#and I will laugh at you as you beg God to take you because you 'followed hia teachings'. only for you to be denied the light of heaven

[poisonf0rest]

so beg for forgiveness

♱⋅── a/n: 2.4k of filth and Sylus being absolutely whipped for you, doing anything you ask just to earn your forgiveness.

He’s insufferable.

The way he mimics you—voice pitched high in a cruel, sing-song lilt—makes your blood boil.

"Sylus, Sylus," he taunts, leaning down to moan into the shell of your ear, "Please, Sylus, slow down. Too big, too much. Sylus."

You shove him hard, your frustration met only with his low, infuriating chuckle as you storm away.

But later, when Sylus coaxes you back into bed as if nothing happened, as if his little stunt is already forgotten—you remind yourself that you haven’t forgotten.

And you certainly won’t let him go unpunished.

Sylus always fucks you like he loves you. Like he’s obsessed with you. Every hulking inch of his six-foot-something body pressed down onto yours in devotion only the vulnerability of skin on skin could provide, each slow, languid thrust jostling your entire body, inching the two of you up the mattress until he drags you back down, leaving a kiss on your ankle as he does so. 

And god, he feels good. Always does. Hot and heavy, babbling praises and sweet promises into your neck as your nails dig bloody lines into every rigid plane of muscle across Sylus’s back. 

One of his hands cups the eternity of your lower back as he pulls your hips flush against his, the other gently tugging your chin up to his gaze, brows furrowed as his eyes dart between yours, clouded in confusion and concern.

Because despite his efforts, you haven't made a single sound for the past twenty minutes.

Good, he deserved to feel guilty. 

You huff, jerking your chin out from his palm as you swat his arm away. 

“You… Are you alright?” Sylus stops moving completely, cock throbbing against your walls, and the sudden lack of stimulation has you writhing. 

Before he can pull out entirely, you grab his shoulder leverage, shooting him one last glare before you begin fucking yourself up against him. 

The man is merely stunned into silence, unsure whether to stop or continue as you continue grinding your hips up, chasing your own pleasure as you use him as little more than a toy—refusing to let even a whimper past your teeth even as your thighs begin to shake.

Still chasing your own orgasm, you’re too busy to see the concern melt off Sylus’s face, quickly replaced with a wicked grin as he realizes what you’re playing at. 

Oh, so you’re still mad? Did he hit a nerve earlier? 

Sylus sighs, feigning disappointment as he watches you struggle to keep quiet, poor hands clawing and grappling against him as you struggle to take him on your own. Effort straining your muscles, his cock a tight fit without his help. What a fussy little kitten he has. 

Sitting back on his heels, you hiss in frustration as the new angle forces his cock to slip right out, smacking against his abs with a lewd sound as your combined slick drips down his heaving stomach. 

“Are you still upset about what I said earlier?” 

You huff, turning your head to the side as you prop yourself up on your elbows, about to climb onto Sylus’s lap to finish yourself off something stops you halfway. A hand pushes against your chest, forcing you back down onto the mattress with an angry groan, already missing the feeling of him filling you.

Struggling is pointless, Sylus’s entire weight trained on keeping you pinned beneath him, palm large enough to encircle your neck as it travels up, squeezing ever so lightly. 

“Not even going to respond?” You bare your teeth in a mock snarl and Sylus laughs, that annoyingly arrogant grin back on his face. ”Where did all your manners go? This kitten sure knows how to hold a grudge.”

You know he’s baiting you, trying to get a rise out of you, goading you into talking. And it nearly damn works, having to bite your tongue as you glare up at him with all the ferocity you can muster when he begins kissing around your knee and inner thigh, depriving you of his cock as he leans down onto his stomach. 

“Mhm, I’m sorry. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?” Sylus asks, sweeter than honey, words muffled into your inner thigh, each one coming out in between shaky breaths as he inhales deeply against the juncture of your thigh. “Please, let me hear you again.” Another kiss, ” Please let me hear your voice.”

He takes a moment to enjoy the view of you, spread open and desperate even as you stubbornly deny him his favorite thing in the world—your moans. He smiles, squeezing your hips and dragging you closer until your thighs are draped over his, knees bent. You shiver as his breath ghosts over your core, his thumbs pulling apart your lips.

The combined mess from earlier is still splattered across your skin, and Sylus wastes no time before dragging his tongue across it. He can’t help it, you taste so good. Sound even better, if only you’d stop this ridiculous game. 

Nipping and kissing into your thighs, Sylus never breaks eye contact as he works his way down to your poor fluttering pussy, blowing cool air just to watch you shiver. And when he suddenly latches his lips onto your clit, flicking his tongue up, you nearly forget about revenge. A moan rips from your throat, and only by slapping a palm over your mouth do you manage to muffle it, shaking into Sylus’s mouth as he growls between board strokes of his tongue. 

“Don’t. Do not hide them from me.”

Sylus’s hand immediately comes up, forcing your palm off your mouth. Still eating you out, his hand encircles both your wrists for good measure, pinning them to the mattress.

Sylus knows how to play your body too well, hot tongue circling your clit in slow, devoted motions until breaking away, fucking into your cunt as he watches in smug victory as you grind against the perfect arch of his nose in ways you know will bring you over the edge far too quickly. His usual patience is gone, only desperation remains. Desperation to prove himself, desperation to break you.

You swear you nearly taste blood with how hard you’re biting your lip. 

He's making out with your pussy like a man starved, the way he refuses to part even long enough to breathe, the way his hands are still holding your wrists tight enough to bruise, the way he's still fucking begging you to let him hear your voice. You’re coming before you can help it, forcing your head to the side as you bite into the pillow, muffling your cries as you barely stop yourself from saying his name. 

Sylus doesn't miss it. He lets out a noise that's half laugh, half moan, before sitting back on his heels, pulling his tongue out of your pussy and replacing it with two thick fingers.

"That hardly counts, I could barely hear you." You try to ignore the way he crawls back over you, lips swollen glistening with your release and drool, his entire hulking body trembling at the mere sight of you coming undone. "Was my apology not enough? I'll do more. I'd do anything to earn your forgiveness."

Sylus kisses your bruised thighs again, above your womb, your stomach, chest. It's a trail of fire up your body, worshiping every inch he can reach as the pads of his fingers curling to push against that spongy spot inside of you. It's so hard not to make a sound, especially when Sylus has the gall to press his forehead against your temple, whispering pleas in your ear as he continues fucking you with his fingers.

"I just need to hear your voice again, pretty thing, just a little. I want to hear how good I make you feel. Please."

"Sy--" Fuck. You barely stopped yourself, shaking your head violently as you claw at Sylus's biceps, pulling his arm in closer, faster.

Sylus all but whines at the denial of his name.

He lowers himself entirely, each ragged breath hot against your ear just as his neglected cock, twitching and leaking against your stomach. “Please, let me make it up to you. I’d give you anything, everything you could ever want.” His fingers curl, hitting your g-spot with cruel accuracy even as he continues begging so, so sweetly. “I’ll be—“ a lick across your ear, “such—" sucking the sensitive shell, “—a good boy."

Your moan is broken, strangled, and barely audible, breaking through your clenched jaw, but the way your whole body convulses let him know you're close. He kisses you hard, swallowing every sound, his hand never ceasing between your legs.

"You're going to forgive me now, won't you, sweetie?" He coos, and when you nod desperately, Sylus pulls back to watch your face. "Say my name, say it, please. Please, talk to me. You know I can’t even cum anymore without hearing your voice. Hearing you ask for me, my cum."

The confession is filthy, and does horrible, terrible things to you.

“You—” you growl, frustration thick in your voice, hating how easily you gave in. “You’re disgusting. Mean.”

Sylus’s eyes nearly roll back at that—at the sound of your voice after so long. You sound divine, even when you're furious. He groans, rutting his hips against you, the underside of his cock dragging along your stomach as you hiss in faux disgust.

“Oh? So you are talking to me again?” he moans, reveling in the feel of your heat wrapped around his fingers, your slick on his lips, the way your glare flickers between hatred and something far more dangerous.

"Again,” he pants, “call me that again."

"Disgusting."

Sylus bites his lip, moaning low into your ear as he grinds against you, his touch relentless.

"Mean," you sneer, trying to shove him away, but you are powerless against his hulking body, every inch pressing close enough to have you gasping for breath.

"Awful."

"You’re,” Your breath catches as his fingers quicken, his thumb circling your clit with devastating precision. You’re going to come again. “Fucking evil.”

