dim hallway light. "Nah. That’s when I call you. My favorite fixer."

The teasing had become their language, smooth, effortless, edged with affection. It used to be playful, even impersonal, but now there was something softer curled beneath it. Y/N felt it in the way Vi looked at her, as if she were memorizing details she didn’t want to forget.

Vi glanced down at the purse strap digging into Y/N’s shoulder. Without a word, she stepped forward, her hand brushing against Y/N’s arm as she slid the bag from her shoulder with practiced ease. Y/N blinked, a flush crawling up her neck. Vi didn’t say anything about it, just threw the strap over her own shoulder like it weighed nothing.

“Come on,” she said, turning casually like she hadn’t just made Y/N’s stomach twist in knots.

They walked side by side in silence, the air between them no longer crackling with unspoken tension but buzzing with something quieter, something hopeful. The teasing didn’t stop entirely, though. Vi would throw in a comment here or there, about the way Y/N walked too fast, or the size of her hoodie sleeves. Y/N would roll her eyes, but she found herself stepping closer anyway, drawn to Vi like gravity.

Before long, they reached Y/N’s car. Vi opened the passenger side and set her bag down carefully, then moved back to stand in front of her, just like last time. Familiar, yet… changed.

Vi didn’t say anything at first. She just watched her, her blue eyes soft in the streetlight, shadowed and thoughtful. Then she leaned in, slow, almost unsure, until their noses nearly brushed. Her voice, when it came, was a whisper.

“You always look like you’re thinking about something important when I catch you off guard.”

Y/N blinked, her breath catching. She hadn’t expected that. Not from Vi. Not tonight.

“Maybe I am,” she whispered back, her hand instinctively reaching out to steady herself on Vi’s arm. She could feel the warmth of her through the thin fabric.

Vi’s gaze dropped to her lips again. Her hand hovered again at Y/N’s waist, then rested just an inch away, like she didn’t want to cross the line unless Y/N asked her to.

The moment pulsed between them, full of possibility. Y/N’s heart thudded in her chest, unsure if she wanted to close the distance or hold it just a little longer. She could feel the shift, the way Vi wasn’t just teasing anymore. This wasn’t just a game.

“I… should go,” Y/N said finally, her voice trembling slightly.

Vi stepped back immediately, something like regret flashing behind her eyes, though her smile never faltered. “Yeah,” she said, clearing her throat. “Yeah, I get it.”

Y/N opened her car door slowly, glancing back as she got in. Vi was still watching her, like she didn’t want to look away yet.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” she said, quiet but sincere.

“Night, Vi,” Y/N replied, closing the door gently.

As she pulled out of the lot, she saw Vi still standing there in her rearview mirror. Still watching. Still waiting.

And all Y/N could think was how badly she wanted to turn around and tell her she wasn’t ready to say goodnight just yet.

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ taglist !

@daughterofthemoons-stuff @strawb4kdior @lover-girl009 @aprilshireath @brianna-merlim @jinririz @arahiraaai @yeinbae @jupitism @ii-vee @vxtanne31 @brooks-lin @re1daway @st0nerlesb0 @starletfemme

[wcnderlnds]

battlefield | choi su-bong (thanos)

・❥・ summary: running into your ex boyfriend during the squid games was the last thing you expected ・❥・word count: 719 ・❥・warnings: uh... usual squid game stuff. ・❥・ authors note: this is a short one just to test the waters but im obsessed with this man after watching squid game 2 <333

There he was. The last person you’d ever expected to see in this place. Player 230. Choi Su-Bong or, as the world knew him as, Thanos. The bright purple hair had been easy to spot. The last few months had been spent avoiding him so why did fate want to throw you together in this place? Wherever the hell this place was. You still weren’t even sure but as you walked up the stairs to the first game, you didn’t really care. All you wanted to do was lay low and make sure that Thanos didn’t see you. A conversation with your ex boyfriend was the last thing you wanted.

Things had ended badly between the two of you when he’d lost all his money thanks to the crypto scam. It had changed him, turned him into someone you didn’t recognise anymore so when the arguments started and his behaviour became erratic, you knew you had to get out of there. So, you did. You left and had never looked back. All you wanted was enough money to get out of the city and far, far away. There was nothing here for you anymore. If you could win the games then you could finally start fresh somewhere.

Walking through the doors onto a floor of sand and brightly coloured walls, you heard the voice of Thanos talking to his friend. Instantly, you looked down at the ground, hoping he didn’t see you. Unfortunately for you, he had stood next to you. His eyes scanned your face before recognition lit his eyes up.

“Senorita!” He said in a sing-song voice, wide grin on his face as he outstretched his arms. “What are you doing here? Come on, give me a hug.”

“None of your business and no thanks,” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m hurt,” he splayed his hand on his chest over his heart. As much as he was using his confident swagger to irritate you, deep inside he couldn’t be more glad to see you. “Not even going to give me a chance to talk, huh? That’s stone cold.”

As the rules of the game echoed through the speakers, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. His hand had raised to his friend to stop him from talking to him so he could get a proper look at you. When you had left, that had been the breaking point for him. Everything had gone downhill from there. For so long he’d been trying to seek you out, to apologise but he knew you’d been avoiding him. Your friends wouldn’t tell him where you were, your family had chewed him out the second he had showed up on their doorstep so, eventually, he’d given up. But, here you were.

As Player 456 shouted out about the game being a lie and that you were going to die, your head shot up. Surely he couldn’t be telling the truth, right? Red Light, Green Light was a children’s game. At most you were probably going to be out of the running for the cash if you were caught moving.

“He’s crazy,” Thanos said. It was his way of trying to comfort you. He had instantly noticed the slight panic in your eyes, the way you were rubbing your hands against your thighs. “Don’t listen to him.”

All you could do was nod but there was a gut feeling inside you telling you that maybe it wasn’t entirely all crazy talk. Something about this whole thing felt off. Your eyes caught some girl talking, her hands waving around then suddenly she was on the ground. Instantly, fear gripped you, your stomach dropping. The room around you started to spin – you were really going to die here.

“Hey, hey,” Thanos had reached out, his hand gripping yours as he stood in front of you, back to you. “Stay behind me. I won’t let anything happen to you. You hear me? Stay behind me.”

“But… what if…” The sheer panic in your voice made his heart clench.

“No. We’re both getting out of here alive, okay? Now, stay behind me.” His protective instinct had kicked in. Right now, he didn’t care if you hated him. All he cared about was making sure you survived this so maybe, just maybe, he could finally make things right.

[i-like-loserz]

honey, baby

synopsis: san needs your attention

pairing: husband!san x afab!reader

warnings: SMUT (18+), jealousy, handjob, begging, teasing, sub!san, dacryphilia, pet-names, house-wife!reader, messy endings, light marking kink, reader does not get off..., not proof-read :0

word count: 2.5k

note: i'm sorry, we all need some sub!san in our lives... right...

masterlist

How delicate his hand is, adorned handsomely with understated rings, pressing gently against the small of your back as he leads you through the room. Artificial chatter, decorated with an occasional bout of posh laughter, settles finely above the jazz playing in the background. 

Your heels click softly against the marble flooring, each step lining up perfectly with his. 

Together, you’re a vision of excellence. 

San is the man that everyone wants. The definition of a gentleman. He’s charming, polite, and patient. But also unbelievably beautiful. He comes from a background of old money, but his legacy never stopped him from looking elsewhere for love.

Then there’s you. A woman who can blend into any crowd, disarming even the most stuck-up aristocrat with an easy smile. No one knows where you came from, but they don’t really care – or rather, they stopped caring once they realized how easily San would drop them for bothering you. 

The two of you act as the personification of refined love. 

Modest, refined, and lovely. Rarely sharing even a single kiss in front of an audience. 

San nods to a few guests as he passes them, politely acknowledging their existence, but never making a move to engage with them. He exudes this aura of cool confidence – as if every breath he takes is calculated and perfected. This way, no one ever questions his decisions or fights his whims…not like you anyway.

The wine glass in your hand has a bare sip of red left in it. The rim is spotted with the seductive print of your lips, reflecting the small tastes you took throughout the night to keep yourself relatively sober.

You would have gone for another but a heated whisper, pressed exquisitely against the edge of your ear, drew away any thoughts of humoring your husband’s guests. You settle it gently on a counter, no longer needing the prop of a hostess. 

San’s leading hand presses more insistently against back with each step he takes. His breaths grow deeper, his body draws closer. 

Usually, he’s able to wait until the party ends – watching you with dark eyes as you see the last of the crowd off, thanking them for visiting with that polite smile you’ve perfected. You’re so good to him, putting up with the lifestyle he was born into and taking the role of the perfect housewife and hostess that pays attention to every need her guests have.  

But now, San needs your attention to be directed at him. 

—

He broke while you were in the middle of a conversation with somebody’s plus one. And San knows he was a plus one because he didn’t recognize the man…or his name…or his “successful tech” company. 

He’s not usually a jealous man, but something about this guy…

San was sitting next to you, charming yet another investor of his father’s business, when he heard a low voice speaking to his beautiful wife, “Please, call me Yunho, Mr. Jeong is my father.” 

It peeved him.

You laughed politely, displaying your easy going nature by complying with his wish, repeating his first name before offering your own. San bristled at the sound of another man’s name coming from your lips. 

Who even is this guy? 

There were no Jeongs on the guestlist – and he would know, he’s the one who checks off on that stuff. This is a business party, not some get together that can be crashed so unpleasantly by an overnight millionaire like him.

The investor he was once trying to woo was getting pulled into a different conversation. And thank god for that. He wouldn’t have been much fun to talk to when he’s distracted like this anyway. 

San took that as an opportunity to turn his body toward yours. He watched intently as you continued your friendly interaction with a handsome stranger – who seems to be leaning closer with every pretty word you speak. 

You looked effortlessly beautiful as you rambled about the recent trip he took you on, excitedly describing your favorite restaurants with that familiar brightness in your eyes. He’s suddenly longing to hold your hand right then and there, to pull you onto his lap and nuzzle his face against the crook of your neck. 

His hand moved before he could think about it, gently brushing over your forearm to get your attention. When you turned to look at your husband, the man in front of you retreated from his slow shift into your space, suddenly uneasy by how San was staring him down. 

“Honey?”

At the sound of your voice, he shifted his attention from the offending man to you, the tension in his shoulders easing at the affectionate pet-name. San rounded his eyes innocently, softening his expression. 

“Baby…” He said timidly in a bare whisper, fully knowing that that name was strictly off-limits in public. You raise a questioning eyebrow, wondering what made your husband so needy all of the sudden.

“San.”

San leaned closer to you, a hand slowly shifting from the velvet couch to the top of your thigh. The guests continued to bustle around the two of you, unaware of the sudden tension settling between you. You let him push closer until his lips barely brush against ear.

“Pay attention to me…”

—

You’ve never left your own party early. You have actually trained yourself to have the same amount of energy greeting the guests as you do leading them out. The party doesn't end until you've seen everyone out.

So will anyone really notice a scant 15 minutes of your absence?

Well, you hope not. 

San couldn’t even make it to the bedroom. Instead, he pulled you into an oversized laundry room at the end of the hall, sliding the door shut before you could protest about being too close to the party.

“Sannie, wait.” 

Your words are lost to the air. 

He’s already pressing desperate, hot kisses against your throat. His broad body effectively pins you to the door as his hands, itching to undress you, drag over your soft curves covered by the fine fabric of your dress. Eager fingers grope over your tits before settling delicately around the base of your neck.

His suit jacket rests in a heap on the floor, leaving him in his unbuttoned vest and wrinkled dress shirt – a view you’d love to devour if not for the people who stand on the other side of the door. 

“Maybe we should stop –” 

“I can’t, I-I need you, baby.” He’s begging you – each word pathetically whined out from his pouty lips. “Need you close to me.”

“What if they notice that we’re both gone? What if they come looking?”

Pitiful moans are pressed onto your skin as he helplessly grasps at your body, scared that you’d leave him wanting and overwhelmed by his need to feel you against him.

At this point, San wouldn’t care if the whole party saw him fucking you against the dining table – least of all that Yunho guy. He doesn’t care if they can hear him whining for you, begging you to let him fill you up like he does every night. He wants to show you off, hold open your cum soaked thighs just to show them that you love him and he’s your good boy. 

But at the same time, letting anyone see you like that irks him like nothing else. You’re his and he’s yours.

“Please.” He implores, eyes glistening with a needy look. He gently takes your hand and leads it to where he needs you the most. You give in easily, pressing against his cock which strains against his perfectly tailored trousers. He’s already throbbing from the faint sensation of your touch. 

“Please…?” You tease under your breath, now fully gripping the shape of him through the layers of his clothes. He watches the way your hand moves over him with a dazed look, appreciating the way your small hand looks, fisting his clothed cock with glazed eyes.

You squeeze him abruptly, nudging him for an answer and he responds with a surprised whine, his hips jerking up against you from the intense sensation.  

“Please t-touch me.” 

“I am, baby.”

His dark eyebrows pinch in frustration, “You know what I mean.”

You hum understandingly, slowly unzipping his pants as you taunt him.

“You’re so needy…” 

He sighs as you pull down his briefs along with the restricting fabric of his pants. His thick cock slaps against his covered stomach, flushed prettily in a deep shade of pink, gently weeping pre-cum at the tip. Everything about San is pretty – especially the enamoured way he stares down at you with his signature pouty lips and flushed cheeks.

Eyes locked with his, you idly run a finger against his bare hip, so close to where he wants you to touch. He stutters out a shaky breath, his body shivering from the delicate sensation.

“K-kiss me.” He cups your jaw and moves impossibly closer to you. Your chest meets his as he holds you close, his hips pressing his hard cock against your body. He dips down to hover his soft lips over yours, “...Please.” He adds in a whisper – drenched in desperation. 

As if you could ever deny him.

“You’re cute…” You whisper back before pressing your lips onto his. 

You feel him immediately melt against you, his cock twitching eagerly against your stomach as he finally tastes you on his tongue. You hope he doesn't notice how you subtly rub your thighs together, an attempt to relieve the ache between them.

Your hands drift from resting on his chest to tangle in his hair, tugging gently at the ends, if only to hear that breathless whine that you adore. 

As you draw away for a breath, you notice a smear of red messily decorating his lips. He doesn’t seem to care though, looking down at a similar mess on your lips with a heated gaze.

You can tell that he’s imagining the same stain at the base of his cock. San has a thing for marks, especially because it’s you who’s leaving them. 

You lift up his dress shirt before pressing the palm of your hand against his aching erection, drawing a cute whimper from him. His stomach flexes from the sudden coolness of the air touching his heated skin.

Oh, how you want to lick over each defined ab, make him cry out from your teasing before biting into the firmness of his stupidly broad chest – but you don’t have time for that right now.

“Look at you,” You wrap your hand around him and slowly start to jerk him off, “almost about to cum from some kissing.” San bites his bottom lip to keep his moans down as your thumb repeatedly rubs over the edge of his sensitive tip. 

“C-can’t help it, you taste s-so good.” His hips thrust eagerly against your hand, cock generously leaking as he feels himself already approaching the edge.

Your wrist moves in quick, practiced motions, slick noises filling the space between you. You can't help but dip your other hand under his dress shirt, feeling up his perfect body with the edge of your nails to make him tremble.

“I'll let you taste more tonight if you cum for me like a good boy."

San nods eagerly, but you can tell by that hazy look in his eye that he'd agree to jump off from the second floor balcony if you asked him.

You can tell that he's getting close by the way he's bucking into your slippery fist, whines growing louder and more desperate. It almost looks like he's about to cry as he stares down at the way your hand is wrapped so perfectly around his throbbing cock.

“About to c-cum,” he pants, eyes glistening sweetly. "F-ffuck, baby… Y-you’re s-so good to me. Don’t want it to get on you, though, and ruin your pretty dress.”

"No?" You tease as you watch him struggle to move a mere inch away, hips still thrusting in want. How cute. His eyes squeeze shut at your honeyed tone, knowing you were going to make it harder for him to back away. "You don't want to see me covered in your pretty mess?"

"Nnghh~" You watch him scramble to hold off his orgasm, legs shaking as his hands grip your waist tightly to ground himself. "please -- !"

You finally let him make some space between you, finding it adorable that even in this state, he's worried about protecting you from the people outside.

You give him one last squeeze, fingers brushing over his dripping tip before whispering: "Okay, baby~ Cum for me."

And he does. Oh, how he makes a mess of himself.

His broad shoulders shake as he curls his body into himself, head dipped while spilling out the most pathetic breathy whines against the top of your shoulder.

His hips shake sporadically as each rope of cum covers your hand, dripping miraculously over his lap and onto his once perfectly-pressed pants. Somehow, he stayed true to his word. Not a drop touched your dress.

"Good boy..."

He groans as you milk him with a tight fist, body shuddering from the overstimulation. Your other hand soothes him, rubbing gently over his stomach as he moves through his high.

---

San's panting, leaning against the washing machine with a fucked-out look on his face. He pulled his briefs back on, opting to leave the pants unbuttoned and barely hanging onto his hips.

At this point, it would be better for him to change – his pants are stained with drops of cum, his shirt is wrinkled and stretched out, his hair has been fluffed into a mess. 

Maybe you should just tell everyone that he wasn’t feeling well…

You press a light peck to the side of his flushed neck before moving away from him in a hurry. You wash your hands in the small sink at the corner of the room and find a few tissues to take off your ruined lipstick and any residual sweat. 

You try to fix your hair to look decent – though there is no mirror to really check – and smooth out your dress. Thankfully, San only made a mess of himself (at least, visually). You were planning to slip into a bathroom on the way to the parlor anyway. 

“Ok, baby.” You throw the tissues away before turning back to your husband. His eyes are still half-lidded with lust, watching how easily you go back to being the refined woman from earlier this evening. “Clean yourself up, I’m going back out. I’ll tell them you’re feeling under the weather.” 

“You’re so beautiful.” His raspy voice is endearing. 

You feel your cheeks heating up at the compliment. You try to stamp it down, try to stay composed, but he always knows what to say to make you feel this way. 

“You are beautiful, baby.” You respond with a gentle smile, walking back to him to give him one last kiss. One turns into many. He shyly smiles back, his dimples deepening as you scatter more kisses around his face.

“Wish me luck out there.” You whisper, running your fingers through his hair to reduce the fluffiness. 

“Come back to me soon, okay?”

“Anything for you, my love.”

[jupiterpilgrim]

Collision

Christmas Special🎄

Yujin x Male Reader

word count: 17K

The driveway crunches under your tires, the snow thick and fresh, the icy wind biting at your face the second you step out of the car. It smells like home—pine trees and the faint whiff of wood smoke from the chimney. But none of it feels comforting. The weight in your stomach isn’t from your bag slung over your shoulder; it’s dread.

Christmas is supposed to be easy, right? Some lights, shitty jokes from your dad, a pile of gifts no one really needs. But this year? No, this year is a fucking curveball. Your dad remarried. Out of nowhere. Surprise! He’s got a wife, and she’s got a daughter. You haven’t even met them yet. They could be anyone. Strangers, stuck in your house, calling it theirs. What if they don’t like you? 

Worse—what if they do?

The front door swings open before you even reach it, and there’s your dad, grinning like he’s already three spiked eggnogs deep. “Hey, kiddo!” he booms, pulling you into a bear hug that smells like aftershave and nostalgia. You pat his back awkwardly, your fingers cold and stiff.

Inside, the house is warm, almost stifling, and decked out like Christmas threw up everywhere—tinsel, garlands, the works. You catch a glimpse of the tree in the living room, its blinking lights like a sugar rush for your eyes. You put your bag on the floor for a moment.

That's when you see one of them.  

Your stepmother’s standing in the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on a towel, her smile wide but a little hesitant. She’s tall, polished, the kind of woman who looks like she’s never eaten a carb without guilt. She steps forward, offers a hand. “Good evening, sweetheart. So nice to finally meet you.” Her voice is smooth, polite. You shake her hand, mumbling your name and something about being pleased to meet her as well.

But your eyes slide past her, drawn like a goddamn magnet, and there she is.

Yujin. 

Yes, her.

It’s like getting punched in the gut. She leans against the doorway, arms crossed, lips curled in that same fucking smirk you’ve had nightmares about. Her black hair falls over one shoulder, her skin flawless, her legs impossibly long in ripped jeans that should be illegal. She hasn’t changed, except maybe she’s hotter now, and isn’t that just the ultimate middle finger from the universe?

“Hey, sweetheart,” she says, her voice low and syrupy, and it knocks the air out of you. Her smile widens as your brain short-circuits. “So nice to finally meet my stepbrother.”

You can’t even answer. 

Your throat’s dry, your palms clammy. All the memories come rushing back—her cornering you by your locker, stealing your homework, making you trip in front of half the school. She was your personal tormentor, a one-girl wrecking crew of humiliation. 

And now? 

Now she’s in your house.

You force your legs to move, stepping forward to shake her hand, because what the fuck else are you supposed to do? But she doesn’t take it. Instead, she pulls you into a hug. A hug. Her body presses against yours, warm and soft and so fucking wrong, and then she leans in, her breath hot against your ear.

“God, you’re still such a little bitch,” she whispers, her voice so quiet only you can hear. “This is gonna be so much fun.”

Your heart’s slamming in your chest, your hands shaking as you pull away, trying to act normal. But she’s watching you with that sly grin, her eyes sparkling like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you. 

“Dinner’s almost ready,” your dad says, oblivious to the tension in the room. “Why don’t you kids catch up?”

Yujin winks at you. “Yeah, let’s catch up,” she says sweetly. Too sweetly.

You nod, because what else can you do? Christmas Eve has already become your funeral. The nightmare’s just started, and there’s no waking up from this one. 

“Err, sure, I'll just keep my stuff in my room.” 

I'll help you!" exclaims Yujin, the altruist.

“You don’t have to—” you start, your voice cracking as Yujin plucks your bag off the floor like it weighs nothing. 

“Don’t be stupid,” she cuts you off, grinning wide enough to show teeth. “What kind of stepsister would I be if I didn’t help my adorable little stepbrother settle in?”

Her tone drips with mock sweetness, and you glance toward your dad, silently pleading for rescue, but he’s too busy smiling like a proud idiot. Your stepmother nudges him with her elbow, murmuring something about how nice it is to see the two of you bonding. 

You want to scream.

“I can handle it,” you try again, grabbing for the bag, but Yujin just tilts it out of reach and turns toward the stairs.

“Don’t be rude,” she says over her shoulder, her smirk still firmly in place. “Lead the way, champ.”

You have no choice but to trudge up the stairs, Yujin trailing behind you with your bag. You can practically feel her eyes burning into the back of your neck. Your old room’s at the end of the hall, unchanged except for the faint smell of mothballs and abandonment. You push the door open and step inside, already imagining locking it and barricading it with a chair. 

But before you can say a word, Yujin’s behind you, kicking the door shut with the heel of her boot. The sharp click of the latch sends a shiver down your spine.

“Well,” she says, dropping your bag onto the bed with a heavy thud. “This is cozy. Still jerking off to the same anime posters, or did college finally level you up?”

Your cheeks go hot instantly, and you spin to face her. “Shut up,” you snap, sharper than you mean to, but it just makes her grin wider.

“There’s that fire,” she purrs, stepping closer, her dark eyes glittering with amusement. “I was starting to think college turned you into a total bore.”

You take a deep breath, forcing your voice to stay calm. Mature. “Did you know?” you ask, your fingers curling into fists at your sides. “Before today. Did you know I was—” You can’t even finish the sentence. The words feel too ridiculous. Too impossible.

“Your dad’s son?” she finishes for you, arching a perfect eyebrow. “Obviously. He showed me this cute little picture of you two together. Big grins, matching dorky Christmas sweaters. I thought I was gonna piss myself!"

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “So you’ve been planning this.”

“Planning?” She tilts her head, mock-innocent. “Oh, no, stepbrother. I’ve just been… looking forward to it. Every day since I found out.” She pauses, leaning in until you can smell her shampoo, something sharp and floral that makes your head spin. “You should’ve seen the look on your face downstairs. Priceless.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to hold your ground. “You’re acting like we’re still in high school,” you say, your voice steady, even though you’re sweating bullets. “We’re not kids anymore. Can you try acting like an adult for five minutes?”

“Hmm.” She taps a finger against her chin, pretending to think. “Nope. Too boring.”

You want to scream again, but instead you sit on the edge of your bed, burying your face in your hands. “What do you want, Yujin?” you mumble through your fingers. “Why are you like this?”

“Why am I like this?” she echoes, feigning shock. She perches on the bed next to you, so close her knee brushes yours. “I’m like this because it’s fun, dummy. Look at you. You’re so easy.”

“I’m not—” You stop yourself, clenching your jaw. “Can we just… not?”

“Not what? Talk about college? Your big, important life now?” She rolls her eyes, leaning back on her palms. “Alright, let’s hear it. Tell me all about your boring classes and your boring friends.”

“It’s not boring,” you mutter, glaring at her. “I’m doing well. Better than high school, anyway.”

“Well, that’s a low fucking bar.” She smirks, nudging your shoulder. “C’mon, I’m kidding. Lighten up.”

You sigh, leaning back against the headboard. “Fine. What about you, then? What are you doing with your life, besides making mine hell?”

“Oh, you know.” She waves a hand lazily. “This and that. I’ve got a part-time job. Still deciding what I want to do long-term. For now, I’m focusing on hobbies.”

“Hobbies,” you repeat, narrowing your eyes. “Like tormenting me?”

“Bingo.” She winks, crossing her legs and making herself way too comfortable on your bed. “But seriously, I’ve mellowed out. College must’ve made you soft.”

You bristle at the jab, but you don’t take the bait. Not this time. “Can you just—can you try to be normal? Just for Christmas?”

“Normal?” She laughs. “Oh, sweetheart. You’re in my house now. Normal’s not on the menu.”

You close your eyes, exhaling through your nose. 

This is going to be the longest Christmas of your life.