"Yeah,” Sylus repeats, chuckling, eyes half-lidded and dazed as he watches you convulse around his fingers, “I’m the big, bad, evil villain.”

So mean isn’t he? Cooing sweetly as you come undone, violently squirting as your cum drips down his wrist and forearm. If you want evil, then he can do that too. He can earn your forgiveness and have you beg for it too.

It's all too much. The man is a demon, a monster, an angel, and his fingers are working you up to the highest heavens, the way he looks down at you in reverence as his hair falls in a messy curtain, a look of utter adoration on his face. And the way his cock, red and throbbing, presses against the juncture of your hip and thigh, dripping precum down the length as he neglects it all for you.

But you want him. All of him.

"Sylus."

He moans, loud and deep, like the sound of his name on your lips is enough to undo him. You can’t help it—you’re crying now, hot tears burning at the corners of your eyes as you gasp for air.

"Sylus, Sylus. Sylus." Your voice cracks, raw with need. "M’sorry. Please, I want—ah fuck—I need you, fuck. Want all of you. Sylus."

He’s on you before you can finish, mouth crashing into yours, kissing you with a feverish intensity that would bruise any other's lips. He kisses you like he’s starving, swallowing every syllable, every whimper, like he’s terrified you’ll take it all back.

And then—you feel it. The sudden, hot spray of his cum between your bodies, painting your stomach and chest as he whines into the kiss. Untouched, undone just from your voice, from the way you’re finally his again.

"Thank you, thank you," Sylus groans against your lips, voice wrecked, relief pouring out of him like he’s been waiting an eternity just to hear you say those words.

He keeps his fingers moving, edging you dangerously close to another orgasm, until you're practically squirming in his grip. Even then, he doesn't stop, he doesn't remove his fingers. He pulls back just far enough to watch your face, eyes wide and searching.

"Again, kitten, again. Please, keep saying my name."

"Sylus."

Your body is trembling, and his hand doesn't stop until you're squirming away, the stimulation too much. Only then does Sylus finally pull his fingers out, licking them clean, the other hand cupping the back of your head as he kisses you again.

"Forgive me?"

You nod, and Sylus grins, fanged and fucked-out.

"Say it out loud for me."

You scoff, "Yes. I forgive you."

"Perfect. Then I might have to ask for your forgiveness again."

And just as he finishes his confession, your knees are pressed up to your ears, folding you in half as Sylus slides back into your dripping cunt. Without any resistance the entirety of his length thrusts deep inside of you, your lower stomach bulging ever so slightly from his girth, your mind blanking as you’re spread wide against the muscular jut of Sylus’s hips. His hands are everywhere, gripping your hair, squeezing your neck, grabbing at your waist and hips, pulling you up into every thrust. 

"Forgive me, you're so perfect. So beautiful." He kisses along your neck, whispering his praises and compliments, forcing his thumb into your mouth as he pries your lips open to hear you better. "Never keep these sounds from me again, understand?"

You moan a yes around his thumb, and Sylus growls.

"That's a good girl."

He doesn’t relent. Sylus effortlessly begins guiding you into his thrust with one hand, the other remaining pressed against your abdomen, stroking at the outline of his dick pressing through with every rock forward. Large hands splay your thighs wider, closer, impossibly stretching you out until all you can feel is him. 

“Forgive me.” Your breasts jolt with each thrust and before he can stop himself Sylus leans down and bites, nipping and licking into the sensitive peak as you sob from the pain and pleasure. It makes you dizzy, the gentle licks and kisses over your skin in mock apology until he bites down again. And again. 

There’s no remorse in Sylus’s voice anymore, only pussydrunk and obsessed. “Please, forgive me.” Utterly obsessed. Devoted, perhaps.

Just thinking about Sylus giving you attitude when he mimics your words during the event, but he really hates when you flip it back on him... especially when it means you stop begging/talking to him next time you have sex as revenge.

Best believe he's pounding you deep into the mattress as soon as he realized what you're doing, nonstop filth coming out of his mouth as he begs you to forgive him and let him hear you once more as you fight nearly to tears to keep your sounds muffled just to torture him a little longer.

[valentine-cafe]

Cnc overstim with 209 rishen, making him beg us for mercy as m reader fucks him senseless, degrading him and humiliating him, lightly spanking his cock every so often. Wringing out round after round to no end 😌😌😌

˖⁺. ﹙ bottom switch mad scientist x top dom male reader . ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . we're not stopping until i say so !! 🍒 :  villain ˖ yandere character ˖ spider-mantis-moth hybrid ˖ mad scientist﹙ verse 209 rishen. ﹚

some nice cnc overstim with rishen 209 <3, cw: cnc, so much cum, overstimulation, begging, silk slit overstimulation, rough sex, neck pinning, degreadation, humiliation, handjob ( rishen recieving )

Bated breaths fill the room, you have your pretty husband below you about to cum again for the 6th time.

Whines spill from his pretty lips and trickle into the bedsheets from below, after the light spank his cock recieved in as your own hit one of the specific bundle of nerves in his pretty little hole that had him out cold almost.

“p-please— Please- ple— Mercy, god I— mnhgh!!”

His pretty moans pull you into a state of extacy. Bathing in the feel of soft velvet walls hugging against the hard dick that fill them so well and nudge against the silk slit inside of it multiple times.

“What? Mercy?” Barks of laughter vibrate through your chest, while stroking your right hand up his chest, then up towards his neck squeeze it down against the pillows

“I thought you were the kind of whore that could take it.”

deep maroon hues make loops at the degredation that slither’s through red tinted ears.

You shake his head a little. Murmuring for him to open up his mouth. Only to spit into it the second that his lips part, enjoying the sound of his little choke.

The speed only continues to develop, as if your pace wasn’t already skull shattering enough. You go to rot away at the most intelligent brain the world has ever seen.

“—p— mhn, c-can’t take any-m-more— nhgh!”

Most satisfying of all, you managed to shut your husband’s smart mouth earlier when your dick began ramming into that silkslit of his. Oh the vulnerable spots you love to overstimulate over and over again to watch the hybrid below you spread like a million flowers all at once.

“C’mon, you know you can, slut. Cumming so much, just because of a little bit of overstim.” You cackle, only to raise a brow when he narrows his eyes and tries to let out a weak: “S-shut up.” Yet he’d fall to his doom once more at the reminder of the strong hand wrapped around his neck like the most fine jewellery.

“Gonna have to pound you a little harder if you can act bratty still.”

A loud whine, follwed by a wheeze of air passing through Rishen’s lungs like it never has. Your entire body pins him against the bed. Joined by your other rough hand jerking away at the sensitive dick between your abdomen and his.

With a rough thumb rubbing away at the silk slit right below the hood of his tip, and your leaking dick hitting against the web slit inside, he ends up passing out due the amount of pleasure gonig through him. You slow down in pace by quite a lot, humming softly as you wait for him to wake up again.

Slowly, when he comes back to consciousness, you huff with a little smirk.

“Felt that good?”

“Mhhn. . . I’ll— Get you back for this.” He laughs quietly and claws down your back, stealing a groan from your lips with his and swallowing it down, bucking his hips upwards feverishly.

[devixxish]

Synopsis: A dive into Gojo's mentality after your inevitable break up. Can be read as a follow up to this.

Word Count: 1,101

Tags: angst, emotional distress, self blame, basically he's going thru it after y'alls breakup.

A/N: while taking a break from working on main pieces, I came up with this lil sumn. Enjoy? <33

It was quiet. Way too quiet. The kind of quiet that made his own breathing sound too loud, made the walls feel like they were closing in on him. Suffocating. Yet his apartment felt too big without you in it. Too still.

He sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. His fingers twitched, restless. Like they were searching, yearning for something to hold onto. But there was nothing. There hadn't been anything for a while now, and it was all his own fault.

The lamp in the corner buzzed faintly, lighting the room in a dull, yellow glow. It didn't quite reach the far corners. It barely reached the shadows creeping in from the hallway, long and unmoving. The air was cold and stale, heavy with the scent of something old, but not really. Something faint, something familiar. Your perfume still clung to the fabric of his bedsheets, to every little thing you had touched in his apartment. Too light to be real, too strong to ignore.

He should open a window. Or maybe turn the heater on. He should just do something to make the place feel less empty, less quiet, less.. Less like you. But all he did was sit there, wallowing in his own regrets.

The apartment still looked like you might walk in at any moment. His bedsheets still messy from the last time you were there; he hadn't touched them. Your hair tie on the bathroom sink. A forgotten sweater draped over the chair by the window. A book you never got to finish, spine-up on the nightstand. Little pieces of you, scattered everywhere. He told himself he should put it all away, or maybe send them over to you, save you the trouble of coming over to pick them up. But the thought of erasing you like that, of making it truly final made him sick in his stomach.

The silence was almost deafening, louder than any argument you had ever had.

It had been a few days, maybe a week since he let go. Or maybe since you let go. Since everything slipped through his fingers and he just let it happen. Not because you wanted to leave. Not because you got tired of him, or fell out of love. But because he was the one who pushed you away in the worst way possible.

He didn't mean to. God, he didn't mean to.

But how do you hold onto something real when you're still haunted by a ghost?

He thought he had time. He thought you'd always be there, waiting for him to open his eyes, to see what was right in front of him. Thought he had time to figure his shit out. He thought you understood. How selfish of him. People aren't placeholders; he figured you eventually realized that. You realized you weren't what he wanted. Not really.

And by the time he did want you - really want you - it was too late. You were already gone.

A car drove by outside. Muffled voices sounded from somewhere down the street. The neighbor's dog barked. Life kept moving on without him. No one knew he was there, sitting in his apartment that still reminded him of you, wishing he could undo the last few months of his life.

A sharp exhale left his chest, shaky, unsteady. With a shake of his head, he let out a small laugh, a bitter sound. A few years ago, he would've scoffed at the thought of himself like this- sitting alone in his freezing apartment, alone, a mess, waiting for someone to notice he was fucking miserable. He was always the one who didn't need anyone. The strongest; nothing could touch him.

But look at him now.

Drenched in sorrow, full of regrets, rethinking his every decision. Silently begging for someone to care.

And still, no one did.

He leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face, fingers pressing into his temples. His mind hazy and his body heavy, keeping him stuck on this moment, on this feeling. The memories came in flashes. The way your eyes used to light up when you smiled at him. The way you'd hold onto his hand, laughing at something stupid he said. The way you looked at him that last night; hurt, exhausted, waiting for him to say something that never came.

His eyes drifted over to the place you used to sit, curled in on yourself, or wrapped around him. The place where you talked or read, or simply existed in the unique way you did. Now, it was just messy sheets, a dent in the mattress and silence. Another ghost.

He missed you. God, he really did. Not just the version of you in his head, but you. The real you. The one who did wait for him, maybe longer than you should have. The one who tried to love him even when he couldn't love you back properly. The one he let slip away because he was too caught up in someone else who belonged in his past. Because he had been too blind, too fucking selfish to see what he had until it was already gone.

People don't just wake up and decide they'll leave. They leave when they realize they were never really chosen.

And he had let you walk away thinking you never meant anything.

He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw tight as he let out a slow exhale.

You were better now, away from him. At least, he hoped you were. You deserved that much and even more. And he- he didn't know what he deserved anymore. Maybe this was exactly what he deserved. Nights like this, stuck inside his own head, replaying every moment, every second of whatever went wrong.

How pathetic.

How fucking human.

The apartment felt smaller now. Like the walls were shrinking, ready to swallow him whole. His ribs felt like they were closing in on him, pressing against his already aching heart.

He needed to move, to do something. Maybe go to bed, or take a walk, or just do something other than sit there drowning in this feeling. His body refused to cooperate, but he finally willed himself to stand up.

Being in there, alone with his thoughts, surrounded by all the places you used to be- he couldn't stand it anymore.

So he grabbed his jacket.

He didn't know where he would go. But then again, he didn't really care.

If he was lucky, maybe the night would swallow him whole before the morning could find him.

Devixxish© All rights reserved. Do not repost, reupload or modify my work in any way.

@spaceinvadernelly as promised<3

[shuadotcom]

Strawberry Sunday (YJH & KMG)

->Summary: When your best friend is away, you and Jeonghan always find time to play. This time he invites his friend to play along and things get a little messy - in the literal sense. ->Genres/Tropes/AUs: Smut, best friend’s brother, fuckbuddies (is this a trope???) non!idol au, pwp ->Rating: 18+ MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED ->Words: 8.4k | ->Warnings/Content: profanity, threesome, dirty talk, oral (m & f receiving), handjob, unprotected sex, fingering, food play, nipple/boob play, begging, praise, teasing, cum play/body painting, biting/marking, pet names (sweetheart, baby, good girl, babydoll) and I think that's it 😮‍💨 ->Note: Written for the secret cupid event hosted by @ddeonghwa-s! Hiiiii @gyuhanniescarat, it's meeee I'm your cupid!! 🩷 Please enjoy this fresh freak nasty filth I’ve whipped up for you!! 👩🏽‍🍳💋 (and tbh for myslf too bc as a ShuaHannieGyu girly I very much enjoyed creating this hehe)

Thank you 37432987414 billion times to @shadowkoo for the perfect banner!!!! I'm still so obsessed with it! And thank you to my love @soongyeopsal for always being my favorite beta 🥰

The weekend. Easygoing Saturdays and lazy Sundays: the perfect way to end a stressful, fast-paced week.

You're halfway through your weekend and feeling wonderfully relaxed. On Saturday, you did some light cleaning that you were behind on and leisurely, at your own pace, ran a few errands, but most of the day was spent in your apartment, curled up on the couch with a book in hand.

Sundays are for sleeping in and when you do finally wake up, you take a long shower, complete with your favorite candles and a lo-fi mix as you scrub and relax under the warm spray. Once you’re in your comfiest lounge clothes and have taken the time to whip up a yummy brunch, you settle in on your couch, remote in hand. There are a number of dramas that are overdue for your attention, so you decide to pick one at random and get lost in it.

And you do manage to get lost in your show, cozy blanket, and your couch. Your brunch has been eaten and your eyes start to droop shut as you feel a midday nap coming on.

This is interrupted when you hear the chime of your phone from somewhere in your blanket cocoon.When you manage to fish it out, you see an incoming call from your best friend.

“Hey, Soo, what’s up?”

“Y/n! Please lend me your baking skills!” She sounds desperate and it makes you nervous.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Sooyoung sighs heavily over the line, the sound of the phone shifting is almost too loud and you have to ​​pull yours away from your ear a little bit.

“Are you busy? Can you come over? I’m trying to make cupcakes for Hyoseob for Valentine’s day, you know, but I fucked up the recipe because you know baking isn’t really my thing and now I’m panicking and don’t know if I’ll get them done by tomorrow and could really use someone who knows what the hell they’re doing in here, please?”

A small laugh leaves you at your best friend’s frazzled speech and you can hear the pout in her voice.You glance around you, taking in one more view of your lazy Sunday setup, before turning off the TV.

“Of course, I’ll get dressed and come over.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you so much, Y/n! I love you so much, thank you, thank you!!”

“Love you too. See you in a few.”

Once you hang up you sigh. You do enjoy baking and you always love spending time with Sooyoung so helping her won’t hurt. It’s not really the plan you had for today, but it could be worse, so you won’t complain. Not too much at least.

At least the drive to Sooyoung’s isn’t long and there wasn’t much traffic on the road which you’re grateful for. You get to the small house she shares with her brother and it only takes one knock to have her swinging the door open.

“Thank god, come in!” She grabs your arm, giving you enough time to at least take off your shoes, and parades you into the kitchen. As you pass the hallway, you can hear voices and the sound of a TV in the distance.

“Is Jeonghan here?” you ask, trying to sound casual. You do a great job at not making any indication that you’re actually hopeful that her older brother is here.

Yoon Jeonghan is the prettiest man you’ve ever had the pleasure of being around. And as of two months ago, he’s also the prettiest man who you’ve been lucky enough to have pleasured you.

It wasn’t on purpose, you always remind yourself. You just so happened to be over, drinking with Sooyoung and her brother as you all hung out on a Saturday night. Sooyoung drank a little too much and passed out. You and Jeonghan did your best to take her to her room and tuck her in.

Honestly, after that you’re not even sure how it happened, but you ended up riding Jeonghan on his bed and he gave you what you still think was quite possibly the best orgasm you’ve ever experienced in your life.

Since then, you and he have hooked up secretly here and there when given the chance, but nothing serious has come of it. He just has a pretty dick and knows how to fuck so who are you to say no when he offers?