“Remember that time I locked you in the janitor’s closet during lunch?” Yujin says, lounging across your bed like she owns it, her smile is as sharp as ever, her voice dripping with nostalgia. “You cried so loud, the janitor thought the fire alarm was going off.”

You stiffen, gripping your knees so tight your knuckles turn white. “I didn’t cry,” you mutter, though your face burns hot at the memory. You’d been pounding on the door, desperate to get out, and yeah, maybe your voice cracked a little, but crying…? No way.

“Oh, you definitely cried,” she shoots back, her grin widening. “Tears streaming down your nerdy little face, begging for someone to let you out. It was adorable.”

“It was traumatic,” you snap, glaring at her. “I missed half my math test because of you.”

“Half your math test?” She gasps, mocking a look of horror. “God forbid! How did you survive without your precious GPA?”

“Can you not?” you groan, dragging a hand down your face. “Why do you think this is funny? You made my life a nightmare.”

“Nightmare?” She laughs, the sound light and cruel. “Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad. You’re acting like I burned your house down or something.”

“It felt like it,” you grumble under your breath.

She smirks, propping herself up on one elbow. “You know, I was doing you a favor. Toughening you up. Making sure you didn’t grow up to be a total pushover.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, thanks for that. Really shaped me into a beacon of confidence.”

She leans closer, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “You’re welcome.”

“God, you are a sociopath,” you mutter, turning away to stare at the wall. You feel her gaze burning into the back of your head, like she’s trying to decide whether to poke the bear or let it simmer.

“So,” she says after a beat, her tone turning mock casual, “what about that time I replaced all your locker stuff with tampons? Classic, right?”

You whip around, your face a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “Classic? That was humiliating. Everyone laughed at me for weeks.”

“Months,” she corrects with a smirk. “Come on, though, you’ve got to admit it was creative.”

“Creative?” You bark out a laugh, bitter and sad. “You literally ruined my high school experience.”

“And yet here you are,” she says, spreading her arms as if presenting you. “Still alive. Still kicking. Still, uh… well, you.”

You glare at her, trying to ignore the smug look on her face. “How do you even live with yourself?”

“Easily,” she says with a shrug. “I’m amazing.”

Before you can retort, your dad’s voice booms from downstairs, calling your name. “Dinner’s ready! You two coming down?”

Yujin hops off the bed, stretching her arms over her head like she didn’t just spend the last ten minutes reliving your personal hell. “Better not keep the old man waiting,” she says, sauntering toward the door. She pauses, glancing over her shoulder with a sly grin. “Try not to trip on the way down, nerd.”

You grit your teeth, swallowing the retort that’s bubbling up. You can feel your temper boiling under the surface, but you clamp down on it. She’s not worth it. Not here, not now. 

Following her downstairs, you try to shake off the memories, but they cling to you like cobwebs. Her laugh echoes in your ears, and for a moment, you wonder if this Christmas can get any worse. 

Something tells you it can.

—

The dining room is warm, the table set with enough food to feed a small army: a roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, green beans, cranberry sauce—the works. The smell alone would normally make your stomach rumble, but you can’t think about eating right now. You’re too busy trying to disappear into your chair while Yujin holds court.

She’s sitting directly across from you, a glass of wine in her hand and a mischievous glint in her eye. Your dad and stepmother are at either end of the table, smiling like this is a damn Coca-Cola commercial. They keep stealing glances between you and Yujin, clearly delighted that their kids are finally “bonding.”

“So,” your dad starts, cutting into his turkey, “how are you two getting along so far? Hitting it off?”

Yujin’s grin stretches wider as she sets her glass down, her fingers trailing along the rim. “Oh, we’re getting along great,” she says, her voice sugary sweet, but her eyes are locked on you, daring you to contradict her. “It’s like no time has passed at all.”

“That’s wonderful,” your stepmother gushes, clasping her hands together, apparently without noticing the subtext of her daughter's speech. “I was hoping you two would click. It’s so important, you know? Especially with blended families.”

Your dad nods enthusiastically, raising his glass. “To new beginnings!” 

You mumble something noncommittal, raising your water glass just to avoid looking rude, but Yujin doesn’t miss a beat.

“New beginnings,” she echoes, winking at you over the rim of her wine glass. “Though, really, it’s more like picking up where we left off.”

The words hang in the air like a challenge, and your stomach churns. You glance at your dad, praying he doesn’t take the bait, but of course, he does.

“Oh?” he says, perking up. “Did you two know each other before?”

Yujin leans back in her chair, crossing her legs, her expression pure amusement. “Oh, sure. We were… friends in high school.” She emphasizes the word “friends” in a way that makes you want to crawl under the table and die.

Your dad’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? That’s incredible! What are the odds?”

“It’s like fate,” Yujin says, her tone dripping with mock sincerity. “We were absolutely inseparable. Weren’t we, little brother?”

You choke on your mashed potatoes, coughing violently. Your stepmother hands you a napkin, her face full of concern, but Yujin just watches, her smile never faltering. 

“You okay, champ?” she asks, tilting her head like she’s genuinely worried. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” you croak, your voice raw. “Just… went down the wrong pipe.”

“Well, don’t die on us,” your dad jokes, oblivious to the tension. “So, you two were close, huh? Why didn’t you ever mention this before?”

Yujin answers before you can even open your mouth. “Oh, you know how it is. There are so many things we need to remember daily... And High school’s such a whirlwind. But yeah, we spent a lot of time together. In fact…” She pauses, letting the suspense build as she picks up her fork, stabbing a piece of turkey. “Some might say I had a… profound influence on him.”

You grit your teeth so hard you’re surprised your molars don’t shatter. “That’s… one way to put it,” you mutter.

“Don’t be modest,” Yujin teases, pointing her fork at you. “You were so dedicated. Always trying to impress me, always going out of your way to… help.” She says the last word with a sly smile, and you feel your face burning.

Your dad looks between the two of you, clearly delighted. “Well, that’s just fantastic. See? This was meant to be.”

“It really was,” Yujin agrees, taking another sip of wine. “I mean, what are the chances? You, me, and now—” She gestures around the table dramatically. “One big, happy family.”

“Exactly,” your stepmother says, beaming. “I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to see you two getting along. It’s like a Christmas miracle!”

You force a tight-lipped smile, shoving a forkful of green beans into your mouth to avoid saying something you’ll regret. Meanwhile, Yujin’s smirk grows impossibly wider, like she’s savoring every second of your misery.

“Tell us more about this,” your dad says, clearly eager to keep the conversation going, “what kind of stuff did you two do together back in high school? Any fun stories?”

Your heart sinks. Before you can come up with an excuse to dodge the question, Yujin leans forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh, so many stories,” she says, her voice light and breezy. “Like the time we… Oh, but I wouldn’t want to embarrass him. You know how sensitive he is.”

You glare at her, your hands clenched into fists under the table. “I’m not sensitive,” you snap, your voice sharper than you intended.

Yujin gasps, her hand flying to her chest in mock surprise. “Wow, defensive much? Relax, stepbrother. We’re just reminiscing. It’s healthy.”

Your stepmother chuckles, keeping a conspiratorial and amused expression with your father. “They’re just like siblings already, aren’t they?”

“Just like siblings,” Yujin echoes, her tone syrupy and smug. She catches your eye across the table, her smirk so infuriatingly smug it makes your blood boil. “Don’t you think, bro?”

You grind your teeth, stabbing your turkey with unnecessary force. “Sure. Just like siblings.”

The meal continues, the conversation flowing easily for everyone except you. Every time you start to relax, Yujin finds a new way to dig her claws in—mentioning a “funny” story that conveniently paints you in the worst possible light, brushing her foot against yours under the table, or throwing out a sarcastic comment every time you try to speak.

By the time dessert rolls around, you’re ready to fake food poisoning just to escape. But your parents? They’re over the moon. As far as they’re concerned, this is the happiest Christmas dinner ever.

—

The circus of horrors ends in a swirl of polite conversation and over-loud laughter, the kind that covers up awkward silences and unspoken tension. You pick at the crumbs of your dessert plate until you can’t justify sitting there anymore. Your dad, ever the enthusiast, claps you on the shoulder as everyone starts to disperse. His eyes are bright, his cheeks flushed from a few too many glasses of wine.  

"Hey, kiddo," he says, steering you toward the living room while Yujin and your stepmother clean up the table. "Can we talk for a second?"  

You stiffen but nod, letting him guide you to the couch. He plops down, gesturing for you to do the same, and you oblige, your hands fidgeting in your lap.  

“Look,” he starts, his tone softening in that way parents do when they’re trying to get serious. “I just want to say how proud I am of you. I know it’s not easy, this whole blended family thing. But seeing you and Yujin getting along? It means the world to me.”  

You swallow hard, guilt twisting in your gut like a knife. “Yeah,” you say, forcing a tight smile. “She’s… great.”  

“She really is,” he says. “And you, you’ve grown up so much. I know high school wasn’t easy for you, but look at you now—college, a bright future. I couldn’t be prouder.”  

Your chest tightens. How are you supposed to tell him that his perfect stepdaughter was your high school tormentor? That every smile she throws your way feels like a dagger aimed at your sanity? 

You can’t. 

It would ruin everything.  

So you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Thanks, Dad.”  

He pulls you into a quick hug, ruffling your hair like he used to when you were a kid. “Alright, get some rest. Tomorrow’s a big day—Our first Christmas morning as a new family!”  

You force another smile, mumbling something about heading to bed. And with that, this one-sidedly joyful conversation ends. 

—

Your room feels like a sanctuary as you close the door behind you, the silence wrapping around you like a blanket. You set up your laptop on the bed, scrolling through animated movies until you land on The Lion King. The opening notes of “Circle of Life” fill the room, and for the first time all evening, you start to relax.  

You’re halfway through the Mufasa's death when you hear a knock on the door. 

You freeze, your heart sinking. 

There’s only one person it could be.  

With a sigh, you pause the movie, put the laptop on the desk and shuffle to the door, pulling it open just enough to peek through. Sure enough, there’s Yujin, leaning against the doorframe in pajamas that leave very little to the imagination—short shorts that barely cover her thighs and a tank top so tight it’s almost transparent.  

“What do you want?” you ask, trying to keep your eyes on her face and not the way her shorts cling to her hips.  

She smirks, tilting her head like she’s already won. “Relax, nerd. I just need to borrow your toothbrush.”  

You blink, sure you misheard her. “My toothbrush?”  

“Yeah.” She pushes past you into the room without waiting for an invitation, looking around like she owns the place. “I forgot mine at my mom’s place, and I’m not going to bed without brushing my teeth.”  

You turn to face her, incredulous. “You’re insane if you think I’m letting you use my toothbrush.”  

She glances at your laptop screen, her smirk widening when she sees the paused scene. “Wait—are you watching The Lion King?”  

“Yeah, so?” You fold your arms, trying to deflect.  

Her laugh is sharp, cutting. “Oh my God, you’re such a child. What’s next? Gonna snuggle up with a teddy bear and sing 'Hakuna Matata'?"  

“Classic Disney movies are comforting,” you snap, your cheeks burning. “They’re timeless. Not that you’d understand.”  

“Comforting?” She raises an eyebrow, her grin downright wicked. “You’re pathetic. Do you still sleep with a nightlight too?”  

“At least I’m not barging into people’s rooms asking to share their toothbrush,” you fire back. “That’s disgusting.”  

She shrugs, unbothered. “What’s the big deal? We’re practically family now.”  

“That doesn’t make it okay!”  

“Well, I’m not going to bed without brushing my teeth.”  

“Use your finger,” you suggest, exasperated.  

She gasps, clutching her chest in mock horror. “Oh, the audacity! What kind of savage do you take me for?”  

“An entitled one,” you mutter, regretting it the second it’s out of your mouth.  

Her eyes narrow, but her smirk doesn’t waver. She steps closer, the air in the room suddenly feeling heavier. “Careful, stepbrother,” she says, her voice low, almost teasing. “You wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings.”  

You swallow hard, stepping back instinctively as she invades your space. “I—just… go ask your mom or something.”  

“Nah,” she says, taking another step forward, her eyes locking onto yours. “I like seeing you squirm too much.”  

Your back hits the edge of your desk, your laptop wobbling precariously. The paused image of Simba and Mufasa feels absurdly out of place, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Yujin as she leans in, her smirk turning predatory.  

“So,” she whispers, her voice dripping with false innocence. “Are you gonna lend me that toothbrush, or do I have to get creative?”   

You're tired of being trapped in this kind of situation and know that if you don't make a change, nothing will be different. Decided, you straighten your spine, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare her down.

Enough is enough. 

You’re not the same awkward, scared kid she pushed around in high school. “No,” you say, your voice firm. “You’re not using my toothbrush. Ever.”  

Her eyes narrow even further, her smirk faltering for the first time. “What’s your fucking problem, dude?”  

“My problem?” You laugh. “My problem is that you think it’s normal to walk into someone’s room and ask to scrape your nasty teeth with their toothbrush.”  

Her jaw drops, her eyes flashing with indignation. “Nasty?! Excuse me, but my teeth are perfectly clean!”  

You snort, shaking your head. “Yeah, sure. If you count all the lying and cheating you’ve done with that mouth...”  

Her lips part, and for a moment, she looks genuinely offended. Then her expression hardens, her voice dripping with anger. “You’re such a little bitch, you know that? Sitting here in your sad little room, watching Disney movies like a five-year-old.”  

“And you’re a dumb bitch,” you snap back, your temper flaring. “You only made it out of high school because you stole my homework and cheated on every test. I bet you don't know how to solve even a first degree equation!” 

The second the word leaves your mouth, you know you’ve fucked up.  

Yujin goes very still, her smirk vanishing. Her dark eyes fix on you, cold and unblinking, and for the first time, you feel a genuine spike of fear.  

“What did you just call me?” she says, her voice dangerously low.  

You open your mouth, trying to backpedal, but nothing comes out. She steps closer, her presence suddenly towering.

“I said,” she repeats, each word deliberate, “what did you just call me?”  

“I… I—I didn’t mean—”  

She cuts you off with a sharp laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “You’ve got some balls, stepbrother. Calling a woman a bitch like that. You think you’re tough now, huh? Big college guy? Watching The Lion King and talking shit?”  

You hold up your hands, trying to de-escalate. “Yujin, come on, I didn’t mean it like—”  

“I’ll teach you,” she interrupts, her voice dropping into a dangerous purr. “I’ll teach you to never call a woman a bitch again.”  

Before you can react, she moves. It happens so fast, your brain barely processes it—her hands on your arm, a twist, a pull, and suddenly your back hits the floor with a dull thud.  

"Jesus Christ!” you yelp, gasping for air.  

She’s on you in an instant, her knees pressing into your shoulders as she straddles you. “What’s the matter, nerd?” she taunts, leaning down so her face is inches from yours. “Not so mouthy now, huh?”  

“Get off me!” you sputter, squirming beneath her, but she’s stronger than she looks.  

“Oh, no,” she says, her grin returning with a sadistic edge. “You’re not getting off that easy.”  

Her thighs shift, and before you know it, they’re wrapped around your neck, squeezing just enough to make you panic. You grab at her legs, trying to push her off, but it’s like grappling with steel.  

“Holy shit, Yujin! What the hell are you doing?”  

“Teaching you a lesson,” she says, her voice mockingly sweet. “Say it. Say you’ll never call me a bitch again.”  

“Fine, fine!” you choke out, your hands clawing at her thighs. “I won’t! Just let go!”  

But she doesn’t let go. If anything, she squeezes harder, a triumphant laugh spilling from her lips. “Oh, no. Not until you say it properly. Beg me, stepbrother. Let’s hear it.”  

���Yujin, come on!” Your voice is muffled, your vision starting to blur. “You’re insane!”  

“And you’re pathetic,” she counters, her smirk widening. “Now say it. Please, Yujin, I’m sorry for being such a little bitch.”  

You groan, your pride warring with your desperation for oxygen. But as her thighs tighten again, cutting off what little air you have left, you know you don’t have a choice.  

“Fine!” you gasp, your voice ragged. “Please, Yujin, I’m sorry for being such a little bitch!”  

She laughs, a rich, mocking sound that vibrates through her thighs where they clamp loosely around your neck. Her long, toned legs feel impossibly strong, even though she isn’t really applying pressure. The mere implication that she could is enough to make you break out in a cold sweat.

“Sorry?” she repeats, tilting her head like she’s genuinely considering your words. “Hmm, doesn’t sound very convincing. Say it again, but this time really mean it. Oh, and call me ma’am.”  

Your face flushes hot, humiliation creeping up your neck. “I-I’m sorry, ma’am,” you stammer, hating how meek you sound. “Please, I swear I won’t say anything like that again.”  

She smirks, her thighs shifting slightly, the soft warmth of her skin pressing against the sides of your head. “That’s better,” she purrs, “but we’re not quite done, are we? Will you lend me your toothbrush now, or do I have to keep teaching you some respect?”  

You grit your teeth, anger flaring despite your position. “I’m not lending you my toothbrush, Yujin! That’s disgusting.”  

Her expression darkens, but there’s a playful glint in her eyes. “Wrong answer,” she says sweetly, leaning forward so her weight presses just a bit more against your throat.  

“Wait, wait!” you gasp, your hands instinctively grabbing at her thighs. “Fine! Take it, okay? Just let me go!”  

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She loosens her hold, but she doesn’t get up. Instead, her gaze drops, and her grin grows wider. “Oh my god,” she says, her voice dripping with mockery. “Are you seriously hard right now?”  

Your heart stops. You glance down in horror and realize that, yes, the bulge in your pants is painfully obvious.  

“It’s not—” you start to protest, but she cuts you off, shifting her thighs back into position.  

“Don’t even try to deny it,” she coos, leaning in closer. “Look at you, blushing like a little schoolboy. Are you actually enjoying this? Do you like being choked by my thighs?”  

“N-no!” you stammer, though your voice falters as her thighs press just a fraction tighter, the plushness of her skin enveloping your cheeks.  

“Liar,” she says, her voice low and teasing. “Come on, admit it. I can feel you squirming, and I can see that pathetic little boner of yours. Just say it—you like it, don’t you?”  

You try to shake your head, but her legs hold you in place. “I don’t—”  

“Say it,” she interrupts, her tone firm but still playful. “Or I’ll keep you here all night. Admit that you like how warm and soft my thighs are. Tell me you’re a submissive little perv.”  

Your resistance crumbles under her relentless teasing. Your face burns as you mumble, “Okay… fine. It’s kind of… nice.”  

Her laughter is bright and triumphant. “That’s what I thought. You’re a submissive little slut, aren’t you?”  

You close your eyes, wishing the floor would swallow you up, but she’s relentless. Her thighs move between your face, forcing you to look up at her.  

“So,” she drawls, “are you a virgin?”  

“No!” you blurt out immediately, your face heating up.  

She raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “No? Really? I don’t buy it.” Her grin widens as she watches you squirm. “Come on, don’t bullshit me. Who the hell would fuck you?”  

Your mouth opens, then closes. “I’m not lying,” you manage. “I’ve had sex before! In college.”  

Yujin bursts into laughter, loud and mocking, her head tilting back in genuine amusement. “Oh my god, that’s hilarious. You? Getting laid? Please.” She leans in closer. “What was her name, huh? Bet she doesn’t exist. Face it—no girl, not even the most desperate, would fuck a loser like you.”  

Her words hit harder than you expect, and the shame wells up in your chest. But she turns your chin with her thighs, forcing you to face her again.

“Aww,” she coos, feigning sympathy. “Did I hurt your little feelings? Well, maybe I’m feeling generous tonight. Must be the Christmas spirit or something.” She lets out a low chuckle, her thighs rubbing your neck slowly, almost like a massage. “Tell you what. Since you’re clearly a pathetic little virgin, how about I take that burden off your hands?”  

Your eyes widen, your body betraying you as your erection presses harder against your pants. She notices immediately, her smirk turning wicked. “Oh, you like that idea, huh?”  

“W-wait,” you stammer, but her voice cuts through yours.  

“Not so fast,” she says, her thighs flexing against your neck just enough to make your pulse spike. “Before I even consider it, you need to admit something to me.”  

“Admit what?” you ask nervously.  

She leans closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “That I’m beautiful.”  

You laugh nervously, shaking your head. “Yeah, no chance.”  

Her thighs squeeze tighter, making you gasp. “What was that?” she taunts. “You sure about that answer?”  

Your heart races as you struggle against the pressure. “Okay, okay! You’re beautiful, alright?”  

Her smile grows triumphant. “See? That wasn’t so hard. But just beautiful?”  

You hesitate, her expectant gaze burning into you. “You’re hot too,” you mutter.

She feigns surprise, pressing a hand to her chest. “Hot? Oh, you’re making me blush. What else?”  

You swallow hard, your voice trembling. “Your thighs… they’re, uh, juicy. And thick.”  

Her laughter is rich and sultry. “Juicy and thick, huh? You like being smothered by them?”  

“Yes,” you admit, your voice small.  

She grins. “What about my smile?”  

“It’s beautiful,” you say reluctantly.  

Her grin widens. “Oh, really? Didn’t you say earlier that my teeth were nasty?”  

You groan, the heat in your face unbearable. “I lied. Your teeth are… perfect.”  

She leans back slightly, studying you with an amused glint in her eye. “You’re not just saying all this so I’ll fuck you, right?”  

“No,” you insist. “It’s all true.”  

Her smirk softens into something almost curious. “Alright then. What did you think of me back in high school?”  

You try to avoid her gaze, but she won’t let you look away. “I… I don’t want to talk about it.”  

“Talk,” she demands, her thighs pressing just slightly again. “Or I’ll keep you here all night.”  

You sigh, defeated. “Fine. I had a crush on you, okay? I just… I wished you’d been nicer to me.”  

She snorts, shaking her head. “A crush? On me? That’s adorable. Why didn’t you do anything about it?”  

“Because I knew you’d never notice me,” you mumble. “I was just the guy you bullied.”  

She grins wickedly. “That’s not true. You were also good at doing my homework.” Her laugh is loud and unrepentant, and you can’t help but feel a flicker of humiliation all over again.  

Her fingers tug at the hem of her shorts. “What do you think of my pajamas?”  

You glance up at her reluctantly. The short shorts hug her hips in all the right ways, and her tank top perfectly shapes her breasts. “You look… hot,” you admit quietly.  

She smirks, clearly satisfied. “Good, because I picked them out just to tease you. But I think you’ve humiliated yourself enough for one night.” She stands, finally freeing you from her hold, and stretches languidly. “Go get on your bed. It’s going to be the best night of your life.”

Without much choice, you agree. Yujin goes to the door and locks it, then joins you. Now the bed feels smaller now with her on it, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight as Yujin stretches out, making herself comfortable like she owns the place. The Lion King is still paused on your laptop, Simba frozen trying to wake up his already lifeless father, a stark reminder of how normal your night had been before this. Your stomach flips as she looks at you with that amused smirk, her eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and authority.  

“So,” she says, her voice soft but teasing, “if you want me to fuck you, you’ve got to prove it.”  

“Prove it?” you echo nervously, fiddling with the edge of your blanket.  

“Yeah,” she says, sitting cross-legged now, her bare thighs on full display. “Show me you love me. Show me you’re capable of doing anything for me.”  

Your throat feels tight as you stammer, “But… isn’t this… wrong? I mean, because of our parents?”  

Yujin’s smirk deepens, and she leans forward, her face close enough that you can feel the warmth of her breath. “Who says they have to know? This can be our little secret,” she purrs, her tone dripping with mockery.  

You hesitate, your thoughts racing. She notices, of course. Yujin notices everything. “Look,” she says, her voice firm now, “I don’t fuck guys who don’t value me. If you’re not willing to worship me, I'm getting the hell out of your little room so you can jerk off to some disgusting hentai alone.

Her words sting, and before you can even formulate a response, she stretches out one long, toned leg, her foot pointed like a ballerina’s. “Here’s how this works,” she says, wiggling her toes. “If you want to cum tonight, you’re going to worship me. Like a goddess.”  

Your face burns as you stare at her foot, delicate and perfectly pedicured, her nails painted a glossy red. “I don’t… I don’t have a foot fetish,” you stammer weakly.  

Yujin rolls her eyes, laughing softly. “I don’t give a fuck if you do or not. I told you to suck my toes. So, do it.”  

You hesitate, but her expression shifts, her gaze narrowing. “Are you really going to make me repeat myself? Suck. My. Toes.”  

There’s something commanding in her tone that makes your heart race. You swallow hard, your gaze flickering to her foot. It’s undeniably… beautiful. Soft skin, high arch, perfectly shaped. Before you can overthink it, you lean forward, pressing a hesitant kiss to the top of her foot.  

She laughs, low and pleased. “Good boy. But I said suck, not kiss. Start with my toes.”  

Your hands tremble slightly as you lift her foot, her skin warm against your palms. You bring it closer, your lips brushing against her big toe. “Take it slow,” she says, leaning back on her elbows, her voice a purr. “I want to enjoy this.”  

You start tentatively, pressing kisses along her toes, your lips lingering longer each time. The scent of her lotion is faint but sweet, and you find yourself losing the initial awkwardness. Her skin is soft, smoother than you expected, and the warmth of her body feels oddly intimate.  

“Now lick,” she commands, her tone playful but firm.  

Your tongue darts out, tracing the curve of her big toe. The taste is neutral, nothing unpleasant, and as you swirl your tongue around the pad of her toe, you catch a glimpse of her face. She’s watching you intently, her lips curved into a satisfied smile.  

“See?” she says, her voice a little breathier now. “Not so bad, is it?”  

You don’t respond, too focused on the task. Your lips wrap around her toe, sucking gently, and she lets out a soft hum of approval. “That’s it,” she murmurs. “Use your tongue more. I want to feel it everywhere.”  

You move to her other toes, sucking and licking each one, the wet sounds almost obscene in the quiet room. Her foot flexes slightly in your grip, and you realize you’re gripping her ankle like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.  

“Good boy,” she says again, her tone dripping with condescension. “I think you’re actually starting to enjoy this.”  

You hate how right she is. 

There’s something strangely intimate about the act, the way her soft skin feels against your lips, the way her low murmurs of approval send a thrill through you. You glance up at her, your cheeks burning, and she smirks.  

“Don’t stop now,” she teases. “You’re just getting started. Show me how much you appreciate me.”  

Your tongue trails along the arch of her foot, your kisses growing bolder. Her laughter fills the room, light and mocking, but there’s a genuine note of pleasure there too.  

“Damn,” she says, wiggling her toes against your lips. “You’re a natural. Maybe you do have a foot fetish after all.”  

You shake your head, her toes still in your mouth, and she laughs harder. “Whatever you say, loser,” she purrs. “Just keep going. You’re doing great.”

Your lips drag slowly along the arch of her foot, tongue gliding up the curve, and every second feels surreal. You’re too deep into it now to stop. Yujin lounges back, one hand resting lazily on her stomach while the other dips beneath the waistband of her tiny shorts.  

Her movement catches your attention, and you pause for a fraction of a second before her voice cuts through the air. “Did I say you could stop?”  

“N-no,” you stammer, your breath warm against her skin.  

“Then don’t,” she snaps, but her tone is lighter now, almost teasing. Her fingers shift under her shorts, her hips shifting slightly. Her smirk widens when she sees your gaze flicker to the way her hand moves. “Eyes on my foot,” she orders. “You’re not done worshipping me.”  

You swallow hard and lean back in, your tongue running along the side of her foot now, your lips brushing her toes again, sucking gently. You hear her soft, satisfied sigh, and the sound sends heat pooling in your gut.  

“God, you’re really into this, huh?” she purrs, her fingers clearly working beneath the fabric of her shorts. “Look at you, completely devoted. It’s actually kind of cute… in a pathetic, loser-way.”  

Her words should sting, but instead, they just make you want to keep going, to prove yourself. You press firmer kisses along her foot, your tongue tracing every curve and ridge. Your hands tremble as they grip her ankle, and your own arousal throbs insistently, impossible to ignore.  

“You’re so fucking hot,” you blurt out suddenly, the words tumbling from your mouth before you can stop them.  

Yujin giggles, a sound that’s both mocking and genuinely pleased. “I know,” she says smugly, her hips rolling subtly as her fingers continue their work. “But it’s cute of you to say it out loud. Keep going, loser. You’re doing great.”  

Your mouth moves faster now, kissing and licking with more fervor, as if her approval is the only thing that matters. Your hand drifts down to your own pants, palming yourself through the fabric as you watch her.  

She notices, of course. “Oh, look at you,” she teases, her voice low and syrupy. “Touching yourself already? You’re so fucking easy. What are you even thinking about right now?”  

“You,” you admit breathlessly, the words spilling out in a rush. “You’re so hot, Yujin. You’re making me—”  

“Making you what?” she interrupts, her smirk growing.  

“Making me so fucking hard,” you say, your voice cracking slightly.  

Her laughter is soft, sultry, and her hand moves faster under her shorts. “Yeah? And you’re making my pussy so wet,” she says, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Look at you, on your knees, sucking my toes like a good little boy. How could I not get turned on?”  

Your breath hitches at her words, and you press your palm harder against yourself, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body. “You look so fucking good,” you mutter.  

She grins lazily, her fingers disappearing deeper beneath her shorts. “Keep going,” she says, her tone commanding. “Make me even wetter. Prove you’re worth fucking.”  

You obey, diving back into your task with renewed determination. Her soft moans fill the room now, and every sound she makes sends shivers down your spine. You can’t believe this is happening, can’t believe how easily she has you wrapped around her finger.  

“God, you’re pathetic,” she murmurs, but there’s a heat in her voice that makes it sound like a compliment. “And you fucking love it, don’t you?”  

You nod against her foot, her skin warm and soft against your lips. “I do,” you admit, your voice cracking slightly. “I love it. I love… you.”  

She freezes for a moment, her fingers pausing their movements. 

Then her smirk returns, sharper than ever. “Of course you do,” she says simply, her voice like velvet. “Now keep going, bitch.”

Your tongue glides across her toes, your saliva leaving them shiny and glistening. Yujin watches with a smirk that grows wider each time she flexes her foot and you eagerly follow, sucking and licking every inch. Her toes are damp, her skin slick and wet, and by now the faint taste of her lotion feels familiar on your tongue.  

“Wow,” she says mockingly, her voice dripping with amusement. “You’re really committed to this, aren’t you? My foot’s fucking drooling, and you look like you’re ready to propose to it.”  

You look up, her smug expression only making your cock twitch harder against the confines of your pants. Your lips hover over her big toe for a moment as you catch your breath, her words hitting something deep inside you.  

“You want to keep going?” she asks, tilting her head as her fingers lazily tap against her thigh. “Or are you finally gonna admit how much you’re loving this?”  

You don’t answer, at least not verbally. Instead, you lean down again, kissing the top of her foot, sucking on her toes, letting your lips linger longer this time. It’s humiliating, sure, but there’s something addictive about the way she looks at you, the way she controls every second of this.  

After a while, she pulls her foot away suddenly, smirking when she sees the disappointment flash across your face. “Alright, enough foreplay,” she says, her voice playful but firm. “Take off your pants.”  

You blink, caught off guard. “Wait, what?”  

“You heard me,” she says, sitting up straighter. “Pants. Underwear. Off. Now.”  

Your hands hesitate at the waistband of your pants, but her sharp gaze cuts through any lingering doubts. You nod, fumbling as you undo the button and slide them down, your boxers following soon after.  

The moment your cock springs free, Yujin’s eyebrows shoot up, and for the first time, her cocky smirk falters. “Holy shit,” she says, her tone caught somewhere between surprise and appreciation. “For a loser virgin nerd, you’ve got a pretty big, thick cock. What a waste.”  

You don’t know whether to feel proud or embarrassed, so you just stand there awkwardly, your hands twitching at your sides as she leans forward slightly, inspecting you like she’s trying to decide what to do next.  

“Alright,” she says, waving you back toward the bed. “Lie down. I wanna play with you a little first.”  

You obey, climbing onto the bed, your heart racing as she stretches out on the opposite side of the bed. Her foot, still slick with your saliva, presses gently against the base of your cock. The sudden contact makes you gasp, and she giggles, clearly enjoying your reaction.  

“Damn,” she teases, slowly sliding her foot up along your length. “Look at you. You’re already leaking, and I’ve barely touched you.”  

You bite your lip, your breath hitching as she presses her other foot against you, sandwiching your cock between both of them. The wetness from your earlier efforts makes every movement smooth and almost unbearably good.  

“How’s that feel?” she asks, her tone mockingly sweet as her feet start to move, stroking you with slow, deliberate motions.  

“F-fucking amazing,” you admit, your voice shaking.  

She laughs, her toes curling slightly as she drags them up the shaft. “Of course it does. I mean, look at you—getting jerked off by my feet. Bet you never imagined this happening in your wildest nerdy dreams.”  

You groan, your hips bucking slightly as her pace picks up. The wet glide of her skin against yours is intoxicating, every stroke sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body.  

“Stay still,” she orders, pressing her heel against your tip just enough to make you gasp. “You move, and I stop. Got it?”  

You nod frantically, your hands gripping the sheets as you fight to keep yourself in place. “Y-yeah, I got it,” you stammer.  

“Good boy,” she purrs, her voice dripping with condescension as her feet resume their slow, teasing movements.  

The room fills with the obscene sound of her slick feet stroking you, the wetness amplifying every glide. She watches you intently, her lips curling into a smirk every time you let out a ragged moan or bite your lip to hold back a louder one.  

“Look at you,” she murmurs, her feet pressing tighter around your cock as she moves faster. “All that attitude earlier, and now you’re just a whimpering little mess. Bet you’d do anything I told you to right now, huh?”  

“Y-yes,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.  

She grins triumphantly, her toes brushing against your tip in a way that makes your entire body shudder. “That’s what I thought,” she says, her voice low and teasing. “You’re such a good little loser when you’re like this. Makes me almost want to keep you around.”  

You groan, your hips jerking slightly despite her earlier warning. Her smirk widens as she presses her feet down harder, the added pressure making you gasp.  

“Getting close already?” she asks, her tone dripping with amusement. “Wow, you really are pathetic. Guess I’d better slow down, huh?”  

“Please don’t,” you beg, your voice breaking.  

Her laugh is low and wicked as she leans back slightly, her feet never stopping their relentless motion. “I dunno,” she says playfully. “Maybe I’ll let you cum… if you beg me properly.”  

Her words send a fresh wave of heat through you, and you can’t help but moan. “Please, Yujin. Please let me cum. I’ll do anything you want.”  

Her smirk softens into something almost approving. “That’s better,” she says, her feet stroking you faster now. “Now, let’s see just how much of a mess you can make for me.” 

Yujin’s feet slide up and down your cock with maddening precision, the slick warmth of your spit coating every inch of her smooth skin. Each movement sends sparks of pleasure coursing through your body, and her smug smirk only makes it worse. She knows exactly what she’s doing—driving you insane with a combination of physical control and that sharp tongue of hers.  

“Look at you,” she says, her voice low and dripping with mockery. “I’ve barely touched you, and you’re already falling apart. You’re such a fucking mess.”  

Your hands grip the sheets tightly, your breath coming in short gasps. “Y-Yujin…” you stammer, but she doesn’t let you finish.  

“Don’t talk,” she snaps, pressing her toes against the sensitive tip of your cock. The pressure makes you moan loudly, your hips jerking against her feet. “Just moan for me like the desperate little virgin you are.”  

The words even hit you with a certain impact, but the pleasure is too overwhelming for you to even protest. “I’m not—”  

“Shut up,” she interrupts, her feet sliding faster now, the wet sounds filling the room. “Do you really think I believe that? You’re pathetic. A loser. But you’re my loser tonight, aren’t you?”  

“Yes,” you gasp, your voice barely audible.  

She smirks, clearly pleased with your response. Her hand disappears under her shorts again, and this time, she doesn’t bother to hide what she’s doing. Her fingers move rhythmically, and she lets out a soft moan, her hips rocking slightly.  

“You like this, don’t you?” she says, her voice breathy but still full of authority. “Being under me. Being humiliated by me. You missed it, didn’t you?”  

Your breath catches, and for a moment, you can’t speak. She doesn’t let up, her feet sliding faster, her toes curling around you just right. “Answer me,” she demands.  

“Yes,” you finally admit, your voice cracking as the confession spills out. “Yes, I missed it.”  

Her grin widens, her movements growing more deliberate. “Missed what, exactly? Be specific.”  

You groan, your head pressing back against the pillow. “I missed… I missed you,” you manage between ragged breaths.  

“Missed me?” she repeats, her laughter soft and condescending. “That’s cute. But what about me, huh? Did you miss being humiliated? Miss the attention I gave you? Did you miss the way I used to push you around?”  

Your chest tightens, and the words tumble out before you can stop them. “Yes! Fuck, yes, I missed it. I missed you. I missed… how aggressive you were.”  

She lets out a low, triumphant hum, her hand moving faster under her shorts as she leans forward slightly. “You missed me putting you in your place, didn’t you?”  

“Yes,” you moan, your voice desperate now.  

“And now you’re here,” she purrs, her toes pressing down against the head of your cock, drawing a strangled gasp from you. “Completely under my control. Look at you, squirming under my feet like a little bitch. I bet you’re loving every second of it.”  

“I am,” you admit.

“God, you’re such a loser,” she says, her feet sliding faster, the wet sounds growing louder. “But at least you’re my loser. Tell me how much you love this. Tell me how much you love me.”  

“I love it,” you gasp, your body trembling as you edge closer and closer to release. “I love you, Yujin. Fuck, I love you.”  

Her smirk softens slightly, just enough to make you wonder if she’s taking this all in stride or actually enjoying it as much as you are. Her toes curl around you again, and the friction pushes you right to the edge.  

“Go on, then,” she says, her voice low and sultry. “Paint my feet with your virgin load. Show me what a good little foot bitch you can be."

She speeds up her movements again, her feet working your shaft with practiced skill. The pressure builds and builds until you can't take it anymore. With a strangled cry, your orgasm explodes making you roll your eyes. 

Your cock pulses violently as thick ropes of cum shoot out, coating her soles and toes in your hot seed. She doesn't stop moving her feet, milking every last drop from your twitching member as you shake and moan helplessly.

"Holy fuck, look how much you came," Yujin laughs, spreading her toes to watch the cum drip between them. "Guess you really did need this release badly. Been saving up all this spunk just for my feet, haven't you?"  

You nod weakly, your body still trembling as the last waves of pleasure roll through you. She pulls her feet away, inspecting them with an amused grin before wiping them on the sheets.  

“Hope you’re ready,” she says, her voice light but wicked. “We’re just getting started.”  

The room feels heavy with the aftermath, the air thick with the scent of cum and sweat. You’re sprawled out on the bed, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Before you can fully recover, she leans in.  

Her face is so close that you can feel her breath on your lips, warm and teasing. Her eyes lock onto yours, a spark of mischief and something darker flickering there. Her lips brush against yours, just barely, a ghost of a touch that sends shivers down your spine.  

“Do you want me to kiss you?” she whispers, her voice low and sultry, dripping with temptation.  

“Yes,” you breathe, barely able to get the word out.  

She smirks, leaning back just a fraction. “Say it,” she demands, her tone sharp. “Say you belong to me.”  

Your heart pounds in your chest as her eyes bore into yours. “I… I belong to you,” you stammer, the words feeling both foreign and natural in your mouth.  

“Good boy,” she purrs, and then her lips crash against yours.  

It’s electrifying. Her mouth moves against yours with a mix of dominance and hunger, her lips soft but demanding. The taste of her consumes you, your head spinning as her hand cups your jaw, holding you exactly where she wants you.  

When she finally pulls back, your lips are tingling, your breath coming in shallow gasps. She studies your face with a satisfied smirk. “Was that your first kiss?”  

Your face burns, and you nod, too embarrassed to speak.  

“Holy shit,” she murmurs, her voice filled with disbelief and delight. “Your first fucking kiss. God, you’re such a loser.” Her smirk deepens, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw. “But you’re my loser...”  

Her words make you shiver, and she leans in again, her lips hovering over yours. “Open your mouth,” she orders softly.  

You obey, your lips parting instinctively, and she spits directly into your mouth. The warm, salty taste coats your tongue, and before you can even process it, her mouth is on yours again.  

This time, the kiss is messier, wetter. Her tongue invades your mouth, exploring and claiming, and you can’t help but respond, your own tongue meeting hers in a clumsy but eager dance. Spit mixes and drips down your chin, but you don’t care. All that matters is her, the way she tastes, the way she’s completely consuming you.  

When she finally pulls back, a string of saliva connects your lips, and she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, looking down at you with that same infuriatingly smug grin.  

“Are you going to take everything I give you?” she asks, her voice low and demanding.  

“Yes,” you reply immediately, your voice shaky but certain.  

“Promise me,” she says, her tone softer but no less commanding.  

“I promise,” you say, your eyes locking onto hers.  

She sighs dramatically, shaking her head with a playful smirk. “God, it’s so fucking annoying how wet you make me. You’re such a pathetic little virgin, but you’re driving me insane.”  

Her words send a fresh wave of heat through your body, and she sits up, her fingers hooking into the waistband of her shorts. She slides them down slowly, revealing her soaked panties, the fabric clinging to her skin.  

“Your turn to please me now,” she says, pushing her panties to the side to reveal her glistening folds. The sight is mesmerizing, and your throat tightens as you take her in.  

“If you eat my pussy well,” she continues, climbing onto the bed and positioning herself over you, “I might just reward you. But if you suck at it…” She smirks, her thighs flexing slightly. “Let’s just say I’ll be very disappointed.”  

She shifts closer, her knees on either side of your head, her thighs framing your face. Her scent is intoxicating, heady and warm, and you can feel the heat radiating from her core.  

“Are you ready to be squeezed by my thighs again?” she asks, her voice teasing but firm.  

“Yes,” you reply, your voice trembling with anticipation.  

“Good,” she says. “Now don’t disappoint me, loser.”

Yujin lowers herself onto your face slowly, deliberately, the wet heat of her pussy pressing against your lips for the first time. You’re instantly overwhelmed—her scent, her warmth, the slickness of her folds—it’s all so new, so intense.  

You freeze, unsure of what to do. Your tongue flicks out hesitantly, just barely brushing her, and you hear her scoff from above.  

“Don’t just sit there, nerd,” she says, her voice sharp but tinged with amusement. “Start licking. God, do I have to teach you everything?”  

You nod against her, your hands awkwardly resting on her thighs as you try to figure it out. “Yes,” you mumble, your voice muffled by her.  

She lets out a frustrated sigh, reaching down to grab your hair and yank your head back slightly. “Fine. Listen up,” she commands. “Start with my clit. It’s the little nub at the top. Just lick it softly—don’t get all sloppy yet. Got it?”  

“Got it,” you mutter, and tentatively, your tongue moves to where she’s directed. You find the sensitive bundle of nerves and give it a slow, deliberate lick.  

“Yeah, like that,” she murmurs, her voice softening slightly. “But don’t be afraid to use your whole tongue. Make it feel good for me.”  

You nod again, more confident now, and start swirling your tongue around her clit, alternating between soft licks and gentle flicks. The reaction is immediate—her thighs twitch slightly against your head, and she lets out a low, pleased hum.  

“Not bad,” she says, her voice teasing. “For a first-timer, anyway. Keep going. Use your lips too—suck on it a little.”  

You obey without hesitation, wrapping your lips around her clit and sucking gently. Her soft moan above you sends a rush of adrenaline through your system, and you grip her thighs tighter, wanting to hear more.  

“Fuck,” she mutters, her hand still tangled in your hair as she starts to grind against your face. “You’re learning fast, aren’t you? Maybe you’re not as useless as I thought.”  

Her words spur you on, and you press your tongue flat against her, licking her in long, slow strokes before returning to her clit. Her wetness coats your lips and chin, and you find yourself savoring the taste—warm, slightly salty, and completely intoxicating.  

Her moans grow louder, but her tone remains dominant, even now. “Don’t get cocky,” she warns, her hips rolling against your mouth. “You’re doing okay, but I want more. Stick your tongue inside me.”  

Your heart pounds as you comply, your tongue darting into her entrance. Her slick walls clench around you, and the sensation is overwhelming. You push deeper, your nose brushing against her clit as you try to keep up with her grinding.  

“Fuck, that’s it,” she breathes, her dominant tone cracking just slightly as her pleasure builds. “You’re finally starting to get it. Keep going, don’t you dare stop.”  

Her taste is addictive, her heat pulling you in, and you lose yourself in the act. Your hands slide up her thighs, holding her hips steady as you thrust your tongue in and out of her, your lips dragging against her folds with every movement.  

“God, you’re such a little slut for me,” she says, her voice trembling with pleasure. “Getting addicted to my pussy, huh? I can feel it—you don’t want to stop, do you?”  

You shake your head against her, your tongue never faltering.  

Her laughter is breathy, almost ragged now. “Of course you don’t. You’re fucking addicted already. Good. That’s exactly where I want you.”  

Her thighs tighten around your head, squeezing just enough to make you feel completely trapped beneath her. Her grinding grows more frantic, her slickness dripping down your chin, and you can feel her body trembling as she approaches her climax.  

“Don’t stop,” she commands, her voice breaking into a moan. “Fuck, don’t you fucking stop.”

Yujin’s moans fill the room, soft and breathy at first but quickly growing louder, more desperate. Each sound she makes sends a surge of adrenaline through you, pushing you to work harder, your tongue flicking and swirling against her clit, dipping into her soaked folds. Her taste is addictive, her slickness coating your lips and chin, and you’re completely lost in the moment.  

“Fuck,” she hisses, her hand gripping your hair tighter, her hips rolling against your face. “You’re actually good at this. Keep going, loser. Don’t stop.”  

Her praise—if you can even call it that—makes your heart pound harder. You grip her thighs, your hands trembling slightly as you pull her closer, burying your face even deeper between her legs. Your tongue moves faster now, swirling around her clit before sliding down to tease her entrance.  

“Goddamn,” she moans, her voice muffled as she bites her lip, clearly struggling to keep quiet. Her head tilts back, and her free hand flies up to cover her mouth. “Shit… I can’t—my mom—fuck, don’t stop, loser, just… don't go all out like that.”  

You’re too focused to respond, your tongue pressing firmly against her clit as you suck gently, your lips dragging against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Her thighs clamp tighter around your head, and you can feel her whole body trembling, her hips grinding harder against your face.  

“Shit, shit, shit,” she mutters under her breath, her hand still covering her mouth as her muffled moans escape. “If they hear—fuck, it’s so good—I swear I’ll kill you if you stop now.”  

You have no intention of stopping. 

Her moans are your fuel, and you redouble your efforts, your tongue working furiously to push her closer to the edge. You flick your tongue rapidly against her clit, sucking softly between strokes, and her reaction is immediate.  

“Fuck!” she whispers harshly, her hips bucking against your face. “Right there—yeah, your tongue is perfect!"

Yujin’s thighs tighten around your head, the wet heat of her pussy pressing harder against your lips as her moans grow louder, more urgent. Every breathy whimper, every shaky sigh she lets out fuels you, pushing you to work harder, your tongue flicking and swirling with renewed determination.  

“Shit,” she gasps, her voice cracking. Her hand flies to her mouth again, muffling her next moan. “God, you’re gonna get us caught, you idiot—” Her words cut off into a muffled moan as her hips grind harder against your face.  

You don’t stop. If anything, her desperation spurs you on. You flick your tongue rapidly against her clit, sucking gently before dipping down to explore her folds, her slick juices coating your lips and chin. The taste of her is intoxicating, and you can’t get enough.  

“Fuck, fuck,” she mutters behind her hand, her thighs trembling against your head. “You’re actually—oh my god—you’re actually good at this.”  

Her hips start moving erratically, grinding against your face with an urgency that makes your heart race. She’s close, you can feel it in the way her body tenses, in the way her moans pitch higher despite her efforts to muffle them.  

“Don’t stop,” she whispers harshly, her voice barely audible over the wet sounds of your tongue against her. “Fuck, don’t you dare stop—”  

You tighten your grip on her thighs, holding her steady as you give it your all, your tongue focusing on her clit, flicking and circling as her grinding grows frantic. Her juices drip down your chin, warm and slick, and you don’t care about the mess—you’re too consumed by the need to push her over the edge.  

“Oh my god,” she gasps, her voice muffled but trembling. “I’m—fuck, I’m gonna—”  

Her body stiffens suddenly, her thighs clamping tightly around your head as a muffled cry escapes her lips. Her hips jerk against your face, and you feel a rush of warmth as she cums, her juices flooding your mouth and dripping down your chin.  

You keep going, your tongue moving gently now, lapping up every drop as she rides out her orgasm. Her hand falls from her mouth, and she lets out a shaky sigh, her body trembling above you.  

“Holy shit,” she mutters, her voice raw and breathless. She shifts slightly, her thighs relaxing their grip on your head, and you pull back just enough to meet her gaze. Her face is flushed, her chest rising and falling as she catches her breath.  

“You actually… you actually made me cum,” she says, her tone laced with disbelief and a hint of amusement. “I didn’t think you had it in you, loser.”  

You manage a weak smile, your lips and chin still glistening with her juices.  

She smirks, leaning down to wipe your chin with her thumb before sucking it clean with a satisfied hum. “Guess you’re good for something after all,” she says, her voice soft but teasing. “Now, lick me clean. Every last drop.”  

Yujin slides off your face, leaving you breathless, her thighs glistening with her slick juices. She collapses onto the bed, spreading her legs lazily, her pussy still flushed and dripping. “Come on, you’ve got work to do,” she says, tilting her head toward her wet thighs. “Clean me up.”  

You nod wordlessly, leaning in and pressing your tongue to the inside of her thigh. Her skin is soft and warm, her taste still fresh on your lips. You drag your tongue up slowly, savoring every drop, alternating between long licks and soft kisses.  

Her fingers thread through your hair as she watches you work. “What do you think of my taste?” she asks, her voice low and teasing.  

You glance up at her, your lips brushing against the curve of her thigh. “It’s perfect,” you say, your voice full of reverence.  

A satisfied smile spreads across her face, and she props herself up on one elbow. “Good boy,” she purrs. “You’ve earned a reward.”  

Before you can ask what she means, she pulls her tank top over her head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. Her bare breasts are revealed—average-sized, perky, with small, pink nipples that practically beg for attention. She lies on her side next to you, her body relaxed but her eyes sharp as she studies your reaction.  

“First time seeing tits in real life?” she asks, her tone a mix of curiosity and mockery.  

You nod, your face flushing. “Y-yeah.”  

She smirks, leaning closer. “You wanna touch them?”  

Your throat feels dry as you nod again, unable to tear your eyes away from her chest.  

“Ask nicely,” she demands, her voice taking on that commanding edge again.  

You swallow hard, your voice trembling as you say, “Yujin, can I… can I touch them, please?”  

She grins, clearly enjoying your nervousness. “Go ahead,” she says, arching her back slightly to push her chest closer to you.  

Your hands tremble as you reach out, your fingers brushing against her soft skin for the first time. The sensation is incredible—warm, supple, and completely new. You cup her breasts gently, your thumbs brushing over her nipples, and she lets out a soft hum of approval.  

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” she asks, her voice softer now, almost tender.  

“Yeah,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.  

“Don’t be shy,” she says, her smirk returning. “You can squeeze them. Play with them.”  

You obey, your hands moving more confidently now. You massage her breasts, your fingers exploring every curve and dip, your thumbs circling her nipples until they harden under your touch. She arches her back slightly, pressing into your hands, her breath hitching.  

“Good,” she murmurs. “Now suck them.”  

You don’t hesitate. You lean down, your lips wrapping around one of her nipples as your tongue flicks against it. She lets out a soft sigh, her hand resting on the back of your head to keep you in place.  

“Fuck,” she breathes, her voice thick with pleasure. “You’re eager, huh? Like a starving puppy.”  

Her words make your cock twitch, already rock-hard again. You switch to her other breast, sucking and licking with the same enthusiasm, your hands kneading her soft flesh.  