“Oh, yeah sorry. He and Mingyu are here, unfortunately. Mingyu stayed over last night and wouldn’t you know, neither of them helped me at all!”

“Well, Jeonghan doesn’t really belong in the kitchen,” you joke. You also hide how you nearly choke on your spit when she mentions Mingyu’s name. You don’t know him that well, but he’s around enough that you can easily remember what he looks like (gorgeous) and how he’s built (like a greek god).

“Yeah, but Mingyu does! Remember he made that cake for my birthday last year! And the food he made at our housewarming. But when I asked, Jeonghan said ‘no they’re busy’ and dragged him away. They’ve been in his room all day doing whatever it is men do.” Sooyoung scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, that’s fine because now my bestie is here and is a better baker than all of us combined!”

You smile, genuinely appreciating the compliment, but also taking in the state of the kitchen. It’s a good size with a decent amount of counter space and great natural lighting. Said counter space now, though, is covered in ingredients and bowls and even some sprinkles and sugar and flour.

“So uh, what was the plan in here?” you ask, doing a slow lap around the room and eyeing two bowls of what looks like batter and fluffy, pink icing.

“Okay, so I wanted to make a batch of strawberry and a batch of chocolate cupcakes for Hyo, but then I burnt the chocolate cakes so those are a dud, and I ran out of sugar for the strawberry cupcakes and the chocolate frosting. I’ve been at this since I woke up at like 9 and all I have to show for it is a burnt tray and this mess you can see. The only thing I think I did right was the strawberry frosting.” She gestures to the bowl closest to you. You grab a spoon from the drawer and dip into the frosting, taking a small amount.

“Mmm. This is good.”

“Thank you! But now, I have to go to the store and get the missing ingredients and then try this again which is why I called you because if I go and get what I need and screw it up again, I think I’m going to have a full meltdown and cancel Valentine’s day.” Sooyoung lets out a huff, shoulders deflating as she sniffs.

You toss the spoon in the sink and rush over to hug your friend. You push away your thirsty thoughts for her brother and his friend and focus on her.

“Hey, it’s okay, girl! I’m here now, okay? I’ll help you tidy up, we’ll go over the ingredients you have left, make a list for the store, and get a game plan going okay? I’m here to help.”

With wide, shining eyes, Sooyoung pulls back and pouts at you. “You promise?”

“Of course! I got you.”

The brunette girl smiles at you, sniffling once more and then she lets you direct her to where to start.

It doesn’t take long to tidy up and get everything ready to start baking again. You toss the unfortunate batch of burnt chocolate cupcakes and place plastic wrap over the bowl of strawberry frosting, setting it aside since it’s the only success so far.

You help Sooyoung with the list of things she needs to grab for the chocolate cupcakes plus some extra ingredients just in case. After tidying up, you find out she has just enough of everything else for you to start the batter for the strawberry cupcakes while she’s gone.

“I shouldn’t take too long! I know the store closest to us is closed on Sundays, but there’s one like twenty minutes away so I should be back when the cupcakes are at least in the oven!”

You’re making sure you have everything in front of you that you need to prepare the batter so you nod, agreeing with her and saying goodbye. Once Sooyoung is gone, your borrowed apron is tied, you play some music on your phone, humming along, lost in your own baking world.

“If I had known there’d be a cute girl in my kitchen, I would’ve come out here to help a while ago.”

Jeonghan’s voice from the doorway makes you jump. You’d just added together the wet and dry ingredients and the sudden intrusion nearly makes you jump out of your skin.

You offer a wave as he and Mingyu file into the kitchen with Jeonghan coming to stand behind you.

“Well, your sister needed help and you didn’t come to offer a hand.” You hum, feeling Jeonghan’s hand ghosting over your hips and thighs.

“Yeah, but I’d much rather help you.”

“But what if I don’t need any help?” you shoot back, glancing over your other shoulder, seeing Mingyu hovering over the bowl of strawberry frosting on the kitchen island.

“Hmm, well I don’t know about that… It looks like you might need some help here.” As he speaks, his nimble fingers trail to the front of your jeans, ghosting over your covered crotch.

“Jeonghan,” you warn, “I have to get this batter in the oven while Sooyoung is gone. She’s gonna expect them to be baking.”

Normally, Jeonghan’s silky soft voice and skilled hands has your clothes off of you in no time. You and he had fallen into an unspoken kind-of friends with benefits thing. You don’t really talk for leisure over the phone or anything, save for a few flirty texts sometimes when you post something he likes online, but most of your communication is in person when you’re with Sooyoung or with each other’s tongues in your mouths when it’s just the two of you.

Sooyoung doesn’t know that you’ve been fucking her brother for the last two months, mostly because you don’t know how to even approach the subject. Plus, it’s just casual fun that you and Jeonghan have. It’s not like you’re dating or anything.

That’s not to say you wouldn’t date Jeonghan, but that’s an entirely other conversation to be had and feelings to unearth that you’d prefer to stay buried until that’s something you have the energy to dive into. For now, casually fucking him whenever you can will suffice.

“Hey, I’m not stopping you. Keep doing what you’re doing.” His voice is low, a smirk quirking at the corners as he places feather light kisses on your neck. His hands land on your hips, lightly squeezing as he brings the front of his body flush with you.

As best as you can, you finish adding everything to the bowl, grabbing the whisk a few inches away from you and starting to combine all of the ingredients. It proves to be more difficult than you thought when Jeonghan starts nibbling at the skin at the base of your neck, pulling your sweater collar aside to get to it.

A soft, breathy sound slips out of you when he bites down, the bowl almost falling out of your hand as you tilt it to get a better angle. Luckily it doesn’t, but you do spill some of the batter on the counter.

“Oops. You better be careful not to make a mess, sweetheart.”

He’s playing so dirty by dropping a pet name, and it immediately has your stomach clenching. Jeonghan reaches over you, his finger scooping up the splattered batter. He brings it up to your lips, waiting.

He doesn’t have to wait long, your mouth opening and the digit eagerly dipping inside, landing on your tongue. You close your lips and suck, eyes slipping closed both at the taste and the gesture itself.

“Good girl,” Jeonghan whispers and it takes everything in you not to turn and fall to your knees in front of him right then.

You and Jeonghan are lost in each other, you still lightly suckling on his finger while he peppers the side of your neck with kisses again.

“Um,” a third voice clears from behind you both and your eyes shoot open, letting go of Jeonghan’s finger. You had completely forgotten that Mingyu was less than a foot away.

You straighten up, focusing on the task at hand again, whisking the sweet concoction and trying to calm your wild heartbeat.

Jeonghan turns to Mingyu with an eyebrow raised, both hands resting on your hips. “What’s up?”

Mingyu lets out a nervous chuckle, hand moving up to push back his dark locks. “I mean… Bro, I’m standing right here.”

“So?” Jeonghan challenges. “What’s a little fun amongst friends? I’m always down for fun. What about you baby, do you like to have fun?” The latter part is for you, your eyes darting over your shoulder to Jeonghan, to Mingyu, then back to Jeonghan.

Is…is he saying what you think he's saying? Is he proposing you hook up with him and Mingyu? You don’t want to say it out loud, scared you’re reading the room incorrectly. You hold Jeonghan’s gaze for a few seconds, his smile softening just a little and eyes twinkling as he blinks.

“Y-yeah. I like to have fun.”

“See!” Jeonghan immediately says, reaching out to pinch your waist. “Baby is always so nice to me and she’ll also be nice to my friend.” A shiver runs through you at his words and it takes real work and concentration to focus on making sure you don’t fling cupcake batter all over.

Jeonghan uses the beat of silence in the room and your concentration on your work as an opportunity.

Soft hands are back at your waist, rubbing and squeezing lightly before his fingers practically dance to the front of your jeans. He plays with your zipper for a few seconds before pulling the metal down and easily undoing the button.

You can’t help the way your breath catches in your throat when he slips his hand into your pants, fingers immediately finding your covered clit. A squeak comes out of you as Jeonghan applies light, casual pressure, humming in satisfaction. Your mixing is paused as you close your eyes, relishing in the slow, meticulous circles he makes.

“Make sure you concentrate, sweetheart. Didn’t you say you have to finish this by the time my sister comes back?” His tone is teasing and he chuckles at the way you flinch when he reminds you that you’re on a timer.

It takes all of your resolve, but you do hone in on the bowl in front of you, finally deeming it smooth enough to be baked.