She notices your arousal, of course, her hand trailing down your body until it wraps around your shaft. “You’re so fucking hard again,” she murmurs, stroking you slowly. “It’s almost pathetic how much you want this.”  

You let out a muffled groan against her breast, your hips jerking into her hand as she strokes you with practiced ease. Her thumb glides over your tip, spreading the pre-cum leaking from you.  

“God, you’re such a mess,” she teases, her voice full of mockery and heat. “But you’re my mess.”  

Yujin’s fingers work your cock with a steady, teasing rhythm, her hand warm and slick from your pre-cum. Meanwhile, your mouth is still on her breasts, sucking and licking her hardened nipples with devotion. You feel intoxicated—her scent, her taste, the way she completely controls every second of this—it’s all too much, yet not enough.  

You get carried away, your teeth grazing her nipple just a bit too hard. She gasps, her back arching, and suddenly her hand tightens around your cock, squeezing just enough to make you freeze.  

“Hey!” she snaps, her tone sharp as her eyes narrow. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You can’t just bite a woman’s nipples like that.”  

You pull back immediately, your face heating up. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, looking up at her.  

She huffs, her fingers loosening but still holding you firmly. “God, you’ve got so much to learn,” she mutters, shaking her head. “What are you, a fucking caveman? Be gentle.”  

“Yes, I’m sorry,” you say again, swallowing hard.  

She lets out a dramatic sigh. “At least you’re eager. I’ll give you that. But don’t fuck up again, or I might just leave you here with blue balls.”  

You nod quickly, your lips returning to her breast, this time much more careful. She relaxes again, her smirk returning as her hand resumes stroking you. “That’s better,” she murmurs, her voice softening. “Good boy. Keep sucking.”  

You lose yourself in the moment, your lips wrapping around her nipple, your tongue flicking and swirling while her hand works you faster. The combination of sensations is almost too much to handle, and you let out a muffled moan against her skin.  

“God, you’re so fucking loud,” she mutters, her fingers sliding up to rub your sensitive tip. “If you keep making noises like that, they’re gonna hear us.”  

She pulls back suddenly, her breasts leaving your mouth as she sits up, looking down at you with a wicked grin. “I think it’s time, don’t you?”  

“Time for what?” you ask, breathless and dazed.  

“For me to fuck you,” she says simply.

Your heart skips a beat, and you nod quickly. “Yes. Please.”  

She chuckles, leaning in close. “You sure?” she asks, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “I’m not stopping until I cum, so you’d better keep up.”  

“I’m sure,” you say, your voice trembling.  

Her grin widens as she pulls away, finally standing up beside the bed. “Maybe it won’t be too hard,” she says, eyeing your cock. “With a dick that big, you might actually make me feel something.”  

She hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, sliding them down slowly, teasingly, until they fall to the floor. Her pussy is glistening, flushed and ready, and you can’t take your eyes off her.  

“Open your mouth,” she commands suddenly.  

You blink, confused. “What?”  

She picks up her soaked panties and dangles them in front of your face. “You heard me. Open your mouth.”  

“Shouldn’t you be the one gagged with them?” you blurt out, unable to stop yourself.  

She lets out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “Oh my god, you’re adorable,” she says mockingly. “But no, loser. You don’t get to make the rules here. Now open up, or I’ll reconsider this whole thing.”  

You hesitate for only a second before obeying, parting your lips.  

“Good boy,” she says, smirking as she presses the damp fabric into your mouth. The taste of her is overwhelming—warm, musky, and undeniably intoxicating. “See? You love the way I taste anyway, don’t you?”  

You nod, your cheeks burning as she climbs back onto the bed, positioning herself above you.  

“Keep those in,” she orders, her hands planting on your chest as she straddles your hips. “I don’t want to hear a fucking peep out of you.”  

Her wet folds brush against the tip of your cock, and the sensation is electric, making your whole body tense. She grins down at you, her eyes locking onto yours as she teases you, grinding against you without letting you inside.  

“Ready, loser?” she asks, her voice dripping with mockery and heat.  

You nod frantically, muffled sounds escaping around the panties in your mouth.  

“Good,” she murmurs, positioning herself before sinking down onto you in one slow, deliberate motion.  

The heat and tightness of her envelop you completely, and the sensation is almost too much to handle. Your head falls back against the pillow, muffled groans spilling out as she bottoms out, her hips resting flush against yours.  

“Fuck,” she mutters, biting her lip as she adjusts to your size. “Maybe you’re not completely useless after all.”  

She starts to move, her hips rolling slowly at first, her wetness making every movement smooth and maddening. Her hands slide up your chest, her nails digging in slightly as she picks up the pace, riding you with a confidence that leaves you breathless.  

“God, you feel so fucking good,” she moans.

Yujin's hips roll against you with an almost punishing rhythm, her wetness making every thrust slick and smooth. Her moans escape her lips in breathy, desperate bursts, and she bites her lip, trying and failing to keep them low. The whole scene feels unreal—Yujin, the girl who made your life hell in high school, is now on top of you, her pussy gripping you so tight it feels like she was made for this.  

“Fuck,” she whispers, her voice trembling as she rides you harder. “You’re actually doing it for me. Who knew this pathetic little loser would have such a good cock?”  

You can’t reply, not with her soaked panties stuffed in your mouth, so you nod instead, your muffled groans mixing with the obscene sounds of her riding you.  

Her hands slide up to her breasts, squeezing and kneading them as her pace quickens. Her nipples, hard and pink, peek between her fingers as she teases herself, and the sight makes your cock twitch inside her.  

“You like watching me, don’t you?” she asks, her voice sultry but still laced with that teasing edge. “Bet you’ve been dreaming about this, huh? Your big bad bully fucking the shit out of you.”  

You nod frantically, your eyes glued to her chest as her hands work her breasts.  

“Thought so,” she purrs, smirking down at you. “Am I hot? Tell me I’m fucking hot.”  

You nod again, your muffled voice straining around the fabric in your mouth.  

She laughs breathlessly, her hips slamming down harder now. “God, you’re so easy. Just a big, dumb dick for me to use. And fuck, you feel so fucking good.”  

Her moans grow louder, and she presses one hand against her mouth, her other hand still massaging her breast. “Shit, I can’t be too loud,” she mutters, grinding harder. “Your dad and my mom would fucking kill us if they knew what we were doing.”  

The thought of being caught only seems to turn her on more, her movements becoming more frantic as she chases her own pleasure. You’re completely at her mercy, her pussy clenching around you in perfect rhythm, her thighs flexing as she rides you like she owns you.  

But then she slows, her hands sliding down to your chest as she leans over you, her breath hot against your ear. “Let’s change it up,” she whispers, her voice dripping with authority.  

She pulls off you with a slick, wet sound, leaving you throbbing and desperate. Grabbing your wrists, she maneuvers you onto your back, your legs spreading awkwardly as she positions herself between them.  

“This is called the Amazon position,” she says, her tone mocking as she smirks down at you. “You’re about to get fucked properly.”  

She straddles your waist, your cock pressing against her soaked folds again as she grips your thighs for leverage. With one hand, she lines you up, her other hand pressing against your chest to keep you in place.  

“Ready?” she asks, her smirk widening as she looks down at you.  

You nod, your muffled groan turning into a desperate whimper as she sinks down onto you again, her pussy taking you in inch by inch.  

“Fuck,” she breathes, her head tilting back as she adjusts to the new angle. “You’re so fucking deep like this. God, I might actually let you cum if you keep feeling this good.”  

Her hands grip your thighs tighter as she starts moving, her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles. The position gives her complete control, and she takes full advantage, slamming down onto you with a force that makes the bed creak beneath you.  

“Look at you,” she taunts, her voice trembling with pleasure. “Lying there like a good little toy, letting me use you. Bet you’ve never had a girl take charge like this, huh?”  

You shake your head, your hands gripping the sheets as she rides you relentlessly, her moans filling the room despite her earlier efforts to keep quiet.  

“God, you’re so fucking easy,” she pants, her movements becoming faster, more erratic. “I could do this all night. Fuck, I might have to—I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this dick.”  

Yujin’s hips roll and slam against you with abandon now, the room filled with the wet, obscene sounds of her pussy taking you over and over. Her breathing is heavy, her moans louder, no longer restrained. It’s as if she’s forgotten where you are—or maybe she just doesn’t care anymore. The way her nails dig into your chest, her thighs flexing with each thrust, tells you she’s chasing her high, and nothing else matters.  

Your body arches beneath her, the sensation overwhelming, her wet heat gripping you so tightly it feels like she’s molding herself to your cock. You can’t help it anymore—the panties in your mouth feel suffocating. With trembling hands, you yank them out and gasp, your voice cracking as you moan, “Fuck, Yujin… this feels so good. I’m—I’m loving this.”  

Her head snaps down, her eyes locking onto yours, a mix of dominance and amusement lighting up her face. “Oh yeah?” she pants, her pace not faltering for a second. “You love being fucked by me? You love being under me like this?”  

“Yes,” you moan, your voice shaky but full of conviction. “I fucking love it.”  

She laughs, low and breathless, her lips curling into that wicked smirk that’s burned into your mind. “Of course you do,” she says, leaning forward slightly, her hips still slamming into you with precision. “You’re my little whore, aren’t you?”  

“Yes,” you gasp, your hands clutching the sheets as her words send another wave of heat through you.  

“Say it,” she commands, her voice sharp despite the tremor of pleasure in it. “Say you’re my little whore.”  

“I’m your little whore,” you cry out, your voice cracking as her movements grow more frantic.  

She bites her lip, her head falling back for a moment before she looks down at you again, her eyes burning with intensity. “Do I own you?” she asks, her voice softer now, almost intimate, but the demand in her tone is unmistakable.  

“Yes,” you say, your voice trembling. “You own me. I belong to you, Yujin.”  

Yujin’s movements become erratic, her hips grinding down onto you with a desperate rhythm, her thighs trembling as she takes you deeper with every thrust. The Amazon position lets her dominate you completely, her hands pressing firmly against your chest for leverage.

The wet, obscene sounds of her pussy swallowing your cock echo in the room, mingling with her moans, which are growing louder and less controlled. She’s past caring about being overheard, her voice shaky and raw as her pleasure builds to a fever pitch.  

“Fuck,” she gasps, her head tilting back, her hair cascading over her shoulders as she loses herself in the sensation. “You feel so fucking good… I’m so close.”  

Her thighs flex around your waist, her entire body trembling with the effort to ride you faster, harder. She leans forward, her face hovering inches above yours, her breath hot and ragged as she looks into your eyes. “You’re such a fucking loser,” she pants, her lips curling into a smirk even as her voice shakes. “But this cock… god, this cock is fucking perfect.”  

You groan beneath her, your hands gripping the sheets as her pussy clenches tighter around you. The heat, the pressure, the way she moves—it’s all too much, and you can barely hold on as she takes you closer to the edge.  

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” she cries out, her voice cracking as her pace grows frantic. Her hands slide up to her breasts, squeezing and teasing her own nipples as she rides you like her life depends on it. “Don’t you fucking dare come now,” she orders, her tone desperate now. “Just… fuck, just stay right there.”  

Her hips slam down onto you one last time, her body stiffening as she throws her head back with a loud, guttural moan. Her pussy clamps down around your cock, squeezing and pulsing as her orgasm crashes over her like a tidal wave. Her thighs tremble violently, and her nails dig into your chest hard enough to leave marks as she grinds down onto you, riding out every last wave of pleasure.  

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she chants, her voice raw and breathless as her body jerks against yours. Her slickness floods around you, the heat of her orgasm soaking your thighs and dripping down onto the bed.  

When she finally collapses forward, her chest pressing against yours, her breath comes in ragged gasps, her hair sticking to her damp skin. She’s still trembling slightly, her pussy fluttering around your cock as the last aftershocks of her climax ripple through her.  

“Holy shit,” she mutters against your neck, her voice low and hoarse. “That was fucking insane.”  

You stay still beneath her, your cock still hard inside her as her slick heat surrounds you. She lifts her head after a moment, her smirk returning as she looks down at you, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your chest.  

“You didn’t cum yet, did you?” she asks, her tone smug.  

You shake your head, your breath still uneven.  

“Good,” she says, biting her lip as her hips shift slightly, her pussy still gripping you tightly. “Because I’m not done with you yet. Your cock is amazing.”

You smile weakly, your hands resting on her back as you catch your breath. “You’re… pretty amazing yourself,” you manage, your voice still shaky.  

She chuckles softly, her breath warm against your skin. “Damn right I am.”  

For a while, you just lie there together, your bodies tangled, the post-orgasm haze making everything feel surreal. Especially Yujin, who is kissing you with a tenderness you would never expect from her.  

Then, a sharp knock on the door shatters the quiet.  

“Everything okay in there?” your dad’s voice calls out, muffled through the wood.  

Your heart stops, and Yujin’s eyes snap open, wide with panic. She looks at you, mouthing, do something!

“Y-yeah!” you call back, trying to sound casual.  

Your dad pauses for a moment. “I thought I heard a scream,” he says.  

“Oh, uh, I'm watching a movie!” you blurt out, your voice cracking slightly. “That must’ve been it.”  

“A movie?” he repeats, sounding skeptical.  

“Yeah,” you say quickly. “I’ll, uh, turn it down. Sorry about that.”  

There’s another pause before your dad finally says, “Alright. Just keep it down, okay? Yujin must be asleep already.”  

“Okay, no problem!” you reply, relief washing over you as you hear his footsteps retreating.  

You and Yujin stay frozen for a moment, then look at each other, wide-eyed. Slowly, a grin spreads across her face, and she starts laughing softly. You can’t help but join her, the tension melting away as you both dissolve into quiet, breathless giggles.  

“You’re fucking insane,” you whisper, shaking your head.  

She smirks, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “There’s nothing wrong with a little fun,” she says smugly.  

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “What does it feel like?” she asks suddenly, her voice softer now.  

“What?”  

“Being fucked by a woman,” she says, her smirk returning. “What’s it like?”  

You pause, your face flushing as you search for the right words. “It’s… the best feeling ever,” you admit. “Your pussy is so tight, it feels so fucking good.”  

Her smirk widens, and she sits up slightly, her hands resting on your chest. “Yeah?” she says, her voice teasing. “Wanna see how my pussy grips your cock?”  

Your breath catches, and you nod quickly. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice trembling.  

She grins wickedly, sliding off you and turning around. “Alright then,” she says, positioning herself on your thighs in a perfect reverse cowgirl. She glances over her shoulder, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Let’s see how much you can handle.”  

With that, she lowers herself onto you again, her wet heat enveloping you completely. The sight of her ass bouncing as she starts to ride you is almost too much to handle, and you grip her hips, your fingers sinking into her soft skin as she takes control once more.

Yujin’s hips move in slow, deliberate circles, her wet heat gripping your cock like a vice. From your vantage point, you have a perfect view of her pussy taking you in with every motion, clinging to you tightly as she lifts herself up and sinks back down. It’s mesmerizing—the way she moves is hypnotic, every roll of her hips precise and calculated.  

Her head tilts back slightly, her hands braced on your thighs for balance, her breathing steady but filled with quiet moans. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and it’s driving you crazy.  

“Fuck,” you mutter, your hands sliding up to her waist and then lower to her ass. You can’t help yourself—you squeeze her buttocks, soft and fleshy, feeling the way they move under your hands as she rides you.  

She chuckles breathlessly, glancing over her shoulder at you. “Like what you see?”  

“Yeah,” you gasp, your fingers digging into her skin as her pace remains maddeningly slow. “You’re fucking perfect.”  

“I know,” she purrs, arching her back slightly to give you an even better view. “Keep talking, loser. I like hearing how much you love this.”  

“You’re amazing,” you admit, your voice trembling. “The way you move, the way you feel… it’s fucking incredible.”  

Her smirk widens as she lets out a low moan, her pussy clenching around you in perfect rhythm. “Of course it is,” she teases. “I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you, and now you finally know it.”  

Your fingers tighten on her ass, your hips twitching involuntarily as she grinds down harder. The pleasure is almost unbearable, and then she slows again, her movements languid and torturous.  

“Yujin,” you groan, your voice strained.  

She glances back at you, her smirk turning wicked. “What?”  

“Don’t stop,” you plead, your hands gripping her tighter.  

“Oh, I’m not stopping,” she says, her voice dripping with amusement. “I’m just enjoying myself.”  

Her pace remains steady for a moment before she shifts her weight slightly, taking you deeper. Her wetness makes every movement smooth and slick, and the sound of it fills the room, mixing with your ragged breathing.  

Then, out of nowhere, she asks, “Do you want to cum inside me?”  

The question jolts you, and your heart skips a beat. “W-what?” you stammer, staring at her in shock.  

She giggles, rolling her hips in a way that makes your whole body shudder. “You heard me,” she says, her tone playful but teasing. “Do you want to cum inside me?”  

“I… I can’t,” you say quickly, panic creeping into your voice. “You could get pregnant.”  

Her laughter is wicked, and she glances back at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh, so you’re saying you’d like to get me pregnant, huh?”  

“What? No!” you protest, your face burning.  

“Think about it,” she continues, clearly enjoying your reaction. “The big, bad bully who made your life hell, walking around with your baby. Everyone would know it was you. Hell, I’d make sure they knew.”  

“Yujin!” you groan, equal parts embarrassed and aroused.  

“You’d love it, wouldn’t you?” she teases, her pussy tightening around you as she moves. “The thought of me, pregnant because of you. God, you’re such a perv.”  

“It’s exciting, yeah,” you admit reluctantly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But… no. I don’t want that.”  

She laughs again, the sound rich and sultry. “Relax,” she says, her tone softening slightly. “I’m on the pill, dumbass. I’ve been on it for a while.”  

You blink, her words catching you off guard. “Why?”  

“Maybe,” she says, leaning forward slightly, her hips still moving, “I was waiting for this moment.”  

The idea sends a jolt of arousal through you, and your cock twitches inside her. “Fuck,” you mutter, your voice shaky. “If that’s true… then yes. I want to cum inside you. I really fucking want to.”  

Her grin widens, and she lets out a low chuckle. “Of course you do,” she says smugly, her hands gripping your thighs as she picks up the pace.  

Her hips slam down harder now, the rhythm more erratic as she chases both of your highs. The sight of her pussy taking you in, the sound of her moans mixing with the wet slap of skin against skin—it’s almost too much, but you manage to hold on, even as the pressure builds inside you.  

“Don’t you fucking dare cum yet,” she warns, her voice breathy but firm. “Not until I say so.”  

Yujin’s movements grow frantic, her hips slamming down on your cock with an obscene rhythm. The sound of her ass smacking against your pelvis fills the room, wet and loud, accompanied by her uncontrollable moans. Her head tilts back, her hair cascading over her shoulders, and you’re completely transfixed by the sight of her ass bouncing on your cock, jiggling with every violent thrust.  

“Fuck, Yujin,” you gasp, your voice strained. “If you keep this up, I won’t be able to hold out.”  

She glances back at you, her face flushed and glistening with sweat, her lips curling into a devilish grin. “Don’t you dare,” she snaps, her breath coming in sharp gasps. “You hold on. I need to cum again!”  

You grip the sheets beneath you, your knuckles white as the pleasure builds to unbearable levels. She’s going wild now, her pace relentless, her moans louder and more desperate. Every thrust sends waves of heat coursing through your body, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge.  

“Yujin,” you groan, your voice barely audible. “I’m gonna cum. I can’t hold it.”  

She lets out a sharp cry, her nails digging into your thighs as she rides you harder. “No,” she barks, her tone commanding even as her moans turn ragged. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you? You’ll wait. You’ll cum when I say you can.”  

Her words send a shiver down your spine, and you struggle to nod, your breath hitching as she continues to take you to your limits.  

“That’s it,” she pants, her voice softening slightly. “You’re my good boy. You’ll wait for me. Just a little longer, okay? We’re gonna cum together.”  

Her encouragement is intoxicating, and you fight to hold back, even as her pace grows more erratic. The wet sound of her pussy taking your cock mixes with the obscene slap of her ass against you, and you can feel her walls tightening around you, clenching rhythmically.  

“I’m so close,” she moans, her voice trembling. “Hold on for me. Just a little more.”  

Your body trembles beneath her, your cock throbbing inside her as she leans forward slightly, her nails dragging down your thighs. Her dirty talk spills from her lips in breathless gasps, driving you both closer to the edge.  

“God, you’re so deep,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “I can feel every inch of you, stretching me so good. You’re gonna cum inside me, aren’t you?”  

“Yes,” you manage to choke out, your voice desperate.  

Her smirk returns, her hips slamming down harder. “You’re gonna fill me up,” she murmurs, her tone filthy. “Mix your cum with my juices. God, I want it so bad. I want your thick, hot cum in my pussy. Are you gonna give it to me?”  

“Yes,” you moan, your voice breaking as your grip on the sheets tightens.  

She lets out a loud, shaky cry, her movements growing wild and uncontrolled. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” she gasps, her head tilting back. “I’m cumming! Cum with me, baby, cum inside me!”  

Her words are your undoing. Your body jerks beneath her as your orgasm crashes over you, and you let out a loud, guttural moan as you release deep inside her. Her pussy clamps down on you, pulsing and milking you for everything you have as she cries out, her body trembling with the force of her climax.  

The two of you ride out the waves together, your bodies locked in rhythm as her walls squeeze you tightly, your cum flooding her. Her hips slow, her movements becoming more erratic as the last tremors of her orgasm roll through her. Finally, she collapses forward, her chest heaving as she rests against your thighs, her body still twitching from the intensity.  

“Fuck,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “That was… holy shit.”  

You’re too spent to reply, your chest rising and falling as you struggle to catch your breath. She stays there for a moment before slowly sitting up, a satisfied smirk spreading across her face.  

“Let’s see the damage,” she says, her tone playful but tired.  

She lifts herself off you slowly, and you watch as your cock slips out of her with a wet, lewd sound. Thick streams of cum drip from her swollen pussy, trailing down her thighs and pooling on the sheets beneath her.  

“Damn,” she murmurs, reaching down to swipe her fingers through the mess before holding them up to show you. “You really filled me up, huh?”  

You nod weakly, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight of her pussy still leaking your cum.  

She grins, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Not bad for a loser,” she teases softly. “Not bad at all.”  

The room is still, the air thick with the lingering heat of your bodies and the unmistakable scent of sex. Yujin sits beside you, her chest rising and falling as she catches her breath, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. You watch her, unable to tear your gaze away from the way her flushed skin glows under the soft light, her hair messy, her lips slightly swollen. Before you can stop yourself, you lean in and kiss her.  

It’s not a tentative kiss this time. It’s intense, filled with every ounce of passion you didn’t know you had left in you. Yujin freezes for a second, clearly taken aback by your sudden boldness, but she recovers quickly. Her lips move against yours, just as hungry as before, her hands cupping your face as if she’s trying to figure out what just got into you.  

When you finally pull back, her eyes are wide, searching yours. “Wow,” she says, letting out a small laugh. “Where the hell did that come from?”  

“I couldn’t help it,” you admit. “That was… the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”  

Yujin chuckles, a low, lazy sound that warms the environment. “Not gonna lie,” she says, brushing a strand of hair out of her face, “I think I might agree with you on that.”  

Your heart skips a beat, and you can’t stop the words that come tumbling out next. “You look really beautiful right now,” you say, your voice trembling slightly.  

Her smirk returns, but there’s something softer behind it this time. “Careful,” she teases, tilting her head. “Are you falling in love with me or something?”  

Your face burns instantly, and you fumble for a response. “No! I mean… I—uh, that’s not what I meant—”  

She cuts you off with a laugh, waving her hand dismissively. “Relax, loser. I’m just messing with you.” Her voice drops slightly, and she looks at you, almost shy. “But… maybe I like you too. Just a little.”  

“Do you mean you like me now,” you ask after a moment, your voice hesitant, “or… did you like me in high school?”  

She hesitates, chewing her lip as if deciding whether to answer honestly. “Yeah, since high school,” she admits finally, avoiding your gaze.  

“But… then why were you so mean to me?”  

She rolls her eyes, but her smirk doesn’t quite reach her eyes this time. “You only ever see the bad side of things,” she says, her tone playful but tinged with something serious. “Do you not remember how many times I kept other people from fucking with you?”  

You blink, the memory surfacing almost instantly. A group of older guys had cornered you once by the lockers, shoving you around, but before things got worse, Yujin had shown up like a goddamn storm cloud. She’d sent them scattering with nothing more than a sharp glare and a few choice words.  

“That was you,” you mutter, the realization sinking in.  

She shrugs, her expression carefully neutral. “Yeah, that was me. Look, I’m not good at showing feelings, alright? My love language is… teasing. Irritating people. Making their lives hell. It's my defense mechanism. It's complicated to explain."

“So, what you’re saying is… the more you teased me, the more you liked me?”  

Her face flushes, and she scowls, swatting your arm. “Don't feel special just because I told you this, dumbass.” She pauses, then mutters, “But… maybe.”  

You grin, the bittersweet humor of it all settling over you. “That means you must have liked me a lot, then.”  

“Shut up,” she grumbles, but her lips twitch into a reluctant smile as she leans in and kisses you again, softer this time.  

When she pulls back, she stretches out on the bed, looking far too comfortable. “Let’s watch your stupid Lion King movie,” she says.

You blink at her. “Didn’t you just make fun of it earlier?”  

She rolls her eyes. “I was teasing you, silly. Everyone loves Disney movies.”  

You laugh, shaking your head as you reach for your laptop on the desk, but something nags at you. “Shouldn’t you go back to your room?” you ask, glancing toward the door. “What if your mom or my dad heard us?”  

She smirks, unfazed. “First of all, your room is the last one in the hall, if they barely heard my screams before, they won't hear us now. Second, they both sleep like rocks. We’re fine.”  

Her confidence is oddly reassuring, and you relax a little as she scoots closer, resting her head on your shoulder.  

“What if they wake up early?” you ask, still not entirely convinced.  

She snorts. “I’ll sneak back before they do. Relax, loser. I’m not leaving yet.”  

The idea of her staying here, curled up next to you, makes your chest tighten in a way you don’t entirely understand. You glance down at her, and she catches your gaze, raising an eyebrow.  

“What?” she asks, her voice softer now.  

“Nothing,” you say quickly, but the small smile that tugs at your lips says otherwise.  

“Okay, let's change these sheets before we watch the movie,” says Yujin clapping her hands and getting up from the bed. “You need to wash them in secret tomorrow, don't forget.”

— 

After changing the sheets and Yujin brushing her teeth (and yes, she used your toothbrush), the two of you are in bed again, still naked, at Yujin's insistence. According to her, she loves the feeling of the soft blanket fabric against her bare skin.

You adjust the laptop on the bed, propping it up on a pillow so you both can see. "Alright, but if you start singing 'Hakuna Matata,' I swear..." you tease, giving her a playful nudge.

Yujin grins, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, I'll sing it alright. You'll be joining in by the end, just watch."

As the movie starts, you can't shake the surreal feeling of the whole situation. Here you are, watching The Lion King with Yujin, your new stepsister, both of you naked and sticky from what just went down. 

It's fucking weird, but also... kind of nice.

You glance down at her, her head resting on your shoulder. Her eyes are glued to the screen, a soft smile playing on her lips. She looks so different like this—relaxed, almost innocent. It's a far cry from the smirking, foul-mouthed girl who was jerking you off with her foot just minutes ago.

About halfway through the movie, you feel her hand creep onto your thigh, her fingers tracing small patterns on your skin. It's distracting, but you don't want her to stop. You cover her hand with yours, giving it a squeeze. She looks up at you, her smile softening even more.

"This is nice," she murmurs.

You nod, a lump forming in your throat. "Yeah, it is."

As the movie continues, you can't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. This is fucked up, no doubt about it. But it also feels... right. Like this is exactly where you're both meant to be, at least for tonight.

You push aside the nagging thoughts about what this means, about what happens next. For now, you just want to enjoy this moment, this strange, perfect little bubble you've found yourselves in.

As the credits roll, Yujin looks up at you, her eyes searching. "So, what the hell are we going to do with this?" she asks, her voice soft.

You shrug, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I don't know. But I'm glad you're here."

She smiles back, her hand squeezing yours. "Me too, loser. Me too.”

[7s3ven]

SINGLE DAD! X BABYSITTER! READER HAS ME FROTHING OMGG. Even better when the rest of TF 141 is involved

part 1 | part 2 (coming soon - rest of tf 141 introduced)

master list

MDNI 18+

Warnings: big age gap, babysitter! reader, reader is in medical school (but still legal guys)

You told yourself it was just a temporary summer job, something to fill your pockets over the Summer break as you moved into another year of university. Medical bills were not easy to pay off and your old job that paid the bare minimum did not help you in the least. All it taught you was that you had a nasty uppercut (from the time you actually hit someone and got fired).

So, you found yourself standing in front of John Price’s house. You stared up at the tall building, brows raised in surprise. He had understated how big his house was… it even had a garden and a pool. You may as well consider it a mansion.

You quickly rang the doorbell, smoothening out your tight blouse. Your much more appropriate one was in the wash so you prayed whoever answered the door did not notice.

It was a tall middle-aged who greeted you, beard cleanly trimmed and… a hat on his head. “Y/N L/N?” He asked you. You swiftly nodded, softly smiling when he stepped aside.

“So, medical school, huh? Training to become a doctor?” He asks as he brews you a cup of tea while you read over his terms and conditions.

“A surgeon, sir. Not much better, though.” You offer him another smile, hoping to ease the awkward tension.

“Right. Next time I need surgery, I’ll call you up.” He takes a sip from your tea, which you notice but you say nothing. “Just checkin’ the temperature. Wouldn’t want ya to burn yourself.” He hands you the mug, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment too long.

“I assume this is only a quick job for you? Just away to gain a bit of money to pay those student fees off?”

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you nod. “Yes, sir. I know I should have clarified it but I’m a little desperate at this point. Besides, no retail places want to hire me… after I hit someone.”

Your words intrigued him. He let out a low chuckle as he sat across from you. “Now I’m interested.”

“Well… there’s not much to it… a guy kept staring at my chest. He said some vulgar stuff and next thing I knew, I was punching him.”

Price shrugs, leaning back in his seat. “The lad was askin’ for it. So, what do you think about the job? You’ll honestly be a glorified babysitter. Just do some cleaning and cookin’ here and there and make my baby happy and you’ll get a nice pay check every week.”

It all happened in a blur. You agreed to the job and weeks later, you found yourself at Price’s house more than your apartment. You hadn’t stepped foot into your apartment since two days ago, Price generously allowing you to use one of the guest rooms.

“Lila has a sleepover tomorrow.” Price mentions as you’re reading the instructions on how to make cookies for Lila’s bake sale.

Based on the cooking skills you had seen from Price, you doubted he could bake very well. In fact, all he could cook was steak, which was general knowledge for dads.

“I can drop her off if needed.” You offer while opening the packet of flour only for it to explode in your face. You smacked your lips together, grimacing. “Not a word.” You mutter to Price who’s chuckling under his breath.

“Wasn’t gon’ a say anything, love.” He helps wipe the flour dust off your face, still grinning in amusement.

In all honesty, your relationship with Price felt a little too domesticated, especially right now as you wore a frilly apron he had bought just for you.

“Your skirt’s too short, by the way.” Price grumbles, attempting to tug it down. “You sure no creeps stared at you on your way ‘ere? Wouldn’t want ya in danger.”

You push his hands away from your hips. “Even if people were staring, I’ll just punch them.”

You had tried to maintain a professional relationship with your boss but it was hard when he carelessly manhandled you and treated you like his wife rather than his daughter’s babysitter.

And all professional behaviour came crashing down when he unexpectedly stood behind you as you whisked the cookie batter.

“You look like a coke addict.” Price jokes, referring to the flour that still stained your face. “Like you got it everywhere but up your nose.”

“I can assure you, sir, I have never tried coke unless my friend daring me to snort sherbet counts.”

Price grins at your biting remark, his heavy hands falling to your waist. “Yeah? Heard it doesn’t feel too good with sherbet.”

“Not in the slightest.”

His hands trail dangerously low but you don’t have the courage to ask him to stop… nor do you really want him too. He seems to sense your willingness as he rests his face in the crook of your neck, body pressed up tightly against yours.

You feel more like his spoiled wife than a medical student just trying to pay her bills.

“You’re pretty, ya know that? Surprised you don’ have a boyfriend… or girlfriend. Or partner. Dunno what your label is.”

With shaking hands, you place the bowl filled with cookie batter to the side, afraid you’ll only spill it.

“Never met a woman as soft as you… most think I chased Lila’s mother away. But nah. Her mother ran off, leavin’ me with a baby. Not that I’m complaining, I love Lila… and without her, I wouldn’ have met you.”

You’re reduced to listening to Price’s words, stuck between his larger frame and the marbled kitchen counter.

“Sir.” You whisper but it reaches his keen ears. Everything after that is a distorted blur and you find yourself bent over the counter, clad in nothing but the apron, with Price right behind you.

Price was a mystery to you. How could a man be turned on by something as simple as an apron? Though, he was a single dad so it made sense.

Price is muttering praises in your ears as your knees tremble, threatening to buckle. You never imagined you’d be in your employer’s kitchen, having your back blown out by the man himself.

His hands were hungrily climbing your body, gripping every bit of exposed skin he could find. If it wasn’t for him holding you upright, you would have toppled to the ground in a heartbeat.

You feel Price lift a hand to grip your hair, tugging at your locks. He’s in a desperate stupor but you’re not any better, pushing back your hips to meet his harsh thrusts.

“Gon’ a fill ya up. Give you a baby of yer own. Fuck… be so pretty just like you. My perfect little wife.” He grunts in your ear. You have no energy to correct him; that you’re not actually his wife but you’d have no complaints if he bought you a ring.

If anything, his words spur you on more.

Your chest is heaving by the time you near your release. You’re whining like a damn dog, high pitched noises slipping past your saliva-slicked lips. And you only grow in volume as Price speeds up, pressing his body against your back.

He’s older than you, that’s a fact you knew from the start, but he’s definitely more experienced as well. His well thought out words have the desired effect on you as the coil in your stomach snaps.

Your fluids drip down your exposed legs, hitting the tiles kitchen ground in thick droplets. You hear Price swear under his breath, quickly pulling out and staining your back white.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment as he rests his forehead on your shoulder. Then he leads you towards his bathroom, ushering you inside and handing you a spare set of clothes.

“Imma place your old ones in the washing, yeah?” He mutters, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before leaving you to wash off.

You sit on the shower floor for a good five minutes, replaying the moment in your head. When you finally cleanse yourself of sweat, you slip Price’s shirt over your head, inhaling the intoxicating smell of his cologne. It was the one you liked too.

His clothes engulfed you as you stumbled back into the kitchen, hobbling a little.

“I guess I’ll… get going then.” You murmur, fidgeting with your hands.

Price reaches out a hand to brush a strand of hair away from your face. Then he nods. “See you tomorrow night, lovie.”

Right, you still had to finish those cookies and pick up your clothes.

[bktempted]

Brain Stuff. You’re hunched over your desk, the glow of your laptop screen casting shadows across your cluttered apartment. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, ready to type the next paragraph of your dissertation — something about neural plasticity in machine learning models. It’s brilliant stuff, the kind of work that’s gotten you whispers of “genius” from your PhD advisors. You’re in the zone, your brain firing on all cylinders, when the front door clicks open.

“Hey, babe,” comes his voice, low and casual, like he doesn’t know what it does to you. Your boyfriend steps inside, shedding his jacket. He’s got that easy grin, the one that makes your stomach tighten. You glance up, meaning to say something sharp and witty, but he’s already peeling off his shirt, revealing the lean muscle underneath. Your mouth goes dry. The words you were about to type — something about synaptic pruning — slip away like sand through your fingers.

“Missed you today,” he says, crossing the room. He’s close now, close enough that you can smell the faint spice of his cologne. Your pulse kicks up, and you try to focus on the screen. You’re a goddamn scholar, you can handle this. But then he leans over your shoulder, his breath brushing your ear, and says, “What’s my smart girl working on?”

Your brain stutters. “Uh… it’s, um…” You squint at the screen, but the words lose their meaning. Neural what? Plasticity? Fuck, you know this. You wrote fifteen pages on it yesterday. His hand slides onto your shoulder, thumb brushing your neck, and your IQ takes a nosedive. “It’s… brain stuff,” you manage, voice small. You hate how stupid you sound, how you can feel your own brilliance leaking out of you as he closes the distance.

He chuckles, soft and loving, and that sound alone makes your thighs clench. “Brain stuff, huh? Tell me more.” His fingers dip lower, tracing the edge of your tank top, and you try — God, you try — to string a sentence together. “It’s about… how brains… change?” Your voice lilts up like a question, and you want to scream. You’re not some ditzy undergrad; you’re a fucking PhD candidate. But his hands are on your chest now, cupping you through your shirt, and your thoughts scatter like dropped marbles.

“C’mon, babe,” he teases, turning your chair to face him. “You’re usually so quick.” He’s smirking, and you hate how much you love it. You open your mouth to snap back, to prove you’ve still got it, but then he’s kissing you — hard, messy, all tongue and heat — and your mind goes blank. Not fuzzy, not slow, just empty. You kiss him back, hands fumbling to his waist, and all you can think is cock. One word, looping like a broken record.

He pulls you up, backing you toward the couch, and you trip over your own feet. Normally you’d curse yourself for being clumsy, but right now you just giggle — high pitched, brainless. “You’re so hot,” you blurt, and it’s the most coherent thing you’ve said in minutes. He grins, shoving his jeans down, and when you see him— hard, thick, right there — your knees buckle. You drop to the cushions, staring up at him, mouth slack. You should be analyzing data right now, not drooling like some horny idiot.

“Fuck, look at you,” he mutters, climbing over you. His hands yank your shorts off. You’re already so wet. You try to focus, one last chance to claw back a shred of intellect. “Wait, I — I need to finish—” you start, but then he’s pushing inside you, slow and deliberate, and the rest of the sentence evaporates. Your head lolls back, a moan spilling out instead. You feel him stretch you, fill you, and your brain shuts down completely. “Oh… oh God,” you whimper, legs wrapping around him on instinct.

He starts moving, thrusting deep, and you’re gone. No more dissertation, no more research — just his cock, slamming into you, turning you into a panting, writhing mess. “Tell me something smart,” he pants against your neck, mocking you now, and you want to, you need to, to prove you’re not this dumb slut he’s turning you into. “Th-the brain… it… f-fuck, it d—” You can’t finish. Every thrust scrambles your thoughts more, until you’re babbling nonsense, hips bucking to meet him.

You’re frustrated, somewhere deep down, because you know this isn’t you. You’ve presented at conferences, dismantled arguments from tenured professors, but right now you can’t even remember your own name. “Please,” you gasp, not sure what you’re begging for — him to stop, or keep going, or something else entirely. He grabs your hips, angles himself deeper, and you stop caring. “Sho… haaard…” you slur, drooling over the syllables, “sho… deeeep…”

He laughs, a low rumble. “That’s my girl. Just let go.” And you do, you can’t hold on anymore. He fucks you harder, faster, and you’re nothing but heat and need, whimpering every time he bottoms out. Your nails dig into his back, and you’re close — so close — then he groans, loud and guttural, and you feel his hot cum pour into every crevice. You climax alongside each other.

It’s instant. The second his cum hits you, it’s like a switch flips. Your vision clears, your breathing steadies, and your brain kicks back into gear. Synaptic pruning. Neural plasticity. Machine learning models. You blink up at him, still slick with sweat, and push him off with a shaky hand. “Rude,” you say, voice sharp again. He flops beside you, grinning, while you stagger to your desk, naked, his cum dripping down your thigh. You sit down, pull up your dissertation, and start typing like nothing happened — sentences crisp, ideas flowing.

“Welcome back, genius,” he calls, still sprawled on the couch, annoyingly smug. You don’t even look at him, but your lips twitch. Just ignore him, you’re back, and you’ve got work to finish. At least until he gets hard again.

[rafesangelita]

♡ jj gets sheep!reader high for the first time..

warnings: perv!jj, smoking, teasing, dirty talk, slight manipulation, corruption kink, implications of reader being a virgin, dubcon (?), making out, dry humping, thigh riding, tit play, nipple sucking, squirting

wc: 1.0k

“you gotta stop being scared of this stuff,” jj looked up at you from his spot on the floor, his choppy bangs falling in his face as he rolled up a joint on an old dingy magazine, “a little bit of weed doesn’t hurt nobody.” you sighed, allowing your chin to rest in your hands. “does john b let you smoke in here?” jj waved off your question before pulling your arm so you could sit down next to him. scrambling off of the old mattress, you yelped when his hand traveled underneath your skirt.

“john b isn’t here, so whatever he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” you watched as jj licked a line across the rolling paper, your cheeks heating once he caught you staring at his tongue. you looked away quickly as jj’s laugh echoed in your ears. “y/n, if you’re curious all you gotta do is let me know. i’d be more than happy to show you some tongue work.” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, the action only making you more embarrassed than you already were.

you were so easy to tease, jj leaned his back against the bed before handing you his lighter. “you light me up, sheep?” nodding pensively, jj watched as you lit the other end of his joint, the small flame flickering against your features. jj kept his eyes on you while he took the first drag, a laugh escaping him once he blew all the smoke in your face. you instantly sent yourself back, a string of coughs escaping your lips as you waved your hand in front of your face.

“why would you do that?!” you cried, softly shoving him away once he got you tucked into his side once again. “don’t get your panties in a twist, everyone does it, baby.” shaking your head, you crossed your arms over your chest as jj continued blowing puffs of smoke in your direction. with the windows shut and the door closed, it wasn’t long before the air in the room grew thick and hazy.

jj kept lighting up joint after joint, both of your brains becoming foggy as he pulled you on top of his lap. the cargo material of his shorts felt rough and scratchy against your skin, a lazy smile gracing his lips as he trailed his fingertips up and down your thighs. “when are you gonna let me get in these, hm?” you gasped softly when jj slipped his hand underneath the waistband of your underwear, the elastic snapping back against your flesh as he pulled and let go of the lace trim.

you giggled when you felt his lips on your neck, the sensation making you squirm in his lap. “fuck, keep moving like that..” he groaned, planting his hands on your hips so he could drag you up and down his clothed cock. you blinked slowly, a small whimper sounding from you when you felt his hard-on sit snuggly between your wet folds. “i don’t think we should be doing this, jayj. i feel a little funny—” jj cut you off with a searing kiss, his teeth nipping your bottom lip in the process.

“shhh— you’re just a little high, don’t worry. you’re in some really good hands.” he whispered, his eyes growing dark at the sight of you in your slightly confused state. “don’t you feel good?” he watched as your gaze flickered across his face, your hands finding his shoulders as he continued his ministrations. all it took was one stroke against your sensitive bundle of nerves before you grew desperate for more friction, the scruffy blonde in front of you wasting no time in scooting you down so you were seated on top of his thigh.

“let’s see how messy you can get..” at his words, jj motioned for you to start moving, your damp panties leaving behind a wet patch as you started grinding down on him. grabbing onto the ruffles of your skirt, jj helped guide you over his thigh while you whimpered pathetically to yourself. “feel this, feel what you do to me?” he grabbed your hand and placed it over his erection, “you have no idea how long i’ve fantasized but taking this virgin pussy.” he tsked, leaning in to kiss you sloppily.

“so fucking sweet and innocent, i’m gonna take all of that away soon i fucking promise you.” you could feel the coil in your tummy grow tighter and tighter with each stroke of your clit against his shorts, your eyes watering at the overwhelming pleasure wracking through your body. jj continued guiding your palm over his cock, his cheeks growing red as your whines turned into full blown cries, your tits spilling out of the sweetheart neckline of your top. “holy shit, these are perfect.” he marveled, rolling your sensitive buds between his fingers.

jj did the unthinkable as you nearly doubled over, your thighs burning with tension. “oh, jayj!” you cradled his head when he took your nipple in his mouth, his rough palm fondling the other as you approached the edge of your high. “mm— come on, give it to me, ‘pretty.” your hips stuttered as soon as you reached your climax, your orgasm making your heart beat in your ears as you let out a half shriek. burying your face in jj’s neck, you licked and nipped the sensitive flesh there before you felt a stream of wetness flow from between your thighs.

you gasped, both you and jj looking down at the mess you made. “oh my god,” your cheeks heated in embarrassment, “i’m so sorry i didn’t know i could i do that—” jj shushed you before you could get through apologizing all the way, “don’t say sorry. that’s the hottest thing i’ve ever seen.” he helped you up, taking a seat at the edge of the bed before pushing you back on your knees. “wait, what are you doing, jay?” you watched as he quickly undid his belt, a smirk playing on his lips as you looked up at him with those clueless eyes of yours.

“i’m gonna teach you how to suck me off.”

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

hiii omg I love your stuff!! my eyeballs popped out my head when I saw you're writing for bucky I'm sooo head over heels for him. he look so fine in the new thunderbolts run😩

could I maybe request a lil bucky sneaking into your room at night in between his missions or smth for a quickie? 🙈 even though he's busy more than half the time, he still finds a moment or two to spend a heated moment with you; bc he misses you so much and can barely keep his hands off

tysm in advance omg omg

hii angel!! aah thank you sm🫠 tehe I know!?? love it, thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

FIFTEEN MINUTES.

bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count. 1115

warnings. 18+ only !! tiny bit of prep (f receiving) unprotected pinv, creampie. mdni

Nights at the compound were far from quiet; the constant opening and closing of doors, scattered footsteps, echoed voices - everyone on different sleep schedules.

You were in your room settling down for the night, lying in bed and listening to music, scrolling through your phone when you hear the sound of scuffling from behind your door - the silhouette of booted feet appearing under the gap. 

Unplugging your earphones, you sit up, noticing the familiar leather from under the slither of light. You fling off your covers and rush for the door, face lighting up when you see who is on the other side. 

"Bucky?!" you blurt out, clearly happy to see him. "What are you doing back so soon?" you ask, tone elated. 

His smile widens, grinning boyishly at you. "Came back before heading out again," he shrugs casually, speaking as if it were all that easy. "...was missing you," he admits, eyes diverting away bashfully. 

Your head tilts to the side, nose scrunching from his sweet confession. "I missed you," you widen your door, silently inviting him inside. "Only a little bit," you add, expression mirroring his.

Bucky steps into your room and shuts the door behind himself, closing the distance between you with a brisk step forward - leaning in to kiss you, soft and sweet. His hands settle on your waist, fingers sliding under the fabric of your t-shirt to feel your skin - flesh warm and comforting against his.

You rest your hands over the sides of his face, palms cupping his cheeks as the kiss grows more desperate. Carnal. "How long til you leave?" you ask, voice muffled against his lips, your words sounding needy. 

"Fifteen minutes." 

He walks you backwards, heading for your bed, his hands eagerly roaming you as he lays you against the edge of the mattress, slotting his lower half between your spread legs. He hovers above you, his cock growing hard and strained behind his pants, bulge nudging up into that warm spot between your thighs. 

"We can make that work," you reply, a slight whine to your tone.

He hums, far too entranced by how you feel against him to respond coherently. The rush of blood swelling to his cock, leaving his brain. Bucky peels from your grasp and stands between your spread legs, looking down at the lewd image of you - lips bruised and plumped, eyes half-lidded, t-shirt exposing the underneath of your pretty tits. 

He loved how you usually looked, but this was just on another level - you obscenely desperate for him and him only. Your eager eyes following his every move, looking over him like you couldn't get enough.

Your gaze hones in on his hands, watching him undo the button of his pants, his fingers slipping down the front, pulling his hardened dick from behind the waistband. You follow suit, urgently pulling down your pyjama bottoms and flinging them aside - leaving you in only an oversized tee, lying near naked under his fully clothed self.

His left metal hand takes hold of his cock, leisurely rolling it in his palm as his other reaches between your thighs - fleshed middle finger sliding up and down the slit of your pussy. Fingerpad circling over your clit ever so deliciously, mindlessly rubbing the sensitive nub.

"We don't have long, James," you say softly, hand reaching for his wrist, fingers wrapping around his meaty lower arm.

He slips off his jacket, revealing a black compression top underneath. He stands between your legs, blissfully unaware of how good he looks right now - tight, short-sleeved top, black combat pants pooling around his thighs, pretty dick exposed and on display. 

"Wish we had longer," he murmurs, itching himself closer.

"You're back in two days, right?" you say, instinctively adjusting your hips - widening your thighs to accustom his frame.

He pushes his head through the slick of your cunt, coating the tip in a soft, creaming sheen. He hums in response, his thumb resting atop his cock as he guides himself into you, easing through your fluttering walls. 

He leans over you once more, weight anchored on his hands either side of your head, dick sinking into you so nicely - just you taking him so well.

You reach up to cup his cheeks, holding his face in your hands as you maintain his gaze, your features growing pliant under his attention - eyes softening, brows knitting, expression mirroring his. You meet in the middle, lips clashing eagerly. 

"Can't you pretend to be sick?" you murmur against his mouth, speaking desperately.

He slowly begins to wind his hips into you, cock consuming you from the inside out. "I can try to get out of it," he replies, his voice hoarse and strained from the way you wrap yourself around him.

"Please do," you whisper, latching your lips back onto his - kissing him hard, moans muffling.

"Why?" he whispers back, a soft smile lining his lips. "Do you miss me?"

"No." 

"No?" 

You faintly shake your head, eyes playful and unconvincing. "No." 

He plays along. "Neither do I."

Bucky continues like that, fucking into you, his leisured pace growing rushed by the second, winding into you more ruthlessly than he would've liked. Usually, he would take the time to work you up - make love to you, kiss and touch and caress you, but with the minutes growing shorter and shorter, less and less, he had to switch it up. 

It doesn't take long for you both to cum, your climax hitting you hard; his cock almost choking you, repeatedly knocking the air out of your lungs. His release follows mere moments later, spilling his warm, thick load - sloppily pumping it into you. 

His forehead rests against yours, both of your breathing erratic, slowly beginning to even out. "Sorry, my love. I got to go," he whispers apologeticly, pressing a kiss to your hairline. 

Sweetly nodding as you push his stray hairs back, looking at him with a knowing expression he's grown familiar with. 

He kisses you once more and peels himself from you, standing back between your thighs - dressing back up. He looks down at you, eyes raking over you as if to savour the image, memorising you before he goes. 

Adjusting your t-shirt, you follow after him, the patter of your bare feet trailing after him like a shadow. He reaches for the handle and turns back to face you, his soft, gentle eyes filled with warmth. 

"I'll call you when I land," he smiles, speaking like he's reading your mind. 

"Be careful, yeah?" you reach up, meeting his initiation for kiss.

"I always am."

[konpeitonom]

hii can u do mw characters hallucinating their dead partner??:3thx btw love ur posts

tulpar crew hallucinating their dead partners.

sfw— lowercase intended ^_^

g/n reader (i think) — content warning for self harm/substance abuse.. so sorry!!

requests are open and heavily encouraged, i write for every mw character ^.^

notes; i was super excited to do this request! finally got around to doing it. sorry if this a wee bit inaccurate, i’ve never had severe hallucinations like what im portraying here but i tried my best anyway. take this as a happy 100+ follower celebration! never written for all the cast before so this was really fun. i don’t rlly like this haha but hopefully u guys do

curly

— i’d break him. and i think he wouldn’t be able to work properly as captain if they were frequent. and he’d feel a lot of guilt about that. everyone’s counting on him, he can’t be so hung up on the past.

— would confide in jimmy about it, and jimmy would make some comment about he’s not fit to work if he’s seeing hallucinations of his dead partner- maybe even shame him a little..

— i’d freak him out every time i’d happen. he’d have to leave the room if someone else was there, to go cry somewhere private.

— he already has issues sleeping, but i’d make it much worst. which would only make the hallucinations worst. he can never catch a break..