Jeonghan’s fingers stay pressed on the outside of your underwear, but he gives you enough room to reach over to grab at the cupcake pans that have been greased and sat waiting nearby.

Mingyu is now standing closer than before, not close enough to touch, but close enough that his eyes can see where Jeonghan’s hand is.

With shaking hands, you begin pouring the batter into the cupcake slots. It’s truly a feat as his fingers are still working at you. The task suddenly becomes almost impossible when said fingers finally slip into your panties, slender digits rubbing against your already wet folds.

A yelp comes from you which makes Jeonghan coo at you. “Look at you, baby. Already wet just from some teasing.”

“I - it’s your fault,” you manage to sigh out, faux annoyance in your words which Jeonghan already knows is a front.

“Not my fault you want my fingers inside you so bad. That is what you want, isn’t it?” His lips ghost over your neck again and you feel him hover so close to your entrance, but not actually making a move to enter you.

“Fuck, you know it is, Hannie.”

Jeonghan grins ear to ear - you only bring out his nickname when he’s making you feel good.

“Wanna hear you say it, baby.” The tip of his finger is right there - all he needs to do is crook his finger and he’ll push his way into your hole.

“Hannie,” you beg, “please, please, please put your fingers in me? I need you,” The words are breathy and your hands have stopped working, gripping the half empty bowl as you await his next move.

“Since you used your manners and said please, I suppose I can. Just make sure you finish your batter,” his hair tickles your neck as he leans down to kiss your neck again and he finally slips a finger into your pussy.

“A-ahhh!” You let out a breathy moan as he finally gives you what you want, immediately pulling you closer to his chest while you pour the batter, every single inch of your brain struggling not to fuck it up.

When you finally get the cupcake pan filled, Jeonghan has slipped two fingers into your cunt, his fingers working you slowly, the sounds of your own wetness mixes with the music you still have playing on your phone in the background.

“Hannie,” you breathe out, eyes fluttering closed as he finds your g-spot, massaging it with gentle strokes.

“Yes, baby?”

“I - the oven. I need to p-put these in,” the sentence is a struggle and Jeonghan chuckles, loving the way you go almost braindead when he’s touching you.

Jeonghan slips his fingers out of you and you whimper at the loss. He finally backs away, allowing you room to open the oven. Everything is quiet save for your music and your rapid breathing.

Once the mini cakes are in, the timer is set, and oven mitts are placed aside, Jeonghan strikes.

He spins you around, letting your ass hit the counter as he cups your face and leans in to kiss you finally. Soft lips work expertly over yours, drawing little sighs out of you. Jeonghan’s an excellent kisser, in addition to an amazing lay, so kissing him always sets your body alight. His hands eventually drift from your face, one inching up to the back of your neck to wrap around the base while the other slips down and behind you to grab a handful of your ass, pulling your body flush against his. You can already feel his half-hard erection poking against you and you clench your thighs together.

You and Jeonghan make out sloppily, the kiss nothing but teeth and tongue and little noises you both make. Eventually, he pulls away, both of you panting. He turns his head and gestures for Mingyu to come closer.

You shamelessly eye the very tall and very wide man that approaches. His black long-sleeved shirt hugs his chest in a sinful way and his loose fitting pants do very little to hide his obvious arousal.

“Mingyu already knows that we sometimes like to spend time together. I figured that since we’re all here and we have a little time, you can show him just how good you can be. I think you want to anyway.” Jeonghan pulls you away from the counter and maneuvers you into Mingyu’s surprised hold.

His arms wrap around your middle, loosely hanging there but making no move to let you go. Your hands land on his chest and you can’t hold back from squeezing the firm muscle underneath. He blinks down at you, eyes boring into yours in mild shock. He effortlessly recovers from his shock of suddenly having you in his hold, a smirk replacing the ‘o’ shape his mouth had taken.

“I’d love to actually,” you whisper out finally, gulping audibly when you finally catch a whiff of Mingyu’s warm cologne. “But your sister is only going to the store for a few things so we don’t have time.”

As if forgetting that you’re only this close because of her absence, Jeonghan pauses next to you, and feels the pockets of his sweats for his phone.

“Damn, I think I left my phone in my room. What time is it?”

“Check my phone,” you jerk your head towards the counter, directing him to where your phone lays charging a few inches away. You’re still leaning against Mingyu’s firm chest as the man rubs circles into your lower back that have your knees feeling like jelly at just how warm and gentle and big his hands are.

Your eyes are staring at his lips as he looks between yours and your eyes. It’s clear you’re both wanting to do something but are waiting for an update on the timing you have.

“Well will you look at that,” Jeonghan starts as he looks at your phone. He brings it to you, showing you a notification on your lock screen from Sooyoung. The words start with ‘I fucking hate traffic…”

Reluctantly you move one hand from Mingyu’s chest to take your phone and unlock it.

Sure enough, when you get to the messages, there’s a few texts from Sooyoung, complaining about traffic and an accident that’s taking so long she hasn’t even made it halfway to the store yet.

You send a few texts back and forth and she says she isn’t sure how long it’ll take to get there and back now, but she’s not going to give up. You reply that the cupcakes are in the oven now so everything is still on track and encourage her not to let the traffic win. You remind her of her boyfriend whom she’s doing all this for and how happy he’ll be to receive handmade edible gifts from her. You think it’ll give you enough time.

You make sure your ringer is turned on and tell her to update you along her journey and she agrees. Handing your phone back to Jeonghan, you fill him and Mingyu in on Sooyoung’s current location and the status of the trip.

“So…what does she think, she’ll take more than half an hour?” Mingyu speaks up, finally uttering more than a few words.

“Probably,” you guess, both hands now back, firmly planted on the man.

“If you ask me, I think that’s enough time for some fun,” Jeonghan offers, fingers playing with the tie on the back of your apron.

“I think you’re right,” you agree. It’s all you need to say before both men start to move.

Mingyu finally leans down and captures your lips in a rough kiss. His tongue immediately darts out, licking at your lips, begging for entrance. You allow him in, his tongue plunging into your mouth to taste every part of you.

Behind you, Jeonghan manages to untie your apron as his hands move to the waistband of your jeans and easily slide them down your legs. His fingers, a little cold, trace the front of your panties before he’s yanking those down too and helping you step out of them. Your body jumps at the sensation of being exposed like this, but Mingyu moves from your lips to your neck and that’s what your attention is diverted to.

Jeonghan’s hands caress your ass, kneading and handling your cheeks slowly but roughly.

“Sorry, Gyu, but I need to see her,” he warns before pulling you away from Mingyu and turning you so you can lean your upper body on the counter.

You let out a yelp at both the sudden turn and at the fact that you’re bent over the kitchen counter, naked ass and cunt on full display for them.

“Fuck,” Mingyu hisses before you feel a hand land a surprising smack on your ass.

“Right? She’s already fucking glistening, isn’t she,” Jeonghan agrees and you can’t help the embarrassment that heats up your spine, knowing your wetness is evident and being observed. There’s a moment of shuffling before you feel soft hands on you again, pushing apart your legs more. “Can you make room for me, sweetheart? Gotta show Gyu how good you look.” Of course you oblige, opening as wide as is comfortable and resting more on the counter.

“Just like that,” Jeonghan praises before he goes in, sinking two fingers back into you, a small, but audible whoosh of air is heard from both men.

Jeonghan, having been between your legs numerous times at this point, knows exactly where to apply pressure and the angle to piston his fingers to have you a moaning mess in his hands.

“Mmph, fuck, Jeonghan!” You can’t help the yell of his name, your knees shaking as he fucks you faster with his fingers. His other hand brushes upward, over your ass and up your spine until it wraps around the back of your neck. He applies the lightest of pressure to the sides of your neck then pushes you down, making your ass poke out more to make his actions more visible to himself and Mingyu.

“Fucking hell,” Mingyu breathes from next to you. When you can manage to lift your head and turn, your drooping eyes see him, hand shoved into his pants, pumping back and forth under the fabric.

Biting your lip, you manage to gesture him over to you with the flick of your hand. Mingyu doesn’t need to be told twice as he scurries next to you, within arm’s length. It’s not the easiest position, but you manage to reach out and shove your hand into his pants. You immediately find his generous length and you wrap your hand around it, squeezing a few times before jerking him off. You worry that your pace is too slow, but the way that Mingyu’s head falls back has you rethinking that. He lets out a low groan as you work him, one hand resting on the counter and the other reaching up to grasp at his own hair.