— he knows he’d never get over your passing, especially if it was tragic/something he could’ve prevented- but he didn’t think he’d go crazy like this.

jimmy

— he would be pissed, seriously. he’d go mad. he’d resort to drinking or self harm if it was possible.

— i only say self harm as a.. he’d stand right in front of you, cut himself and say stuff like.. “you wanted this, right? is that why you’re here? came back to fucking haunt me?”

— he’s completely scummy, and would start blaming you. his view of you would be completely tainted. but then would start feeling upset about how he’s ruined even the image of you.

— to ground himself, he’d just look at old pictures- maybe look at your old clothes if he got the chance. he doesn’t wanna ruin you, but he does. even in death, you can’t run from him.

— all around a mess. haha. he’s confused, maybe a little scared- but still selfish old jimmy..

— i mean, death is regular. it happens. people he’s known, been close to, have died. but for him to be seeing you? and so vividly too? that’s not normal, not at all.

anya

— anya would find a lot of comfort in it. she knows it isn’t healthy, but she can’t help but maybe enjoy it a little. it’s nice to know you’re always there, even if it’s just her mind playing tricks on her.

— i think the first time it happened, she’s very quick to pull herself together. and then she’s very self aware of what’s happening.

— i think she’d feel a lot of guilt.. you’ve passed, and you should rest easy- and here she is still clinging onto the past. you’d be upset if you saw her like this, which is the only reason she’d try to push it away.

— still though.. she can’t help it. you look so real, and who’s it hurting? it’s not hurting her, that’s for sure. it makes her happy.

— would do anything to feel your presence once more, maybe staring at your photo as she cuddles with a pillow.. purposely not sleeping, so the chances of her hallucinating you are higher..

swansea

— like jimmy, he’d go crazy. mentally, he’s struggled before, but not to the extent where he’s seeing vivid images of you. i’d scare the shit out of him.

— would.. likely delve back into alcoholism. what’s the point of being sober if his spouse isn't alive? not like they’ll know anyway. he’d feel maybe a bit of guilt but not enough to stop.

— he would not be able to work properly. maybe only with daisuke, as he knows he can’t break down infront of some kid. he’s old enough to know how to hold himself together.

— maybe similar to anya, there’s slight feelings of comfort. but he can’t do that to you, so he tries his best to move the fuck on over it.

daisuke

— he’d be scared, severely. as the youngest of the crew, he’s constantly hearing things about how life is only gonna get worse as you grow older.. and he thinks, ‘there’s things worse than hallucinating my dead partner in store for me?’

— would try to push through it. put on a happy face in front of his co-workers and parents, as you sit there in the back of his mind.

— he wouldn’t know what to do. he doesn’t wanna bother anyone, doesn’t wanna be a burden. he wants people to look at him and think highly of him, not pity him.

— spends a lot of his free time just.. laying in bed. distracting himself with his hobbies and interests no longer works as he can’t bring himself to care.

— he’d draw often, i think. mostly you. only because he knows how upset you’d be if you found out he’d given up drawing.

[puck-luck]

I would like to make a request 🗣️🗣️ luke and a meet cute at a club or party and luke takes her back to his place 🕶️

thank you for your consideration

warnings: use of Y/N, consumption of alcohol, dancing without leaving room for jesus, public sex, rough!luke, oral sex m!receiving (facefucking), praise, dirty talk, consumption of cum, hair pulling, probably missed some stuff but. oh well.

pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

wc: 3,717

“Y/N, he’s been looking over here all night. If you don’t go up to him, I will,” your friend threatens. 

You know who she’s talking about– the tall brunet with the curls near the dartboard in the quiet corner of the bar. He’s been with his group of friends the whole night, nursing beer bottle after beer bottle, and you keep making eye contact with him. You’ve actually turned from him so that you can focus on your friends, determined to not make the first move on this guy.

However, the jig is up. Your friends are tired of waiting. They want to see something happen.

“Look, he’s going to the bar now,” another friend says. “Go get a new drink and talk to him!”

They urge you to finish your current drink quickly and shoo you along, physically pushing you from the group towards the bar.

“Alright, alright, fine,” you concede, leaving your empty glass on the table and walking towards the bar. You make your way to the bar, sidling up next to the man. He seems taller when you stand next to him, so you throw a look over your shoulder towards your friends, mouth gaping and eyebrows curved to convey how impressed you are. You tap your fingers on the bar while you wait for the bartender, bouncing on your tiptoes slightly. 

The bartender goes to the man first, who asks for a Bud bottle. It’s easy enough, so the bartender points to you. 

“A vodka soda with a lime, please!” You lean forward over the bar and raise your voice so the bartender can hear you over the chatter in the bar. Another easy order. You never really know what to order at bars, despite being over the legal drinking age for a little while now. 

You and the man next to you wait in silence as the bartender makes your drinks– or grabs the beer bottle, in the case of your neighbor. He promptly hands over his card, which the bartender sticks into the side of his hat so that he can use both of his hands to make your drink. 

Your eyes go wide– your purse is at the table with your friends. You could just use ApplePay, but you really don’t want to hand your entire phone to the bartender to pay. “Oh, shit,” you mumble to yourself, looking over at the table where your friends sit. You can see your purse from here, like there’s a spotlight on it.

The bartender places a new glass in front of you and waits.

“I– my wallet is in my purse, I need to go grab it,” you say, pointing over towards the table. “I’m so sorry, I’ll be right back–”

“You can put it on mine,” the man next to you interrupts, talking directly to the bartender. “I’ll pay.”

The bartender nods and types around on the computer for a minute, while you turn to the guy next to you– your savior. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but you really do appreciate the small act of kindness.

“Thank you so much,” you tell the man, looking up at him and smiling softly. “I can Venmo you, if you want?”

He chuckles. “Nah, that’s okay,” he says. He sticks a hand out for you to shake, which is comical in a setting like this. You take his hand anyway, feeling his fingers curl around your palm. “I’m Luke.”

“Y/N. You’re sure I can’t pay you back?” you ask, shaking his hand.

Luke turns back to the bar, taking his card from the bartender and signing the receipt. You take your drink, waiting for him to say something else. He looks at you when he’s done and shakes his head. “I’m sure.”

Ugh– you can feel your chance slipping away. You’ve never been the bravest when it comes to making a move, but you know your friends won’t take pleasure in this story if you return now. They’ll just send you back over to Luke. “How about a dance?”

Luke’s eyebrows quirk. “A dance?”

“To pay you back. We dance for a song, we go our separate ways, and all is fair,” you say. It’s a silly proposal, but you’re hoping it works. Even if it doesn’t, you can tell your friends that you asked him to dance and he declined. You reach for your drink and sip from the straw, pinching the plastic to keep it in place. You look up at Luke through your eyelashes, blinking innocently.

Luke seems to consider the invitation, taking a swig from his beer bottle and sliding his card back into his wallet, before sliding his wallet back into his pocket. He licks his bottom lip and his eyes flicker over the top half of your figure. “Sure,” Luke decides after a minute. “Let’s dance.”

You smile. “Okay,” you say sweetly. “Let me go put my drink on my table. Wait right here.” You touch his arm lightly, lingering for a moment. “I’ll be right back.”

You head back to your table, depositing your drink on the table and telling your friends that you’ll be dancing with Luke if they need you. They cheer and gas you up, making you swear that you’ll tell them everything. They promise to watch your stuff and, should you want to go home with Luke, they’ll call an Uber for you. 

Your friends don’t do that kind of stuff normally, so you’re starting to wonder… do they think you’ve been in a dry spell? Or are they just really excited about the prospect of you hooking up with Luke?

Luke’s face transforms when he smirks, watching you make your way back over to him. He laughs when you pop your hips a bit with each step, introducing the dance before you even make your way to the middle of the bar. Once you’re in range, Luke slides his big hand over your hip possessively and a thrill passes through you. It’s the simplest of touches. 

You lead him to the dance floor, twining your fingers between the lengthy digits of his free hand. You twirl under his arm before plastering your back to his front and, well, getting down to business. 

The music is upbeat, but you can’t place your finger on the genre. You like this bar because dancing isn’t a huge part of the vibe. There are still a number of couples out on the dance floor, plus a few groups of friends. It’s not crowded, but there’s no way that your friends are able to watch and analyze each move that you make. 

It might be disco, actually. Some sort of weird EDM-disco-reggae-poppy-retro song that you’ll never remember the name of, but you’ll remember the feeling you had while it played. You’ll remember the feeling of Luke’s body behind yours, so present that you have to close your eyes and memorize it. 

The movements are easy enough, although Luke is letting you lead the dance. His hips sway with yours, hands on your waist. You can feel his breath on your neck and your cheekbone and you lean into the touch, laying the back of your head against his shoulder. One of your hands comes up to find his neck, curling around the back of it and playing with his curls. You know he can see down the front of your going-out top like this, cleavage on full display, and that’s just how you want it. 

His movements grow more sure over the duration of the song. By the end of it, Luke’s hips are pressed securely against your backside and his hands are keeping you in place. At the end of the first song, you wait for Luke to step away, but he doesn’t. You just keep dancing– through a second, a third, and a fourth song.

Halfway through the fourth, Luke starts to kiss over your neck. It’s exactly what you’ve been waiting for. You hum and press into his touch, baring your neck for him and sighing. The fourth song ends and fades into a fifth. Luke keeps kissing. You keep rolling your hips. Luke pulls you back when you get too far away. You curl your fingers into his hair when his mouth parts from your pulsepoint for too long.

You turn into Luke’s body finally, unable to play this game for a moment more. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling yourself into his orbit until your hips are flush and your tits are pressed against his front. 

There’s a lull momentarily, just a flash of hesitation in Luke’s eyes, but it’s gone in a second. That look is replaced with a dark, affected flicker deep in Luke’s pupils. He leans down, you tilt your head up, and you’re kissing each other frantically, bodies still moving in time with the beat of the sixth song. 

Your hands tug on Luke’s hair and one of his rises up the line of your back to tangle in yours. The other hand slides lower and you, for one, are very happy that Luke has such a big wingspan. You saw it when he reached a hand out to throw a dart and again when he was celebrating with his friend, another brunet in a backwards hat. His hand goes all the way to your behind and squeezes, which has you swooning.

You’re sure that you look sloppy and desperate on the dance floor, but with the way Luke’s dick is straining against his pants and pressing against your hip, you can’t be bothered to care. Luke’s mouth is insistent against yours and you feel positively feral.

It’s warm in the club all of a sudden. You feel like you’re sweating and you want to get out of these clothes– and you want to get Luke out of his. 

Luke kisses you until you’re gasping for air and you have to break away. Even then, he starts to kiss down your neck again, which has you arching into his touch. 

“Go home with me?” Luke asks between the open-mouthed marks he leaves on your neck. 

And you will, but you also don’t want to sit through a car ride. Your apartment is about twenty minutes from here and you don’t know how far Luke’s is… hell, he could live above the bar for all you care, and that would be too far.

“Too far,” you reply before tracing a line over the strong column of his throat. “I want you now.”

Luke chuckles, amused by your chagrin. “We can’t just–”

“Come on.” You take Luke’s hand and drag him towards the bathrooms. There’s a single stall employee bathroom that you know the code for– only because one of your friends used to date one of the bartenders at this bar. He gave her the code and she’d shared it with your group of friends, then you’d continued using it after they’d broken up. Part of that is revenge for the bartender turning out to be evil, as ex-boyfriends often are, but the other part is that you prefer having a bathroom that is constantly stocked with toilet paper, soap, and paper towels. 

In this case… you prefer having a bathroom that is locked and very private.

You punch in the code, waiting for the keypad to light up green, and let yourself in. You pull Luke into the room behind you, leaning back against the door as it swings shut. 

Luke crowds into your space, cupping your cheeks and pushing your hair back until it’s a tangled mess. All the while, he’s mouthing against your lips. You take his enthusiasm as a sign that he’s on board with your idea– that you can hook up right here and there’s no need to wait. The doorknob is digging into your side, but you don’t mind all that much. 

He’s so strong. You can feel it in the way his fingertips dig into your sides and how his body covers yours. 

You both move with ferver, hands roaming and touching every inch that you can. Luke tastes like the beer he was drinking and smells of faint cologne. His tongue licks at your mouth like a flame and the sounds of your lips meeting and retracting fills your ears. You can hear how he’s starting to pant into your mouth, and one of his hands comes up to squeeze your boob. You return the favor, fitting your hand around his length over the front of his pants. He moans into your mouth and you swoon, knees buckling slightly.

They buckle until you find your way to the ground. “Can I?” you ask, petting over the tent in front of your face. You look up at Luke, leaning forward to smooth an inviting kiss to his bulge. 

“Fuck, yes,” Luke replies. One of his hands stays flat against the back of the door, while the other gathers your hair at the back of your head.

You let a smirk crawl over your face, maintaining eye contact with Luke and hoping that it looks sexy. Then, you’re quick to unbutton his pants and pull the zipper down, working to free Luke’s cock. You can practically feel your mouth watering, filling with spit and craving his taste. 

When you pull his pants and boxers down, Luke’s cock springs free and bounces back towards his stomach. He’s got a big cock, lengthier than you’ve seen in any of your previous hookups. He’s girthy, too, and you’re happy to see that he’s circumcised. Not that you’d complain if he wasn’t, but… whatever. It’s not important. What’s important is that he’s right here and your mouth isn’t around him yet.

You dive in, tongue first. At the first union of Luke’s precum with your tastebuds, you moan and allow your eyelids to flutter shut. You bob your head, taking inch after inch of Luke until there’s hardly any space remaining– at least, you hope not. He’s big and you’d like to look accomplished, able to deepthroat him. It’s a pride thing. After pushing your head down just the tiniest bit further, just enough so you gag around his tip and your mouth constricts around his cock, you pull back.

You pump his cock while you breathe, shaking away the lightheadedness that came with his girth filling your windpipe and cutting off your airway. You lick from his base to his tip with the flat of your tongue, gazing up at Luke with wide eyes to catch his reaction.

He’s breathing hard, his stomach tensing and hand twitching against the back of the door, like he wants to grab something. “That’s so good,” Luke gasps out, his other hand tightening in your hair. He stares down at you, pupils dark and all-consuming. 

You open your mouth and slide his length over your tongue, taking him deep.

“So good,” Luke repeats. His hips push forward, encouraging you to do more.

So that’s how it’s going to be, you think. Well, you certainly don’t mind if Luke wants to take control.

You bring your hand to the back of your head, covering his fingers. Luke stares at you, but he doesn’t move. If his cock wasn’t in your mouth, tip poking at the back of your throat, you’d giggle at the dumbfounded look on his face. Instead, you just push your head forward with that hand over Luke’s, then pull back, and then push forward again. You drop Luke’s hand and thumb over his thigh, tracing the light hair that adorns it.

“You– do you want me to fuck your mouth?” Luke asks, stammering over the first word. His cheeks flush as he questions you. You can’t tell if it’s from being turned on or if it’s because he’s embarrassed that he even has to ask.

You nod, eyes half-hooded and bottom teeth accidentally scraping against the underside of his cock. You drop your mouth open wider, and your jaw is starting to ache, but what does it matter? Luke’s grip has grown even tighter on your hair.

“Are you sure?” he checks again, although his hips are already starting to work back, giving him room to push forward when you confirm.

You nod again, flexing your tongue against the vein that pulses along his shaft. 

“Fuck, that’s hot. Okay, um, if it’s too much,” Luke says, scrambling a bit. “Just, uh, hit me. Hit my thigh if it’s too much and you need a break, okay?”

You let a breath of laughter leave your nose and you pat his thigh firmly to show that you understand. You bring that hand around the back of his thigh and encourage him forward, eyes never breaking from his.

Luke starts slow at first, using his grip on your hair to drag you closer to his base and then back to his tip. He sees how much you can take and how far he can go before his tip falls off of your tongue and leaves your mouth completely. He directs your head like a marionette on a string, recapturing his cock and filling your mouth with it. 

You pinch his thigh and whine, the sound muffled around Luke’s length, but he gets the message. 

“Okay, fuck,” Luke curses. He starts to pull your hair harder, then push down on your scalp itself more harshly. “Letting me fuck your mouth in the bar bathroom, that’s so dirty, Y/N.”

You moan at that, eyes rolling back.

“Oh, you like being dirty, huh?” Luke asks. “You like it when I talk to you? Or do you just like the idea of me ruining you?”

That. You moan again, the vibration from the noise reverberating around his length. 

Luke gains more confidence, bringing his hand down from the door and rearranging your hair into a ponytail of sorts. Both hands are on the sides of your head, holding your skull like they would hold your hips if he was fucking into you from behind. 

“So good at gagging on my cock, babe,” Luke continues. His eyes are flashing with ideas, a new light glinting through them. His hips are moving steadily, methoidcally. Forward, backward, forward, backward. His tip nudges the back of your throat with each thrust. You do actually gag when his cockhead drags over your uvula, but it makes Luke moan and increase his pace.

You like watching him come closer and closer to the edge, using your mouth. You claw at his thighs, trying to keep him as close as you can. You continue to moan, choke, and splutter around his cock, making as much noise as you can. Luke is returning the favor, groaning and grunting and heaving out harsh breaths while his pace grows more and more frenzied.

“Never even met me before, but here you are, on your knees in a bar bathroom,” Luke grits out, a twisted smirk on his face. “So willing to be used.”

Yes. You can feel a trail of drool carve a path down your chin. Luke fucks it out of you. His balls knock against your chin as he starts to lose control of himself, thrusting into your mouth as far as the hole will allow. 

“You’re gonna swallow my cum,” Luke says lowly, his jaw clenched. He holds your head down, your jaw unhinged and deepthroating his cock. “Then I’m going to take you home and finish the job.”

You nod as best you can with his hands still holding your head in place.

Luke nods in return, then the pads of his thumbs dig into the thin skin of your temple and he snaps his hips forward.

His thrusts are precise and rough, which has you gagging like you’ll reject his cock, but you won’t. You want his cum. You want it in your mouth, sliding down your throat, and settling in your stomach. Your next moan is more of a gurgle around Luke’s shaft, tongue pressing into his skin.

“Good girl, I’m close,” Luke says. “Keep your mouth open for me.”

You can’t open your mouth any more than you already have, but you try your best. Your eyes sting a bit as Luke continues to abuse your throat, but you keep your watery gaze locked on him. 

Luke groans and shudders, taking one of his hands from your head and returning it to the door. He forms a fist this time, knocking his forearm against the door and then leaning his head against it. He braces himself, staring down at you with his lips parted, clearly affected and transfixed by the look on your face. 

His entire body rolls forward when his cum bursts from his slit and shoots down your throat. Luke moans loud, the sound seeming to echo off the walls of the spacious room. 

His hips stop moving, but you bob your head for an extra minute, making slurping noises around his cock and swallowing as best you can. Some of his cum joins the drool leaking from your mouth when Luke pulls away, unable to take any further stimulation. 

You swallow a final time, your throat aching with a sharp pain from overuse. You wipe under your bottom lip with the pads of your first three fingers, then lick the remaining fluids from them. 

“Shit…” Luke drawls, his chest rising and falling with ample effort. His eyes look far away, although they’re fixed on the way your mouth circles your fingers. “Baby, I gotta get you home.”

“Oh, yeah?” You tease, your voice rough. Your words even break a bit, catching on the dry surface of your tongue. “Are you going to let me sit on your face and ruin you?”

Luke’s eyes widen and his pupils dilate, his tongue licking over his bottom lip. He reaches for your elbow and helps you stand, capturing your mouth in a long kiss. “Among other things,” he breathes out when you part. “Yeah, let’s get your cum on my chin too. You can see how good it looks.”

“My friends said they’d pay for the Uber,” you tell him, patting his chest. You reach for his underpants, then his jeans, and make sure they’re snug, zipped, and buttoned around his hips. You kiss him softly. “Let’s go get my purse.”

notes: been in a Lu mood lately :) not much writing has come from it, but i have been in a Lu mood.

[upat4amwiththemoon]

Hey I’m sorry to bother, but can you do a Tony x teen reader? Platonic or familial obviously, but like where the reader isn’t smart academically and she’s constantly doing bad on tests and Tony comforting her? It’s fine if not thank you for your time either way :)

Academic validation

Summary: Tests aren’t the only thing that determine children’s intelligence.

Pairing: Tony Stark x teen!reader, Avengers x teen!reader

Warnings: I have no understanding of American education system

Word count: 870

a/n: I need that academic validation

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore

masterlists | guidelines

The huge encircled D on Y/N’s physics exam is the only thing on her mind as she walks towards the Avenger’s tower.

There’s a permanent frown on her face. She really studied for this test, she even got Tony to quiz her, but clearly that didn’t help. He’s going to be so disappointed in her.

Y/N walks into the tower, giving the security guard in the lobby a small wave before going into the elevator. She holds onto her backpack’s straps tightly as she waits for the elevator to stop on the common floor. She hopes Tony won’t be in there.

The elevator doors opens and Y/N gets out of it. Her steps are slow and quiet, she doesn’t want to announce her arrival to anyone. A shaky sigh leaves her mouth when she hears people talking in the common room.

She tries to walk past everyone, quickly but quietly, but it’s not very easy to sneak past Avengers. “Hey, kid!” Sam exclaims, waving her over to the small group hanging out on the couches.

Y/N lets out a breath, putting on a smile as she makes her way over to them. “Hi, guys.” Her eyes move over everyone. No Tony, that makes her relax just a bit. “What are you doing?”

Natasha’s arm is is laying on the couch’s back rest, her fingers gently rubbing Wanda’s shoulder, as she gives Y/N a cheeky look. “Wanda got offended when Sam said Fuller House is better than Full House, so she is making us watch Full House.”

Wanda pushes Natasha’s side, glaring at her before turning to Y/N. “No one in their right mind thinks a sequel of an iconic show is better than the show itself.” At the end of the sentence, she glares at Sam too, who raises his hands in mock surrender.

“Okay.” Y/N giggles with a shake of her head. At times she thinks of herself more mature than the adults.

“Want to join us, honey?”

“Uh,” she bites her lip, “no, I can’t sorry.” She has decided to beg her teacher for a retake of the test to get a more respectable grade to show Tony.

“Okay, but don’t think you’re getting away from watching Full House with me.” Wanda grins.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Y/N waves at the trio and makes her way to her room.

In her room, she takes out the physics exam and looks it through over and over again, until she has fully memorized which parts she did wrong. It takes two hours. Two hours, which Y/N didn’t notice going by.

A knock on her door makes her jump. Her wide eyes glance at the clock, grumbling when she notices it’s over dinner time.

“It’s open!”

Tony walks inside the room, a small grin on his face and a plate of food on his hand. “I know everyone says we’re too alike, but please don’t take up on my habit of missing meals.” He sets the plate down on her desk. “It’s a bad habit, kiddo.”

“I won’t.” Y/N lets out an airy laugh, setting the test paper on the desk and pulling the plate in front of her.

“That your physics test?” Tony grabs the sheet of paper before Y/N is able to hide it.

“No!”

“What?” Tony glances at her with a frown. His eyes skim over both sides of the paper.

Y/N bites the inside of her cheek, her gaze going straight to the floor as she feels disappointment seeping into her body. “I did badly.” She mumbles, waiting for Tony’s criticism.

“So?” Tony sets the test back down. “Do you know how bad I did in school? I’m still absolutely brilliant.” He sits on her bed.

“Yeah.. but you’re great at physics, and math, and all that important stuff.”

“Sure.” Tony nods. “But this is only one test,” he taps the paper, “and you’re so great at so many things. You get As on history and English, you have a great eye for design, you have impeccable people skills, even though you hate most of them.” He laughs. “One physics exam doesn’t mean shit.”

Y/N looks at Tony, a small frown on her face. “But I want to be like you.”

“Kiddo, no one is going to be like me, not should they try to be like me.” Tony pats Y/N’s knee. “Is physics your passion?”

“I don’t know what my passion is.”

“Well, when you find your passion, I will be the one to hire you to work in a job that you love. Because no child living under my roof will work a day in their life in a job they despise. Yes, I will always encourage you to do your best at tests, but I’ll be proud of you no matter how well or bad you do in them.”

Sniffling, Y/N lunges to hug Tony. He embraces her right back, holding onto her tightly as long as she needs to be held, because even though he doesn’t love physical touch, he refuses to be the first one to pull away when a kid he considers his needs comfort.

[cythena]

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ CLOSER

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ " i just can't leave you alone "

synopsis . . . choso is so infatuated with the shy girl from his forensics class. his hobbies outside of school make it so easy to get to know more about her but he just wants to get closer to her.

warnings . . . college au, ghostface!choso, reader is very sick in the head, dubcon, dark content, reader has longish hair but the texture can be in whatever way you want, breeding, slapping, hair pulling, bdsm (not with reader), choking, breaking n entering, stalking, porn, choso is a huge creep, voyeurism

notes . . . 2.7k words, 10 minute read, a little longer than usual. this is not not sum light but iykyk. so proceed with caution if you're concerned.

his eyes are attached to every movement you make. it could be anything. you clicked your pen, your head slightly tilting to the left, your sigh after glancing at the clock. he noticed it all. he loved it. it was the way he passed his time at 10 in the morning. unfortunately, this was the only avaliable time for this class but fortunately for choso, it was the same time you picked.

you were a dream; pouty lips and doe eyes fit your soft face. then he could drag his eyes down to your chest, admire your waist, and fantasize about your hips. he had an hour of time with you, albeit a table away from you, but still. for an hour, he memorized every feature he could to save later for his sketchbook.

he would arrive early just to see you walk in, and sometimes you would walk past his seat. on those days, he would catch a whiff of your delicate perfume. it was sweet vanilla, soft. you'd think it would fit you. you looked very sweet, with your hair styled with bows and a large collection of skirts. your voice rose in pitch whenever your existence was acknowledged by others.

but choso's seen you. he's really seen you — in such a raw state that no one had the faintest clue about it. you're very forgetful, leaving your curtains open like you wanted him to watch. you were such a tease. your room was true to your aesthetic. he watched you open up your sanrio decorated laptop and settle into your lush bed. from his angle, he could see the screen with you.

you leaned against your pillows as your fingertips moved naturally to a website. the sight excited him to the core and he started spinning his various rings around his fingers. he wasn't dumb, he knew you would get lonely. but he wasn't sure what site you were on. nevertheless, he was so interested in what softcore video caught your eye. you weren't into the dirty stuff. you liked it clean, amateur for sure.

to his surprise, your video was nothing of the sort. a masked man pulled on the bare girl's chain. her skin was red and dripping. a grin spread across her lips as the huge man slapped his cock on her face. your hand was already between your legs. your pajama top had the first few buttons popped open while your other hand palmed your tit.

choso's cock hardened at the view. your lips parted as you played with yourself. he was eager to join you, but he stopped himself — forced himself to burn the moment into his memory. the priceless sight needed to stay with him forever.

the woman and the video was tossed onto the bed. the camera propped in front of her face but a majority of the man was visible. his upper body towered over her as a large hand left bright marks onto her ass. her face contorted in pleasure. choso wondered how your face really looked now. he wanted to hear your sounds.

your thighs clenched together around your hand. your shoulders caved in and your entire body shook. choso's breath quickened. the man in the video wrapped his hand around her neck. he yanked her against his chest while keeping her pinned by the waist.

you quickly pressed a hand over your mouth while your eyes shut. chills racked through choso's spine. he wasn't sure he blinked until you were settled in your bed again and your laptop was shut. his hand clutched the neck of his shirt, now feeling warmer than before.

he took a moment to gather himself. his legs felt like jelly. he sank down to the grass outside your window but stared at your windowsill. the small window of light shining on the grass suddenly snapped off. you finally shut the curtains and he knew it was time to go. standing up, he felt an odd warm feeling in his pants.

looking down, he could barely see the faint glistening on his dark pants.

"fuck..."

that was months ago. over time, he's felt closer to you. you've shared so many intimate moments together, unknowingly. in his mind, you've consummated your love on numerous occasions. but it still wasn't enough. he wanted to really touch you.

he wanted to kiss you and caress your hips. in the same thought, he imagined his knuckles rubbing against your scalp as he pulled your hair back. he knew you would love that. your dirty searches told him many secrets. they helped him collect so much information about you.

there were a few attributes those videos shared. they were nasty, dirty, spit and cum covered those girls entirely. those girls were treated like a personal pets to serve those men. but the one that was in every single video, no matter the genre...those men were always masked.

even the nights you decided to take a softer route, the man's identity was unknown. it seemed you had a strong taste for the mystery. he's never seen you take a second glance at any video with a man's face.

he was so proud to know this about you. he watched you walk past him every day and all he could think about was how you would feel if he was the man and you were his to use. you'd be a toy he could never get tired of. he's felt a cord attach the two of you ever since. it was made of the secrets you shared.

the videos started getting more intense, more bloody and brutal, and your orgasms became harsher. this video had the man forcing himself into the unsuspecting girl's room. the man covered her mouth to stop what choso assumed were her loud moans.

choso watched your heaving chest. you're such a sick freak, he thought but he wondered...if watching it made you cum so hard, then would experiencing it be even better? an unknown and unexpected man having his way with you. he cock ached with the desire to climb through your window and test your theory.

you were much earlier today, choso had barely arrived and settled in to wait for you when you walked in. he was sliding his rings on his fingers again when he heard your footsteps. you looked so adorable. you wore a white tank top with a cute bow decorating your cleavage and a brown skirt. you were so effortlessly pretty in his eyes.

your perfume was different today too. you must've run out of your vanilla pearl. he loved the scent so much he went a bought a bottle to remind him of you. he'd spray it on his shirts every night. this new scent was fresh, floral. it was so light and refreshing. the charming mixture of flowers was irresistible. it lingered around him.

"excuse me, choso, would it be alright if i moved to sit with you? i'm sorry, i just wanted to see better."

you nervously tugged on the strap of your bag. your index and thumb toyed with the cat pin on it. the smile forced itself onto his face. he hoped it wasn't scaring you. there was no stopping the joy of hearing you say his name.

"yeah, that's alright." he even pulled the chair out for you to sit with him. the table had enough space for the both of you yet he scooted it a little closer to his side.

minutes of silence passed. choso had decided to entertain himself with your his sketchbook. it was his but the only thing he could bring himself to draw was you. it didn't look like that at first glance but it was you. he could draw you from his pure memory. there was you sleeping, playing in makeup, changing. one of you sitting in class caught your eye. you admired the faceless drawing.

"you're really good."

choso stopped, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. he even tried to cover some of the drawing with his palm. he could see part of your smile from the corner of his eye.

"thank you...do you wanna see more?" he offered, feeling his nerves tingling.

now you scooted closer to him. your shoulder pressed against his now. he slid the sketchbook over to the middle of you. his mind wandered and he could no longer completely focus on giving you a tour of his drawings — not when your tits were so close to him. he could ever see a little of your bra peeking out in a gap.

your nail ended up pointing to the one of you changing shirts. it was the one time you faced the window. he remembered you didn't even bother to put on a shirt again that night.

"this is the same girl, isn't it? why don't you draw her face?" you asked.

"she's too pretty, i'd never be able to do her justice."

your eyes widened, for a second you wished he was saying it about you. still, it was romantic. oh. it also meant choso had a girlfriend.

"she must be beautiful then."

you were so clueless to his affections if one could even call them that. you stared at him with what looked like stars in your eyes. he couldn't bring himself to look any further. instead, he pulled the sketchbook closer to himself and smiled at your portraits.

"incredibly."

every time choso set up outside of your bedroom window was more exhilarating than the last. it was his favorite part of the evening. it was your time together. tonight he would be doing you a favor. he felt significantly better about it knowing you'd appreciate it. he knew you better than anyone and tonight he'd proof it.

he wanted to get to you before you were ready for bed. you were in the shower for twenty minutes so when you grabbed your towel and left the room, he pushed open the window. he was careful not to dirty your clean floor as he tiptoed towards your door. he stood and waited for the water to stop running.

choso's heart raced, blood and adrenaline pumping a thousand times faster. his fingers twitched at the touch of sinking into your flesh, especially the clean skin after your shower. he ran his fingers over the textured metal and pressed against them. he was finally going to make you his even if you didn't know it was him.

time couldn't have gone by any faster. the water shut off and within minutes your footsteps came padding down the hall. he adjusted his mask in your mirror, the white ghost mask identical to the man's in the videos.

the door opened and his hand smacked over your mouth. he shoved your back to his chest and pinned you against him. he held you close, inhaling this new strawberry scent of your soap. his hand caressed the side of your hip.

"calm down," his chilling voice demanded. your breathing slowed and he relaxed as well. you stared at your reflection. this form towered over you. the towel you clutched to your chest began slipping out of your grasp.

choso steadily removed his hand from your mouth, ready to clasp it again if needed. "good girl, you can be a good girl for me. yeah, get on the bed." he patted your side and let you walk towards your bed. he stalked behind you. you turned around to face him with teary eyes. he tucked your chin between his thumb and index.

he moved your hands away from the towel and let it pool around your hips now. your soft breast filled his palm nicely. he felt like such a virgin looking at your body. it's like even when he's so close you can't help but be a little tease.

"spread, now."

you were so obedient. you followed every command like a well trained puppy. he kneeled between your spread legs, shifting the towel completely off of your thighs. your body was everything he ever dreamed of and more. he wanted a taste but this stupid mask was in his way.

he hovered over you, trapping you between him and the wall. you slapped your hand over your mouth when he snatched your neck. the mesh couldn't hide the beautiful panic on your face. your breathing quickened. he forced you to look into the droopy eyes of the mask while he unzipped his pants.

what he really wanted to do was kiss you. then, he wanted to hear his name. next time.

he didn't give you a warning when he shoved two fingers into your cunt. you squealed against your own palm — the most heavenly noise he's ever heard and it was his doing. you were at his mercy. the cold metal sent chills through your walls. he twisted and curled his fingers inside of you, pulling you closer to your finish.

he squeezed your neck enough to make your eyes cross and you go dizzy. a smile planted on your lips behind your hand. your walls contracted around his fingers and stayed tight.

he admired the strings of slick between his fingers. he needed it. he was so desperate to taste you. so he slipped his fingers underneath his mask and into his mouth where he sucked every last intoxicating drop. it seemed everything about you was sweet except that fucked up head of yours.

he yanked your legs around his waist, lining your hole up perfectly with his hard cock. the tip swept against your clit. your sensitive body reacted to every touch. he wanted you to beg for him to do something. he didn't care what it was just, beg.

he planted his hands on your waist. you clawed at his forearms while writhing. "please," you whimpered. "please, sir, i wanna feel you."

"my dirty girl." taking your breath away, he buried himself into your hole. you were so full of him it felt impossible. he gathered your wrists in one hand while slamming his cock into you.

drool dripped out the corner of your mouth stuffed with choso's thumb. you loved grabbing onto nothing and digging your nails into your own palm. you sank your teeth into your quivering bottom lip. choso laid a slap on your cheek and you moaned.

"oh! please! f-feels so good!" you gasped. moans continued to interrupt any word you could think to say. you just gave up trying to speak. he kept reminding himself that next time you'll be crying his name.

the need to feel you tighten around his cock powered him. he frantically drove himself into your hole working towards that blissful release for both of you.

he forced you further into the mattress by the neck. it was like his strength tripled when with you. it was like he was fucking a message into you. a message he wouldn't leave until he knew it was engraved in your mind.

"you're all fucking mine. all mine. say it."

"aha! yes!" you grinned. "i'm all yours!"

he dropped your bruised hands and you gripped his shoulders. your eyes crossed and rolled back into your head. your body convulsed as you tried to steady yourself with his shoulders. you felt your legs go weak and slip from his waist.

he flipped you over to your knees, his thick hands grabbed onto your waist while pushing you into the bed. it was pure instinct at this point. he brought his hand deep into the strands of your hair. using this, he made you squeal when he yanked your head back. tears fell from your doe eyes.

every signal in body told him he needed to fill you and he wasn't going to stop until he did. he let out a heavy growl with his head throw back as his cum spilled into you. he stayed inside you, forcing his seed to stay inside you.

"thank you," you breathed. choso rubbed your bruised hips and other darker spots littered across your body. he inhaled your scent again before pushing himself off of you. he watched you roll onto your side and close your eyes.

the next school day, you took your seat next to choso. you bounced into class with a bright smile. today your perfume was new. it was a sweet strawberry scent that filled his nose. he is cheeks heated up, remembering your smell that night.

"good morning choso," you smiled as you began unpacking your bag.

"good morning y/n."

choso shut his sketchbook and spread his palm over it. something you dropped clattered on the desk. looking back down, he saw one of his rings spinning around. he swept it up and slid it back on his finger.

"i knew it looked familiar but i think there was one more. could you come get it tonight?"

of course you knew. you shared every sick fantasy with him. "i'll be there tonight."

— © cythena 2024. do not share on tiktok, plagiarize, repost on other platforms, copy, or translate.

[entitled-fangirl]

Are you scared of me, Princess?

Jasper Hale x human!reader

Summary: The reader sees the scars on Jasper's arms, prompting him to tell her the truth.

Words: 1,646

Warnings: talk of murder, vampire stuff idk, scars, cursing

Author's note: God this is angsty. Someone get 8th-grade me in here right now because this is what she thought she was reading at her age.

Masterlist &lt;3

.......................................................

Jasper sat in the bed placed in his room, his mate resting her back against his chest. His arms were wrapped around her waist and his face found its way into her hair. Her hands were placed on top of his on her waist, relishing in the feeling of comfort he gave her.

They were a strange pair, the two. The bloodthirsty vampire fighting his instincts to feed and the helpless human girl who wouldn’t be able to fight him if she tried. 

But she trusted him with her whole heart. It had been hard at first. She had to marinate in the knowledge of the existence of vampires, and he suffered the constant smell of her sweet scent, calling out to him every second.

It was so hard for him, even on a good day. Her smell of her blood always drew him in. 

The only thing holding him back from draining her was the feeling he knew he wouldn’t fight the minute her body became lifeless: dread.

But now, they laid in each other’s arms in complete trust. 

Her hand wandered up his forearm, stopping at the unevenness of his skin. She looked down, pulling his sleeve up briefly.

Bite marks and scratches laid all up and down his forearm. She didn’t want to know how far up his arm it went, thankful for the sleeve.

She felt him shift. He felt uncomfortable. Scared of her reaction. But above all else, he cared for her. She could practically feel his gift poking at her emotions, intertwining them with his. A sense of calmness fell over the two of them before words could form.

Her hand still laid against his arm gently, her thumb brushing one of the bites to comfort him in her own way.

She felt his head move away from hers, leaning back against the bed frame. She used this opportunity to turn in his grip, now facing him. Once there, she pulled his arm into her lap, her eyes inspecting the scars in front of her. 

He simply watched. He couldn’t hide them, and he would never lie. Not to her. So, he simply sat there to let her ask him or draw her own conclusions.

She finally looked up, her eyes locking on his. She’s thankful of his gift, because otherwise, she may have been teary-eyed. “T….Tell me, Jasper?”

His eyes softened. God, she was so good to him. So perfect. So innocent and pure. Everything he knew he wasn’t.

Her blood would be so easy to take. The feeling of adrenaline would be worth the-

“It’s… a long story, Princess. I don’t think you wanna hear it.”

She was visibly hurt by his answer, her hand retreating from his. “Oh. I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry… I just… just thought…”

He chuckles to himself, teasing her, “Thought what, Princess? You really wanna know?”

She nods, her eyes glossy, holding an unreadable expression.

He sighs. He wanted to hold off from telling her this. That was his plan. But now, she had ruined the perfect plan in his head. Not that he could be mad at her. His heart couldn’t do that.

He pulls his sleeve up his other arm, showing her the scarring. “D’you know much about the Civil War, Darlin’?”

She nods, her eyes never leaving his forearm. 

He smiles, “Good girl. Knew you would.” He took a deep breath, not that he needed to, but it allowed him to collect himself and decide what to say. “I was turned during the Civil War. A woman named Maria convinced me to help her train a vampire army. I was foolish and naive. I thought she was doing the right thing.”

He looked up at her to gauge her reaction. She simply stared at the scars, her head low in thought. He took this as a sign to continue.

“You know.. I was, uh, a major, in the war?”

Her head perked up at that, her eyes meeting his. “A..a major?”

He smirked, “Yeah. Major Jasper Whitlock.” As he said so, she felt a wave of pride come from his body. She didn’t need Jasper’s gifts to sense it, for it had come so plain. 

He continued, “I trained them myself. Her army, I mean. I know you don’t know much about us, but newborn vampires are more dangerous. More deadly. They’re stronger than most.” As he said this, she could feel his tone becoming sharper. 

“Stronger than Emmett?”

He nods, “Yes, Princess. Much stronger. You stay away from a newborn.” It had meant to be advice, but it came out a demand. “They’re more deadly than you can imagine. I’ve watched them do…” his eyes look off in thought, “…unspeakable things…”

A small silence overtakes them before she breaks it. “And you trained them?”

His eyes quickly move back to hers, the amber color glowing, “Yes, ma’am.”

“How?”

“Not easily. They don’t take too well, as you can see,” he said, his head motioning forward at his arms. “I punished them, too. Killed them when they got out of hand or weren’t what we needed.”

He feared to look up at her, but he couldn’t resist. Her gaze was on the window. He didn’t often wish for a gift different than his, but at this moment, he wished he could read her mind. See what was going on in that lovely little human brain of hers. But he couldn’t. He sensed she wasn’t distressed. He had to see her eyes to be sure. Not for his gift’s sake, but for his own. His hand outstretched to grab her jaw gently, pulling it towards his own. “Are you scared of me?”

Her eyes catch his, their faces a foot apart. “…Sh…should I be, Jasper?”

He considers her question quickly with a nod, his voice low. “Really fucking scared.”

She blinks at his wording, her brain struggling to comprehend everything in front of her. 

He wanted to joke, take the dark mood away, but he knew this was serious. “I killed before this,” he gestured to himself, “I killed during this…. I’ll probably have to kill sometime after this. I’ve murdered many with no remorse, their bodies laying at my feet. Innocent lives and murders, too. I overpowered the strongest vampires with ease, ending them mercilessly. My heart holds no mercy. So, I’ll ask again. Are you scared of me?”

She wasn’t sure what to think. She couldn’t put it into words. Was she scared? She supposed so. Any sane person would be. But she trusted him. She trusted him. She trusted him. “You… You won’t hurt me, Jasper.”

He wanted to laugh at her sweet response. How naive of his little lamb. She said it so sure of herself. Of him. She didn’t know of the constant, deep thirst of blood he fought back every time their eyes met. She didn’t know of the pain he felt when she parted from him. She didn’t know of the horrors he had endured. And most importantly, she would never understand the terrors he had caused.

“You don’t know that, Princess.”

She took a quick breath in at his response. Every reasonable thought she ever had was gone. She should run. She should hide. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t. Her body remained here, on the vampire’s bed, his hand gripping her jaw while staring at her like she was prey. Every reasonable thought was gone.

She reached her hand up to place on top of his on her jaw, flinching at the cold feeling of his skin on hers. “You won’t, Jasper.” She began to even sound confident.

He smiled at her, his sharp teeth peeking out. This girl believes in him that much. What a stupid girl. Too trusting. Too hopeful. Too pretty. Too good. Too perfect. He could absolutely ruin her. But he wouldn’t. “C’mon, Princess. Admit you’re a little afraid.” He needed to hear her say it.

Her hand gripped his, pushing it down her jaw lightly until it rested over her throat. His hand now wrapped around her neck, her hand lightly resting on his. 

He was speechless at her touches. Her movements. Her willingness. Her loyalty to him. His eyes stare at his own hand, admiring the view in front of him. Her hopeful eyes staring into his while his hand rested above her only source of oxygen. It was intimate. It was scary. It was perfect. She was perfect. 

His thumb brushed her throat lightly, feeling her heartbeat quicken at his touch. He could practically feel the blood running through her veins. And she trusted him still. 

They sat there in silence for a while, simply admiring the other. 

She was perfect. Too innocent for her own good, but so loyal and willing for him. Her pretty face was the perfect view for him. He could stare at it until the end of his days. And she trusted him with her life. 

She trusted him with the one thing his body thirst to destroy. And he loved her all the more for it.

He was strong. Resilient. An open book for her to read at her leisure. Protective was a word she was familiar with. She felt like his arms were the only thing she needed to live in the world. She trusted him with her life.

His other arm moved up her body, his hand getting lost in the hair on the back of her head. He pushes her forward, capturing her lips in his. 

The hand on her neck stayed. But it never twitched. 

They pulled away from each other to let her catch her breath. Their faces were close as they tried to think of the right words to say.

“You’re not afraid of me.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. She wasn’t afraid of him. 

................................................................

[guiltyasdave]

every breath you take

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: Dave is investigating a case, but ends up being much more interested in the target's girlfriend.

word count: 1.7k

tags/warnings: dark content!!! stalker!dave, non-consensual voyerism, more things that i don't want to spoil, but if you don't like dark stuff you won't like this okay?, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, divorced dave, allusions to smut, angst

a/n: ...i was in the mood to try my hand at a dark dave, so i did :) written for @punkshort's au challenge, where i got detective!dave, which i took and ran with lmao

so much love to @sizzlingcloudmentality who has received a thousand voice notes over this, kept me from killing everyone, and gave me the idea for the final twist <3

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers by @saradika-graphics 🤍

It had started the first time Dave heard your voice, ringing through his headphones as he was sitting at his desk, taking notes on last nights’ recordings. He had just taken on the case, a promise of quiet observational work, gathering evidence. The only requirement to stay invisible. Easy enough.

Your name had popped up in the case file. Romantic partner. Female. Involvement unclear. A note in the back of his head, filed away. That was before he knew you. 

Before he sat at his desk, headphones on, not breathing for what felt like hours. Before he unfroze, straightening his back, digging through the file for a photograph of you. Staring at the blurry pixels, at the sweet smile directed at your boyfriend. 

His line of work had long lost the excitement it gave him when he first started, the buzz that he had once felt when after months of investigation, a case was solved. But this. This was new, this was fun. 

He found himself listening so much more intently when you were present, waiting for your name being mentioned when you weren’t. 

There hasn’t been much fun in his life since the divorce. Not seeing the girls nearly as much as he would like to. Coming home to an empty house in the evening, no traces left of the family life that he always prided himself with. One could say that he’s lonely, he guesses.

It’s late in the evening, his car parked in front of the unassuming suburban house, perfect with a white picket fence, the porch surrounded by carefully maintained flowers. Your work, as he knows by now. It’s so easy, imagining you in his house, so similar to the one you’re living in now.

He should be paying close attention to your boyfriend, should monitor his every step, should take notes, photos if necessary. Instead, his eyes are glued to you. 

Watching you move from the living room to the kitchen, picturing you in the same rooms in his house instead. Reaching up to a cupboard, crouching down in front of the oven, moving around the counters. He grits his teeth when your boyfriend comes up behind you, crowds you in, his hands all over your body. Lips against your neck. You leaning into the touch, a soft smile on your lips. That should be him. 

Maybe, if he tries hard enough, later tonight he’ll look at his own kitchen counter and see you there. Maybe he’ll be able to pretend, even for a moment, that your sweet, sweet smile is directed at him. That your voice rings out with the sound of his name instead of the douchebag that calls himself your boyfriend. 

You deserve so much better. Someone to take care of you, to keep you safe. To love you the way you should be loved. You deserve someone like him and he doesn’t understand how you don’t see that. How you don’t look out the window, spot him across the street, and just know. The way he did. 

Of course things didn’t work out with Carol. How could they, when you were waiting for him? 

But you don’t look out the window. You turn around, a laugh on your lips. Silent, from his vantage point outside of your house, your life. But he knows the sound, knows how beautiful it sounds, how it always brings a smile to his own face. He has listened to it over and over, after all. Maybe, one day he’ll be able to experience both at once, to see your face scrunch up, crinkles forming around your eyes and your nose, while his ears pick up on the pearly sound that he’s gotten addicted to. It’s almost embarrassing, how much longer it takes him to listen to tapes when you’re on them. How often he rewinds, how meticulously he commits every single sound that you let out to memory.

It isn’t lost on him that you love your boyfriend. He’s not delusional, after all. You just don’t know how much better you could have it. It’s not your fault, of course. He understands, he wants to help you, wants to make you see. 

You don’t know who the man you live with really is, he doesn’t think. You don’t know about the blood-stained money that bought the house you live in, don’t question when he comes home late at night, when he leaves the room to make a call. 

Dave would never treat you like this. He’d be so, so good to you. Because he knows you, better than that guy ever will, and he hasn’t even met you. Yet. 

It almost seems too easy. He has dirt, more than enough of it, to send your boyfriend to jail for a long, long time. He could finish up the case. But he likes to keep watching. At least until he knows what to do with you. 

It’s late one evening, the golden light from your living room spilling out across the lawn. Dave’s back is stiff from folding his body into the car seat all day, but it’s a price he’s willing to pay. Just a glimpse of you would be enough. Right now, all he can see is the back of your boyfriend’s head behind an armchair.

As if his thoughts had summoned you, you glide into the room, just as gorgeous as always. Wearing nothing but lacy black underwear, a coy smile on your face, directed at the man that Dave has come to hate. The man who doesn’t deserve your smile, doesn’t deserve to lay eyes on you, let alone touch you. The hands roaming over your skin, pulling you closer until it’s body against body— they should be Dave’s. 

The shutter clicks quietly. No one but him will see these photos, they won’t be submitted to the case file. But he already knows that he’ll be looking at them over and over, pouring over them in the darkness of his home, until every inch, every crevice of your body is seared into his memories. 

You giggle, muted by the distance and the windows separating him from you, but he still hears the sound in his ear as if he was standing right next to you. He knows you. Fingers intertwined, you pull your boyfriend with you, up the stairs and out of view. It stings. He’d be lying to say that it didn’t. But not much longer now. He just needs a plan. 

He has already cleared any evidence that even hints at you possessing any knowledge of the criminal activities surrounding the man that you’re with right now. You won’t go down with him, you’re safe. Of course you are. Dave will always protect what’s his. You’ll see.

Later, when all the lights in your house are turned off and he has returned to his own home, his thoughts race with the image of you. All that skin on display, the smiles and giggles, the teasing. Maybe you do know. Maybe it’s a game that you’re both playing, maybe you wanted him to see. 

He lets the hot spray of the shower rain down his back, the heat slowly easing the hardened muscles in his back. Still, all he sees is you. He doesn’t even need to close his eyes. In his mind, you’re right there with him. It’s his body that you’re pressed against, his fingers digging into your flesh. He almost tastes your soft breaths, feels all the mewling sounds that he could pull from you against his lips. He could give you everything you want, could make you feel better than anyone else ever has. You’re meant for him. 

He’d turn you around, press you against the hard wall, one hand on your shoulder, pulling you back against his body as he fills you up. You’d be so tight, so warm and wet around him. He’d drive into you, again and again, over and over, until the only thing you know is his name. Until he’s everything you’ll ever need.

It happens one week later. You were supposed to be asleep. They were going to intercept your boyfriend before he could enter the house. Dave doesn’t know what went wrong, why the team fucked up like this. 

He runs inside when he hears you scream, standing in the kitchen. Your eyes wide, shining with the image of your boyfriend’s blood slowly spreading across the white tiles. With a wild expression on your face, you make a grab for the knife block. 

It all goes by incredibly fast. In the blink of an eye, Dave’s world comes crashing down around him. One of the men lunges at you, attempting to tackle you to the ground. Your head connects with the kitchen counter in a sickening crunch. A second later, your limp body hits the ground. 

It’s agony, waiting for you to wake up. He lets people think that he’s just invested in his case, that he feels guilty about how things went down. No one interferes when he handles the hospital proceedings, knowing better than to question him. Or when he doesn’t let anyone else near you. Or when he barely leaves your side, staring at your unconscious face, your hand weak in his. 