You marvel at him, this tall, hot man that’s scrunching up his face and biting his lip because of the way your hand moves over his dick.

Wanting to redirect your attention back to him, Jeonghan picks up the pace and eases a third finger into you, his other hand finally snaking around you to press hard against your swollen clit.

“Ah-ah! J-Jeonghan, please.”

“Hmmm?” he hums, already knowing what you want.

“Faster, please. ‘M gonna cum!” He makes a noise of acknowledgement and the movements on your bundle of nerves become harder.

“I guess I’ll let you cum. You’ve been good so far, especially helping Mingyu out with his problem.” His words sound sweet, but you also know if this was just you and him and you had more time, he’d still be teasing you until you cry. That’s not the case now though, as Jeonghan takes a moment to readjust the angle of his hand before he’s driving his fingers in and out of you with all of his force while his other hand still busies itself with your swollen clit.

Your grip on Mingyu’s dick falters, your eyes fluttering closed again as Jeonghan works to push you closer to the edge. Without missing a beat, Mingyu’s hand rests over yours, guiding you up and down his length which seems just as good as you doing it on your own.

Mingyu’s moans match yours in frequency, both high pitched and breathy. “J-Jeonghan, just like that, shit! Fuck!” When you finally cum, your face rests against the tile, yelps echoing in your own ears. Mingyu lets your hand go to allow you to grip the counter top, trying to keep your balance.

Jeonghan, being who he usually is when you’re together, doesn’t immediately let up his actions, fingers still tapping at your sensitive bud a few more times before you’re whining even more and attempting to close your legs.

With a snicker, he finally pulls back, sighing loudly as he dramatically licks his fingers.

“So fucking good as always.”

“Yeah?” Mingyu quips, his eyes locked in on your swollen folds, wet with your release.

“Yeah, you should have a taste too, Gyu.”

You don’t even get a chance to ask the time or check your phone, which is what you thought about doing first, because Mingyu’s got your hips in his grasp and turns you around. Your wide eyes stare at him and you think that he has to look just as ruined as you feel.

“Would you mind if I get a taste of you, babydoll?” Something about the way the pet name rolls off Mingyu’s tongue sends a whole other sensation rocketing through you.

You breathe out a ‘yes,’ and Mingyu immediately uses his strength to lift you quickly from around your waist.

“Mingyu!” you squeal, arms wrapping around his neck as he carries you to the kitchen island and places you down as if you weigh nothing. He winks at you before he’s sliding down to his knees and opening your thighs.

He lets out a low whistle which you want to ask the meaning of, but you don’t get a chance as he surges forward, wrapping his lips around your still sensitive clit.

He suckles the nub a few times as you whine above him before diving his tongue into your entrance. He wastes no time eating you out more frantically than you think even Jeonghan has. Within no time you’re a moaning mess, head rolling back and body both trying to run from his talented mouth and trying to push yourself closer. He keeps his hands positioned on your thighs, gripping you so that even when you try and flinch away, he can still direct you back to his mouth.

He makes small grunts from below you, some of satisfaction, but most are just from getting lost in you: sounds of pleasure as his tongue darts in and out of your entrance, his lips latched onto your lower ones. It feels as though he’s got his entire face buried between your legs, his mouth damn near enveloping your entire pussy. His tongue is stiff as it darts in and out of you, rubbing against your walls and licking every inch of you that he possibly can.

Your eyes are closed, but you still hear the soft sound of Jeonghan’s footsteps moving closer. “Fuck, baby I didn’t know how hot it’d be to see you get eaten out. Wish I had my phone right now to remember this.”

Somewhere in your foggy brain, you register his words and glare at him. Or at least you think it’s a glare - it’s hard to tell when you can barely keep your eyes open.

Either way, the older man gets the intention, chuckling and raising his hands. “Yeah, yeah I won’t.” His eyes sweep over your body, leaning forward to ease the apron from around your head, followed by your sweater and your bra.

Sitting completely naked on your best friend’s kitchen counter is the last place you thought you’d be today, yet here you are. Mingyu’s grunts between your legs can be felt through every part of your body, your next orgasm on the horizon.

“M - Mingyu! Fuck, ‘m gonna cum again!”

The man clearly hears you, making a sound of acknowledgement before his tongue moves up to suck hard on your clit. Two thick fingers slip easily into your twitching hole, moving fast and in time with his wild tongue.

Jeonghan grunts at the sight, his own pants now at his knees as he fists his cock, watching your body twitch and jerk. His eyes lock onto your tits, nipples hard and inviting and he almost leans forward to capture one in his mouth when his eyes suddenly dart to the bowl of frosting not too far from you all.

He’s reaching for it and taking the plastic off. He at least has enough decorum to grab a big spoon from a nearby drawer, scooping a hearty amount out. He takes a small dollop on one finger and reaches forward to smear it over one of your nipples.

The sensation catches you off guard as your eyes fly open to look, being met with Jeonghan’s almost cat-like grin. You don’t even get a chance to question his actions or scold him for dipping into the frosting before he’s leaning in, tongue lazily circling your areola and gingerly scraping his teeth over your nipple.

A single suckle follows and that’s all it takes for you to lock your thighs around Mingyu’s head, arching your back and letting out a long moan as you cum suddenly. Your eyes cross as the pleasure washes over you, letting yourself slump backwards on the counter, head hanging off as Mingyu snuffles against your skin and laps at your folds, cleaning up your release.

“Fucking shit,” Mingyu huffs when he finally decides to come up for air. “That was so fucking hot, you’re so fucking hot. And you taste amazing.”

You wheeze out a thanks, Jeonghan’s laugh ringing in your ears is the most evil yet sexiest thing you hear over your own breathing.

“Speaking of taste…” he trails off and doesn’t say anything else before you feel him on your other nipple and you jolt, head raising to look at him. He swirls another dollop of frosting on you, gesturing to Mingyu. The taller man doesn’t even question it as he leans down to pop your tit into his mouth.

“Oh!” you gasp as his tongue swirls around your nipple, moving round in a circle before sucking. Even when the frosting is gone, he stays latched to your chest and you’re squirming underneath him. Jeonghan attaches his mouth to your other side, smearing frosting from your nipple and up your breast, all the way to your collarbone. His tongue cleans up your nipple before his tongue is licking up, up, up to clean the sticky sugar off of you.

Mingyu sits up, letting go of your tit with a wet pop and reaches to grab the spoon of frosting from Jeonghan. He takes a glob and you watch as he draws a shape on your chest and sternum, mind too scrambled from Jeonghan’s licks to tell what it is. When Mingyu is satisfied with what he’s done, he gives you a once over with wide, blown out eyes and then his hungry mouth is on your skin again, cleaning up the mess he made on you slowly and deliberately. He makes sure his teeth scrape every inch of sensitive skin on you as he goes, ending right back at your swollen nipple.

You’re nothing but pants and cries and whimpers as both men do more of the same. Taking turns covering your chest in frosting then licking it off.

Between the heat of the oven and the heat of their mouths and hands that grip your thighs and hips, you’re feeling dizzy and are convinced you’re now dripping onto the tile underneath your body.

Somewhere in the distance you hear your phone ding, eyes snapping open at the possibility that it’s Sooyoung.

“My phone!” You squeak out, wriggling under their holds.

Jeonghan releases your abused skin, heavy lidded eyes look you over before he quickly turns to grab your phone.

“Looks like my sister is at the store. Says she shouldn’t take long and that the accident was clearing up as she finally made it through so she should be home pretty soon.”

Jeonghan reacts to his sister’s message with a thumbs up and rejoins you and his friend.

“Please, need you, one of you, both of you, just someone,” you plead to them. Between your desire to be fucked and the fact that the countdown is on until your best friend will be coming home, you don’t care who does it as long as one of them gets inside you.

“Normally, I’d make you beg for me more and make you wait, but we are in a time crunch,” Jeonghan agrees, looking over your trembling form. “Where do you want us?”

“Don’t care,” you sigh out when Mingyu finally pulls his puffy lips off of you.

He and Jeonghan share a look, clearly deciding who will go where. Just knowing that the two men are having a silent conversation as to which one of them will do what to your body has your thighs rubbing together in clear anticipation. Jeonghan glances at you, smirking at your movements before he’s moving around the island, laying your head back to hang off of it again.

“Here’s what we’ll do, Mingyu will stuff that needy pussy of yours since he’s my guest. Think you can handle sucking me off while he does?”

“Fuck, yes,” you nod eagerly the best you can from your angle, senses tingling at the idea of a new position you’ve never done. “Need something under my neck though,” Jeonghan leaves your side for a moment to grab what looks like his sweatpants. He rolls the fabric up and places it under your head and shoulders for support. Jeongha’s hands caress your face and shoulders, watching as Mingyu gets into position between your legs.

Knowing time is of the essence at this point, strong hands run down your thighs, settling behind your knees to spread them more. You soon fill the blunt, large tip of Mingyu’s dick nudge your entrance and you shudder.

He rubs the bulbous head against your folds, nudging your clit once before slathering himself in your juices and bringing it back to your entrance.

“Ready, babydoll?” he asks, readjusting his hold on the back of your knees.

“Yes, please!” The words barely leave your mouth before Mingyu is pushing in, inch by girthy inch, stretching you slowly as he goes.

“Shit, you’re still so tight,” he mumbles through gritted teeth as he goes slower and slower until he’s finally nestled between your silky walls and his pelvis is almost flush with the back of your thighs.

“She always is, no matter how many times I get her to cum for me,” Jeonghan marvels, eyes locked on where you and Mingyu are joined. He watches as Mingyu pulls back, cock sliding almost all the way out before slamming his hips, pushing a true scream out of your pretty lips. His friend wastes no time in building a fast-pace, sending your body jerking back and forth on the counter so hard, your hands raise above your head for something to find purchase on.

That something turns out to be Jeonghan’s thighs as he moves closer into your space. He helps you ease your head back until it drops back off the edge and he’s standing right in front of your face.

“Open up for me, sweetheart,” he coos down at you and you do as he says, mouth falling open in a loud moan as Mingyu’s cock hits a spot deep inside of you. Jeonghan’s dick, long, curved, and as pretty as the rest of him, eases into your mouth.

Mingyu slows down enough for Jeonghan to comfortably settle in your mouth, giving a few short thrusts. Both men curse under their breaths when they listen to the gagging sound that comes out of you as Jeonghan’s length hits the back of your throat.

“Tap my thigh twice if it’s too much, okay baby?” Jeonghan says to you and you tap his thigh once to let him know you heard him. “Good girl. Gonna fuck this pretty little mouth now, okay?” Your response is muffled, but it's affirmative and that’s all Jeonghan needs to begin moving his hips, the tip of his dick hitting the back of your throat again and again with slow, languid thrusts. The deliberate pace allows you to steady your breathing and shut your eyes to concentrate on taking him.

Soon enough, his thrusts are faster and Mingyu takes this as his cue to resume his movements as well. He doesn’t start as frantic as he did when he first slid into you, but his thrusts are so deep, you can also feel him in your chest. His dick is as big as the rest of him and you’re made aware of that as he stretches every inch of your walls to mold around him.

As soon as both men hear your whines around Jeongha’s length, they look at each other, nodding with a silent understanding of how they’ll fuck you together.

Mingyu’s pace goes from casual to anything but as he begins to drive his hips into yours again. His fingers dig into your hips as he fucks you, keeping you pinned in place as he does to keep you from sliding from the force.

Jeonghan’s gentle hands rest on either side of your head, stroking your cheeks carefully as he fucks your mouth, eyes falling closed as he does.

Your body feels like it’s on fire with both the sensation of your pussy and your mouth being used by both men. Your eyes stay wrenched closed tightly as you seesaw between them, back and forth, back and forth. Your ears can only pick up the wet squelches of your spit around Jeonghan’s cock and the sharp slap of Mingyu’s muscular thighs hitting the back of yours. He still has your legs up and open, pressing himself into you as far as he physically can.

“Fuck, your mouth is fucking heaven, baby,” Jeonghan grunts as he drives his dick back and forth between your lips. He watches the drool pool around your mouth and drip down your face. He thinks he sees tears prick at your lash line too and the sight is nearly enough to have him explode right on the spot, but he holds back, wanting you to cum first.

Mingyu lets out a string of curses as he buries himself deeper, eyes fixated on the sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing in you, covered in a white ring of both of your juices. His eyes slide over to the bowl of frosting, still sitting on the counter and he reaches over, scooping more out to rub on your chest again. His pace falters a little as he leans over your body to lick you clean again and you let out a long, drawn out moan around Jeonghan as his red hot tongue licks fire across your sensitive skin.

Jeonghan follows his lead, but instead of covering you in the pink, sticky sweetness, he pulls his dick out of your mouth and smears it on your lips and down his dick instead.

“Baby didn’t get to taste it,” he murmurs so low that it sounds as if he’s almost talking to himself. When he slides himself back into your mouth, the sugary sweet flavor mixes with the heavy, salty taste of his precum and you excitedly accept as he plunges all the way down your throat. You relax and relish in the broken, almost desperate cry that he lets out when you swallow around him. “Shit! Just like that, sweetheart. You’re so fucking good to me,” You preen under the praise and do it again, only getting sidetracked up when Mingyu snaps his hips particularly hard as the same time that he bites down on one of your nipples.

A choked squeal is heard around Jeonghan’s length and both men feel their ends fast approaching.

“Fucking hell, babydoll. You close?” Mingyu asks against your sticky skin, biting and sucking at any of you that he can get his mouth on.

“Mmhmm!” you attempt to answer, which you can before Jeonghan’s dick is obstructing your airway again.

They hear you, though, and both reach out to make you cum first. Mingyu’s fingers toy with your clit, the pad of his thumb digging in to rub harsh circles as Jeonghan’s hot digits wrap around one of your nipples, tugging and pinching.

Your body jumps at the dual sensations, the feelings quickly becoming too much when paired with the sheer fullness you feel on both ends and in every fiber of your being. You feel yourself start to twitch harder, your hands still on Jeonghan’s thighs gripping him tighter as your nails dig into his skin. He hisses above you, all of you hearing the ding from your phone across the room which can only mean Sooyoung is on her way home.

The thought only lingers for a moment before Mingyu gives you a thrust that is just the perfect amount of pressure against your sensitive walls to have your back arching, a yell of what sounds like his name garbles out of you around Jeonghan’s length. The vibrations from your sounds are like a switch for Jeonghan, his body reacting immediately to yours and the way you swallow him almost all the way down as you cry out and cum.

He snaps his hips once more before he’s releasing, cumming down your throat then pulling out, some of his release spurting onto your lips, chin, and neck. You don’t even seem to notice, your eyes open but your attention elsewhere as Mingyu continues bullying his cock into your hypersensitive pussy.

Mingyu cums last, pulling out of your messy folds with a whine. He strokes himself once, twice, and then he’s cumming hard, his release spurting onto your thighs, painting your sweaty skin in white warmth.

The three of you slump in silence, breathing heavily as you clear your heads and get a grip. You feel something prodding your leg and with a heavy head, you manage to lift far enough to see Mingyu rubbing his softening length in the mess he made on your thigh. Clearing your throat to get his attention, he snaps his eyes up to you and stops, smiling sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he coughs. “It’s just…that was so fucking hot,” he repeats again and you can’t help but nod.

“Yeah,” you croak, making both of the men snicker at you. You reach a hand back weakly to swat at Jeonghan who dodges your half-assed attack.

“Here, let's get you cleaned up while we have time,” he says, glancing at the timer above the oven. Your cupcakes have ten minutes left and if he had to estimate, it would take that time plus a little longer before his sister gets home. He and Mingyu both help you sit up with Mingyu grabbing your hands to pull and Jeonghan cradling your head and neck to lift you up. Your joints groan in protest, but you manage to sit up.

Jeonghan moves to grab a paper towel, wetting it with warm water before he’s in front of you, wiping his drying spunk off of your face. Mingyu does the same, and cleans up what’s dried on your thigh.

“Ugh, I feel like I have to take a shower,” you sigh, aware of the uncomfortable sensation on the rest of your skin. Dried spit from both men along with remnants of the now useless pink frosting still smatter over you and you crinkle your nose.

“If you want, you can take a shower and I’ll keep an eye on the oven,” Jeonghan offers as he and Mingyu help you stand on shaky legs. The two of them gather their pants and your clothes as you lean against the counter slowly regaining strength in your body.

“Taking a random shower doesn’t seem suspicious to you?” you question, raising an eyebrow as you gesture to your phone, which Mingyu grabs to hand to you.

“If Sooyoung gets home, we can just say you got stuff on your clothes and you had to shower. I have extra clothes on me you can wear when you get out.” Mingyu offers.