He listens attentively to the doctors, his brows knitted deeply, his lips pursed in worry. No part of it is fake. If his eyes widen at the words memory loss, the only plausible reason is his deep concern for you.

When your eyelids flutter open, when your gaze finds him for the very first time, his heart is racing in his chest. He squeezes your hand, resists the urge to smooth out the crease on your forehead. 

“Thank god you’re awake,” he breathes, not able to stop a smile from growing on his face.

You exhale sharply, pure confusion painting your features. So helpless without him. 

“W— who are you?” 

“I’m Dave, baby. Your fiancé, remember?”

A slow shake of your head, your brows pulling together. Quietly echoing his name back to him, more like a question.

Until the only thing you know is his name. Until he’s everything you’ll ever need.

thank you for reading, aaaahhhhh! i have never written anything really dark before and i'm a little nervous tbh, so please let me know if you liked this <3

[authortelevision]

george, the hockey player: chapter one ₊˚⊹♡

words: 2,747 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆ george clarke slow burn, university au, hockey george

you start university in bristol as a film student and meet a hockey player who will change your life completely

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The train ride to Bristol had been a mix of nervous excitement and mild existential dread. The city, with its hilly streets and graffiti-covered underpasses, felt like a place where something big could happen. But right now, all that mattered was getting through move-in day without looking like a complete disaster.

You haul your suitcase up the stairs of your new flat, already regretting bringing so many decorations. The shared kitchen is a mess of half-opened suitcases, stacked IKEA crockery, and the awkward small talk of strangers who will, apparently, be your new best friends.

A girl with pink-streaked hair and round glasses glances up from where she’s struggling to assemble a drying rack. “Oh, thank God. Someone else who looks just as lost as I feel.”

You laugh, setting your bags down. “Completely lost. Do you need help with that?”

“Please. It’s like IKEA’s playing a cruel joke on me.” She grins. “I’m Lily, by the way. I do history, unfortunately.”

You introduce yourself just as the front door swings open and two more people walk in, dragging boxes. One of them, a guy with messy brown hair, lets out an exaggerated sigh. “This is it. Our prison for the next year.”

“I hope not.” says a voice from behind him.

The four of you quickly exchange introductions, and you learn that the negative voice is Matt who is studying Economics, and the other is Sam, taking Biology. Within ten minutes, you’re all gathered in the kitchen, swapping stories about where you’re from and who packed the weirdest thing (Matt wins with his five-kilo bag of protein powder). It’s surprisingly easy, the awkwardness fading fast.

Then, Lily claps her hands together. “Okay, so Freshers’ Fair is happening today. We need to go.”

Sam frowns. “That’s the one where all the societies try to recruit you, right?”

“Exactly. It’s essential. Free stuff, maybe a few weird clubs, and we can all pretend we’re super well-rounded people.”

You weren’t sure if you had the energy after lugging all your stuff around, but the idea of seeing what Bristol Uni had to offer was tempting. Plus, it beat sitting in your empty room.

“Alright,” you say, standing up. “Let’s go get bombarded by enthusiastic second-years.”

————

The Student Union building is packed, a sea of students weaving between booths with banners ranging from “Join the Debate Society” to “Quidditch Team Tryouts This Weekend!” Every few steps, someone shoves a flyer into your hands, promising everything from cheap cocktails to life-changing friendships.

Lily gets dragged away almost immediately by a group advertising a Feminist Reading Club. Sam disappears in the direction of the Rugby stall, while Matt, despite his initial complaints, is deep in conversation with a Chess Society rep.

That leaves you wandering alone for a bit, taking it all in. The Hockey Society booth catches your eye, but only cause there’s a crowd gathered around it, and a bunch of sporty-looking guys are chatting with possible members. You consider stopping, but hockey isn’t really your thing.

Instead, you find yourself drawn to a quieter stall tucked between the Art Society and the Drama Club. A banner reads “Photography Society – Capture the Moment”, and a student with a camera slung around their neck waves at you.

“Hey! You interested in photography?”

“I mean… kinda?” You glance at the sign-up sheet. “I do film, so I guess I already mess around with cameras.”

The student grins. “That’s basically half of it. We do sports photography, exhibitions, and the occasional trip. No pressure, though.”

It sounds like exactly the kind of thing to make friends you need. Before you can overthink it, you pick up a pen and sign your name.

By the time you regroup with your flatmates, your bag is full of leaflets and your group decides to escape the chaos and grab something to eat. The campus cafés are packed, so you settle for the Student Union bar, where the tables are sticky, the nachos are cheap, and the music is just a little too loud for a casual conversation.

Matt dumps his bag of free society merch onto the table with a dramatic sigh. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got.”

He pulls out a ridiculous amount of random freebies like stress balls, lanyards, a frisbee, and even a reusable coffee cup with Bristol Uni Quidditch Team printed on the side. Sam snorts. “Did you even sign up for Quidditch?”

“No, but they were giving out free stuff, and I’m not an idiot.”

Lily rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. She turns to you, seeing your tote bag. “So, what made you go for Photography Society?”

You take a sip of your drink, considering. “I think I just wanted something creative that wasn’t coursework, you know? Something fun, no pressure.”

She nods. “Good call. I was considering the Creative Writing Society, but then I overheard a guy saying they only discuss ‘serious literary work,’ and I feel like I’d get kicked out for writing fanfiction.”

“That sounds insufferable,” you say with a laugh.

“What about you, Sam?” Matt asks. “You looked way too invested in that rugby stall for someone who claimed they definitely weren’t joining a sports team.

Sam shrugs, looking vaguely guilty. “Okay, maybe I’ll go to tryouts. I haven’t played since school, but it might be fun.”

“You just want an excuse to go to the sports socials,” Lily teases.

He smirks. “And what if I do?”

The conversation drifts into plans for the rest of Freshers’ Week—pub crawls, club nights, and the dreaded 9am introductory lectures no one is ready for. It’s strange how quickly everything is falling into place, like the awkwardness of earlier has already faded into something more natural.

Eventually, you all decide to head back to the flat, the evening air crisp as you make your way across campus. Bristol feels alive at night, students spilling out of bars, the hum of conversation echoing down cobbled streets. The streetlights cast long shadows, and for a brief moment, you pause to take it all in.

Lily nudges you. “You alright?”

You nod, smiling. “Yeah. I think I am.”

————

The next morning, you wake to the sound of footsteps in the hallway and the faint clatter of someone making something in the kitchen. For a few seconds, you forget where you are, then the unfamiliar ceiling and the plain white walls bring you back to reality. Your new life at university has officially begun.

After forcing yourself out of bed, you shuffle into the kitchen, where Lily is perched on the counter, eating a bowl of cereal. She’s wearing an oversized hoodie, her pink-streaked hair all over the place. “Morning,” she says between bites.

“Morning,” you mumble, grabbing a mug and searching for the kettle.

Matt wanders in next, still in his pajamas. He blinks at you both. “We should’ve made a pact never to speak before noon.”

Lily laughs. “Good luck with that. We’ve all got a welcome meeting at ten, I’m not sure where yours is but mine is in the Oliver building.”

Right. The dreaded introductory stuff. You groan internally but force yourself to stay optimistic. First years always say it’s useless, but there could always be something important about the university you wouldn’t know about.

After breakfast, you grab your bag and head out with Lily, who insists on walking with you even though the history department is in a completely different building. “Moral support,” she says dramatically as you weave through the crowds of students trying to find their way around.

The film department is tucked inside a modern glass building that looks sleek and intimidating. Inside, the lecture hall is already filling up, the hum of conversation blending with the sound of chairs scraping against the floor. You slide into a seat near the middle and pull out your laptop, trying not to look as awkward as you feel.

A few minutes later, a girl with short curly hair and a nose ring drops into the seat next to you. “Hey, do you mind if I sit here?”

“Not at all.”

“I’m Ava,” she says, setting her laptop down. “Film Studies?”

You nod. “Yeah, first year.”

“Same! What kind of films are you into?”

That kicks off an easy conversation, by the time the lecturer finally arrives and starts their speech about “the power of storytelling in visual media,” you and Ava have already bonded over your mutual love of indie films and your shared distaste for pretentious film bros who only talk about Pulp Fiction.

The lecture itself is mostly introductions—professors explaining what to expect, a few awkward icebreakers with the people sitting nearby, and a long-winded speech about academic integrity. By the time it’s over, your brain is buzzing, and you’re more than ready to escape.

“Wanna grab coffee?” Ava asks as you head out of the building.

“Definitely.”

The two of you make your way to the campus café, where you spot Sam and Matt sitting by the window, deep in conversation. When they see you, Sam waves you over.

“How was your lecture?” Matt asks as you slide into the seat across from him.

“Long.” You take a sip of your coffee. “What about you?”

“Boring. I already regret choosing Economics.”

Ava laughs. “Wow, you’re all so motivated.”

“Oh! This is Ava, by the way, we both do film studies.”

As the conversation continues, it starts to hit you, this is your new life. New friends, new routines, new experiences waiting just around the corner.

————

By the time the sun sets, the nerves of the first day have been replaced with something else entirely: anticipation, excitement, and the lingering feeling from the vodka shots you definitely shouldn’t have taken so quickly.

Your flat has changed into pre-drinks. The tiny kitchen table is covered in half-empty bottles, discarded mixers, and the remnants of an intense game of Ring of Fire. Someone’s put on a ridiculous throwback playlist, and now everyone is shouting the words to Mr. Brightside like it’s a national anthem.

You’re sat on the counter, legs swinging, cradling a drink you don’t need but don’t want to put down. “Okay,” you announce to no one in particular, “I think I might be a tiny bit drunk.”

Lily cackles from where she’s trying to apply eyeliner on a very uncooperative Matt. “No shit. You’ve been swaying for, like, ten minutes.”

You blink, realizing that the floor does seem to be moving slightly. “That’s just because I’m—” You wave your hand in the air, trying to find a reason. “—graceful.”

Sam laughs, throwing an arm around you dramatically. “You’re gone.”

But the night is young, and there’s only one destination in mind—Lola Lo’s. Everyone has been hyping it up since you arrived, promising neon lights, questionable cocktails, and the kind of night you’ll only half remember.

After one final shot (a terrible idea in hindsight), you all spill onto the street, voices loud and laughter echoing down the road. The walk to the club is only fifteen minutes, but your brain seems to have abandoned all sense of coordination.

Somewhere along the way, you trip over nothing and stumble into Lily. “Okay,” she says, catching you, “I think we need a pause.”

You find yourself plopping down onto the curb, the cold pavement grounding you slightly. Sam sits next to you, amused. “You know they’re not gonna let you in like this, right?”

You groan, resting your head on his shoulder dramatically. “I know.”

Matt crouches in front of you, squinting like a concerned doctor. “Alright, what’s the game plan? We can’t have you getting turned away at the door.”

Lily laughs. “We could walk in first and pretend we don’t know them.”

You gasp, offended. “Betrayal.”

Ava, who has been quiet up until now, holds up a bottle of water she somehow smuggled out of the flat. “Here, drink this. Try to look less… like this.” She gestures vaguely at you, which is fair.

You take a sip then make a face. “This isn’t gonna work in time.”

Matt nudges your shoulder. “Alright, let’s problem-solve. How do we make you look sober?”

“Serious face,” you declare, straightening up and attempting your most responsible expression. It lasts about three seconds before Sam bursts out laughing.

Lily wipes away fake tears. “Oh yeah, that’s gonna fool the bouncers.”

You groan, dramatically falling back onto the pavement. “Okay, new plan. I’ll just live here now. The curb is my home.”

Ava rolls her eyes but helps you up anyway. “Nope. We’re getting in that club. You’re gonna drink water, act normal, and stop being a liability.”

You let them half-drag, half-walk you down the street, still giggling. Maybe you won’t get into the club. Maybe you’ll wake up tomorrow with no recollection of this conversation.

Somehow—somehow—you make it past the bouncers.

Lily had given you a very serious pep talk before you reached the front of the queue: “No swaying. No giggling. And for God’s sake, don’t say anything stupid.” You had nodded along, doing your absolute best to channel the energy of someone who had only had one sensible drink and definitely wasn’t clinging to Sam for balance.

Miraculously, the bouncers barely look at you before waving you inside, and suddenly, you’re in.

Lola Lo’s is everything people hyped it up to be, neon lights glow under bamboo decor, the music vibrates in your chest, and the air smells like a mix of fruity cocktails, sweat, and regret. Your flatmates disappear into the crowd, leaving you standing in the middle of the dance floor, still slightly overwhelmed.

But there’s one thing you do know, you need another drink.

Stumbling your way to the bar, you lean against the counter, blinking up at the bartender like focusing really hard will make you seem more sober. “Can I get a—” You pause. What did you want? A cocktail? A vodka and coke? You squint at the menu, as if the words will rearrange themselves into the perfect choice.

Eventually, you just blurt out, “A rum and coke, please,” and slap some cash onto the bar, feeling very responsible.

The bartender hands you your drink, and you turn around. Too fast.

Because the next thing you know, your arm collides with someone, and suddenly, your entire very full drink sloshes forward, spilling straight onto them.

“Oh shit—”

The guy flinches, looking down at his now-soaked shirt. “Oh, for fu—” He cuts himself off, exhaling sharply before looking up at you.

And that’s when you see him properly.

Tall, messy brown hair, sharp features softened by the kind of face that probably gets away with way too much just by smiling. But right now, he’s not smiling, he’s staring at you, stunned, as cold rum and coke drips down his front.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, hands flying to your mouth. “I am so sorry.”

“It’s fine—”

“No, no, it’s not fine!” You grab a handful of napkins from the bar and start patting at his chest, which is definitely not helping, because now you’re basically rubbing the mess into his already ruined shirt. “I didn’t mean to—oh my God, I’m such an idiot—”

He lets out a breathy laugh, finally grabbing your wrist gently to stop your attempts at fixing the situation. “Hey—hey, it’s fine. Seriously.”

You look up at him, wide-eyed, and suddenly, your brain catches up with what’s happening. You just spilled an entire drink on a very attractive guy and are now borderline manhandling him in a drunken panic.

This is not how the night was supposed to go.

“I’ll buy you a new drink,” you blurt out.

He smirks. “What, for me or for you?”

You open your mouth, then shut it. That was a fair question.

Before you can respond, Lily appears out of nowhere, looking between the two of you with sharp amusement. “What the hell did I miss?”

The guy chuckles, shaking his head. “Your friend just redecorated my shirt.”

Lily glances at you, then at the napkins still clutched in your hand. Then she grins. “Oh, this is fantastic.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Kill me now.”

But when you peek up, the guy is still looking at you, not annoyed, not pissed off, but amused. Like this is the most entertaining thing that’s happened to him all night.

“I’m George” he says, still smiling.

George. You’ll keep that in mind.

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author notes:

hello everyone !! sorry i’ve been gone for so long !! i’ve been very busy with uni life and have kind of abandoned this account !! but i’m back and i’ve decided to bring my uni life into this new slow burn i have !!

I KNOW THAT GEORGE DIDNT GO TO BRISTOL BUT I DIDNT KNOW ENOUGH ABOUT HIS UNI TO WRITE ABOUT THAT ONE !!

much love x

[takes1]

oh my lord i love your writing it literally has me geeked every time. any possibility you write more for my man asahi? i’ll take anything you have to offer but i can’t stop thinking about something similar in premise to the wrestling where, instead, it’s 7 minutes in heaven? possible details about the closet they’re in being too small for him, perhaps~ because what asahi fan doesn’t appreciate some size difference goodness

asahi azumane x reader w/ size kink

i literally said, out loud, "ohhh!!!" and started writing it as soon as i saw this ask - you have a gift for ideas my love. thank you for sending this in!!!

warnings. heavy nsfw. minors DNI

details. fem!reader / 7 min. in heaven / heavy size kink / heavy claustrophilia / soft top!asahi / mutual?crushing / manhandling / thigh riding / making out / hickeys and marking / semi PDA / rough but sweet!asahi / 2.3k words / oh lord another maybe? two parter

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. my imagines. my request box

"Well, it's not a closet per se," Suga cocked his head at the half-done, dusty, crawl space the group chose for this game, "But it'll do, right?"

Asahi glanced down at you and didn't stop. You were taken by a big wave of chills, crossed your arms, looked away, then back up-- and he was still looking down at you. Any hope of subtlety was over.

He nodded, despite being the most effected by the size problem of this unfortunate reality.

"Well, there's nothing in it."

A fair point. The other closets were filled with closet-like things. Towels, cleaning supplies, pantry items, tools. The group, consisting of mixed-up members of Karasuno volleyball teams, had a fun treasure hunt with that stuff, but this was what you were after. A closet to play your thirsty game in.

'Unfortunate' was just one mode of perception. Less room meant more contact, but nobody was saying that aloud.

"Can you even fit in here, dude?" Nishinoya clambered out with relative ease, albeit sideways.

Every girl except you looked away as Asahi tried, embarrassed at the way the boards creaked, how he wouldn't be able to enter normally because his shoulders were too wide for the space. He had to bend at the waist because he was far too tall. You scanned the empty space in front of him, warm and tingly.

There was some room! You could fit there and you would, maybe, die trying.

Ever since Daichi retired to his room for the night, nobody had taken up the burdensome mantle of responsibility. His dad-like severity had a strong influence on the types of activities that were 'allowed' to happen.

7 Minutes in Heaven would have never been brought up with him present.

As long as the Karasuno teams were quiet enough to not wake him, you could carry on.

It's not that a game of spin the bottle, or some truth or dare, was necessarily scandalous, but it was enough to get everybody giggling and generate the who-has-a-crush-on-who type of conversations. Since everybody left downstairs were the interested ones that hadn't gone to bed already, it left this smaller, more intimate group to carry out some otherwise repressed desires.

You weren't the first to go in, but it was clear that the first pairing didn't do anything. That was fine and all, and a good reminder that you didn't have to kiss, if you didn't want to.

When Asahi was asked who he wanted to spend the time with, he returned your previous admission from a different game.

"I mean- why would I not say (Y/n)?"

He looked from Suga, who had taken the mantle of 'fun-mom' in all of this, being the bottle-spinner and card-holder and question-maker, back to you.

You realized the time he took to look at his friend was probably the only instance in the past 30 minutes that his eyes hadn't been locked onto you, ever since you admitted your little crush for him.

Getting in was about as easy as you imagined.

It had you both packed so tight that you had maybe an inch to move, at best. It forced you to put your hands on each other, just to stay oriented in the pitch black, and not trip.

"G-od," He sighed, and you earned a centimeter of space for two seconds. Then he had to take another breath and you were immobilized again, "We gotta- gotta adjust, or somethi-ng."

A strained, "Y-eah," was all you could get out. This was not a space meant to fit two people.

"I think, if... I..."

In the darkness, all you could see was some vague shadows move as he stretched down. His palms swallowed up your sides, and you desperately tried to keep your excitement down when you felt for his shoulders. He curled you up and threaded a strong, wide thigh between yours.

Most of it was genuine adjustment, but that didn't mean that it felt any less erotic. Just having to wrap your arms around his body and pull, so that you could sit higher up on his leg, was making your heart race.

"That feel better?"

His grumbly tone forced your thighs to tighten, the way you sat becoming more arched.

You could only give him a whisper, voice strained, because of how nervous you felt, "Yes."

Asahi chuckled right away, his breath ghosting right past your temple.

It was impossible to tell if he was bent to purposefully be close, or if there was no space to straighten more. You assumed the most polite option.

"You, uh- you... comfortable?" He muttered, more against you instead of anywhere else he could've possibly spoken, "Comfortable enough- I guess?"

You laughed, "Sure, yeah."

His thumb started rubbing against your side as he laughed with you. You could feel yourself getting wet, and tried to suppress any automatic squirming.

"You're- a... a nice seat--," Your face scrunched, your innocent words unsuccessful at trying to make things silly, and easy.

"Oh?" He chuckled at you.

"I- didn't--," You looked up in the dark, but couldn't see anything, and tried to pray away your embarrassment, "I did not mean it like that."

His grin spread, and you could feel his stubble really clearly against your forehead.

A tiny kiss to your hairline made your fingers grip his t-shirt, your spine straighten, your poor heart work even harder.

"It's okay if you did," The smile in his voice was so sweet.

Kissing him was shockingly simple. You felt like you had lots to say, things to explain, but they were so unimportant when his lips were soft and reading you like an open book.

The only crucial detail needed, for the moment, in this closet, was that you were super into him, and he was at least entertaining it.

For minutes, he couldn't decide where, how, he wanted to hold you. His arms would trade off between pulling you against his front in a hug, so he could feel more of your body on his.

Or, he would take more of a direct route of using his hands to pull you in for kisses, by the back of the neck, with his other palm keeping you pressed hard against his thigh.

The switch would happen any time you weren't heavy enough on his leg, or when your back wasn't arched enough to stay smushed against his chest.

"M-mh-," He was rolling your hips for you, weighing you down more on his thigh, flexing it just so.

You squirmed, having to part, at his lewd sounds.

He searched for you, huffing, in the dark, "Does that feel good?"

The tone he used with you was genuine, despite how dirty the phrase felt. For a moment, he stopped rubbing you against him.

You swallowed the mixture of spit in your mouth and tried to wipe the drool off of your lips, trembling, "Y-eah, it-- it's--,"

When your hand dipped to fix the seam of your shorts, you accidentally grabbed something warm, and stiff, and just off of where he had you grinding.

"Oh-! Sorry," You retracted your hand, face radiating heat, "I'm sorry."

His chest swelled in a restrained gasp through his nose. His voice was higher, and different as he reassured you it was completely fine.

"Was- that--? Mmh--," Before you could finish your tentative question, he wrapped one arm around you, palming half ass, half hip, while the other yanked you against his torso. It seemed he had realized a good middle ground between his holds.

Another partial moan at how he was able to pull you further up -so that you were trapping his cock between your bodies- got cut off by another clumsy kiss.

He bit you, at your bottom lip, and it throbbed for the rest of the time you kissed him. It made you shove a hand down the back of his shirt, give him an otherwise embarrassing sound, that he ate right up.

What you could feel of his print throbbed against you. A weakness radiated down through your fingers and toes as you scratched lines into his bare skin. It didn't do shit. It was like he didn't even feel it.

Actually, you wanted that shirt off.

It took just three seconds of pitiful tugging for him to let off, pull it over his head with one hand, and swing it to the dusty floor. Forgotten.

He was rough when he put his hands back on you, when you returned it, tugging, wanting to be closer however possible.

"Fuck-!" You sighed, breathing hard, fast, at his busy sucking down your neck.

His nails dug into your skin, his breathing characterized by needy groans that sounded a lot like he in the middle of a workout, if anything.

Since when did he like you back? Was it just because you were available? Would he have done this with any of the girls on your team? Not that it was much of a competition- none of them thought he looked 'civilized' enough to entertain him as an option.

Your legs were jelly, your thoughts heavy, but it didn't matter.

His shoulders would stretch further with every huff, expanding and resetting, and you couldn't stop yourself from scouring every inch while he was over you. It was getting hot in here. He was getting tacky, a little slippery in some areas.

He bit you too hard in a soft spot and you cried out, barely stuffing the sound into his bare shoulder. It was loud and you both knew it was audible through the other side of the door.

Asahi slowed, as gentle as he started, again, with an apologetic hum in the crook of your neck.

"Sorry," You could hear his smile, "Too much-"

He sighed and collected his nerves for a second as he readjusted his grip on you. More palm, less fingertips. It didn't sting as much and you missed it.

He said definitively, mostly to himself, "That was too much."

"I liked it!" You reassured him quietly, palm moving from his shoulder, to his neck, to the side of his face.

"I liked it. I liked it," Got repeated, in a tiny giggle, as he stilled.

You were delivering multiple little pecks across his face, craving his intensity as soon as you lost it. You tried holding him tighter, but it wasn't the same when he wasn't pushing and pulling.

That tingly sensation of his breathy laugh, his skilled tongue, was back on your neck, closer to your ear.

You melted at once with a whimper, the need to rock your own hips short-lived because he pushed his own against your heat.

"Ahh-!"

He grinned, sucking another bit of skin in an obvious spot, "Shhh."

The heartbeat between your legs was strong. He could feel it clearly against his thigh, wishing it was better placed and put to good use.

His fingertips were digging, pushing past the waistband of your shorts, further down, palm against your tummy. Maybe it was that feeling, maybe it was your enthusiasm, or maybe the fact that you were so wet he could feel that, too, but something possessed him to start getting greedy.

But he paid for it. While you were encouraging him, a hand around his thick forearm, guiding and pushing it down, a gasp already on your breath-- you were both completely blinded.

No courtesy knock. Just a bright light and a loud screech. Asahi retracted his curious hand in a flash, but there was not much else to do to make this look less provocative.

Though the sound was higher-pitched, it was not made from anyone on your team.

Nishinoya dropped to his knees, slack-jawed, and that's all you were able to register before the door slammed shut again.

Suga scolded him from the other side, others were shushing incessantly.

"You were supposed to knock, Noya!!"

"Now Daichi's gonna wake up! Nice going, dumbass!"

It gave you both enough time to try and separate. However, without opening the door, you couldn't get fully off of one another.

You were shaking, beyond nervous, and forcefully sobered. Not exactly happy.

"Um- that was great. Thank you," It was a short, and curt, way of telling him you didn't expect much after this. You had one hand on the door.

Asahi grabbed you by the waist and dragged you back. "C'mere--,"

His rough, messy, desperate last kiss was enough to leave you dizzy. He readjusted himself during it with one last rub.

"We're not done yet," He told you. Another hasty peck to the top of your head, and he was leagues lighter in tone, "Uh, sorry- As far as I'm concerned. Do what you want, though!"

He turned the knob for you and pushed it open a crack. You stumbled out, wiping your mouth.

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco @screamin-abt-haikyuu

potential for part two but i need to refrain from making promises. lmk if you're interested and i can make a taglist if i revisit!

my masterlist. more haikyuu. my imagines. requests open.