“Yeah, and we’ll even throw your clothes in the washer real quick and she’ll never know!” Jeonghan looks around the kitchen before grabbing the now infamous bowl of strawberry frosting. He stares at it hard before eyeing the kitchen floor and tossing the bowl with enough force to shatter when it hits the floor.

“Jeonghan, what the fuck?!” you scream, flinching at the sound of glass breaking.

“I’ll tell her I knocked the bowl over, it broke, got all over you and now you’re showering. Plus, the frosting was dirty anyway now,” he shrugs, a smile playing on the corners of his lips. Part of you is annoyed at the prospect of having to put more work in to recreate the frosting which was the only part of the whole baking process that turned out successful. “When you’re out, Gyu and I will even help you guys so you’re done quicker.” At his suggestion, you quirk an eyebrow at him. “Okay, well mostly Gyu will help, but I’ll help clean up and do little shit or whatever, okay?”

“Deal,” you decide finally, glancing at your phone. Sooyoung will likely be more than halfway home at this point so you don’t have time to think of another plan.

The three of you split up then. You head for the bathroom to shower while Mingyu starts to clean up the bowl and the frosting from the floor. Jeonghan takes your clothes to the washing machine to start the load, then grabs some clothes from Mingyu’s overnight bag in his room for you to change into.

By the time you’re clean, washed, and in Mingyu’s oversized shorts and t-shirt, you can hear Sooyoung in the kitchen.

When you round the corner into the kitchen, three sets of eyes fix on you and Sooyoung rushes over to you. “Y/n, are you okay?! These two morons told me what they did!”

“Yeah, I’m okay. No injuries to report.” You give her a small smile, ignoring the wiggle of Jeonghan’s eyebrows behind her.

“Good. I feel so bad. If you want you don’t have to help anymore. I’ve already taken up your Sunday and forced you over here to work for free and now my idiot brother has ruined your clothes.”

“I’m literally right here,” Jeoghan reminds his sister as he finishes laying out the groceries she brought home.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Sooyoung grumps, rolling her eyes.

“No, really it’s okay. I’m happy to help and besides, you didn’t ruin my Sunday at all, I promise!” She has no idea how true that statement is, but you manage to reassure her and she eventually nods, believing you, but still saying you can leave at any time.

You set to work helping her begin the batch of chocolate cupcakes as she works on making more strawberry frosting. You truly don’t mind helping, especially if that means you get to share sneaky glances and secret touches with Jeonghan. Today has been anything but a lazy Sunday, but you can’t say you mind too much.

[goldenlionprince]

In Good Hands

I initially wrote this for @neverenoughmarauders in @sorenphelps The Bodyguard AU because we talked about James' knee injury and the possibility of massages - but I kind of like how it turned out so I post it here too ;)

It's set somewhere in the days after the smut thing I wrote. They have a few days where they fuck like horny bunnies before Peter interrupts their little bubble of bliss xD

So this one is a little bit smutty again. -- tag for @lovelymasks

.

The knee is starting to become a problem. It's not horrible, not yet, James vividly remembers the pain of the not so distant past so it's very endurable compared to when the knee wound was fresh, but still it's uncomfortable.

Maybe the run wasn't that great of an idea. Or running up the stairs.

James refuses to blame it on any other activities. Even if there had been a good few of those.

James stretches out his leg and tries to get a little more comfortable with slight adjustments but Sirius, of course, notices James' discomfort immediately because there is barely anything that slips through his attention. James had really tried in their early days with only medium success.

“Are you okay?” Sirius asks, trailing fingertips along James' spine. “Was the last round a bit too rough for you?”

James can't help but laugh. Of course Sirius' thoughts go there immediately. “Don't worry, Star Boy, you're a pain in my butt but not in that way. It's just my knee being a little stupid.”

“Star Boy?” Sirius chuckles softly. “That's a new one.”

“Can't call you Soldier Boy in bed, can I? Although I have to say you're pretty good at coming to attention.”

“You're a menace,” Sirius says and it comes out a little fond. James would smile like a lovesick idiot but Sirius' words are immediately followed by a bite to where James' neck meets his shoulder and that smile melts into a soft moan instead. “Stay here,” Sirius orders and then he's off the bed and James feels cheated by his distraction techniques.

With a huff, James flops back into the pillows and brushes his messy curls out of his face. They are even more of a disaster than usual.

He doesn't have to wait long for Sirius' return. James is almost tempted to grab his glasses to see Sirius in his full glory again but ultimately decides against them. He won't need them for long anyway and he'll have time for more ogling later.

“Move over a little,” Sirius says and James complies, moving a little more to the middle of the bed to give Sirius some space. Sirius sits down next to him and pops the cap of a bottle that James only notices now.

“What's that?”

“Oil,” Sirius says simply and gets some on his hand before tossing the closed bottle aside. “Give me your leg.”

With a frown, James extends his hurt leg. Sirius takes it between his hands and –

James should have already known that Sirius' fingers can do magic but god, this is a new level. He has no idea if he wants to whimper or moan, curse or beg for more. It's torture and bliss all wrapped into one. White hot pain in some places followed by a tingly sensation that goes straight to James' dick.

He's probably babbling something incoherent, James isn't entirely sure because he's too wrapped up in that sudden assault of too much sensation.

Sirius, the bastard, knows exactly what he's doing. He's chuckling as he squeezes and kneads James through that blissful torture, his fingers slowly moving higher on the inside of James' thigh and James wants them somewhere else, wants them inside of him so bad.

He's not above begging.

“Please,” he pants, head thrown back on his pillow, hands buried in the bedsheets. It should be impossible for someone well above their teenage years to be so ready for another round of sex so soon after they just finished one but gods, James is ready.

He's almost inhaling his tongue when Sirius' oil slick fingers brush along where James wants them the most. He's prepared for more teasing – Sirius loves a good torture – but thankfully he has mercy with James right now. One finger slides in easily, quickly followed by a second, and that turns out to be a whole new torture on it's own since it's good but not nearly enough.

“We should probably keep your leg elevated,” Sirius says and moves closer, pulling his fingers free as he goes and James almost wants to curse him. But then Sirius grabs both of James' legs and throws them over his shoulders and James forgets all about his curses. “Keep the strain from it for a little while. It might help.”

“I'm sure it will.” James nods and grabs the back of Sirius' neck, pulling him closer and into a hungry kiss.

It will do wonders for his knee, James is absolutely sure of it.

[xylatox]

Another fic from Nina! And a lovely way to round off the Valentine event :))) I'm so looking forward to this fic!

Before I even started I read humour as horror (forgive my brain it loves to misread) and my heart deadass dropped LOL, unti my thoughts though :).

and each time, the quiet whispers of pity behind your back only grew louder. of course, you heard the hushed “shh, don't be so loud” that meant to show care—you had stopped paying attention to it long ago.— this breaks my heart, genuinely but reader is so real to stop pay attention to them. my heart further hurts that reader's soulmate bond feels like a complicated entanglement.

you looked up at soobin—another one of your colleagues, but not annoying one— and pressed your lips into a thin line. “i’m fine. please don’t join them in looking at me like i need pity, i beg you.” — I already love reader's bond with Soobin, like is absolutely adorable.

you shook your head, giving him that ‘are you serious?’ look. “soob, don’t start. you haven’t met them because you either work or play league." — LMFAO Soobin and I are the same, league really does just take up the time yknow.

Yeonjun and reader's first interaction:(( my heart, like—yeonjun froze. he hadn’t thought about it at all. it was almost funny—how he, the one who had that confident, almost intimidating aura, had somehow managed to make himself look like a complete idiot in front of his nice neighbour. not only had he lost his keys, but he also couldn’t think thirty minutes ahead. usually, he didn’t care much about what people thought of him, but he still expected himself to feel ashamed now. but he wasn’t. somehow, it felt like you wouldn’t see him that way—probably because you were just as awkward.— this has me smiling like an absolute idiot. Their banter is also super cute :( like eventhough they just met it's so casual yknow :((

he made a face, which was ten times funnier with his stuffed cheeks. “absolutely no,” yeonjun announced as he finally managed to swallow. “like, absolutely. you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. you just shrugged, your face sly, and he made an expression of pure horror. “don’t tell me—i can’t believe i’m living next door to a psychopath! were you lulling my vigilance for the past hours just to hit me with this news?”— justice for people who love pineapple on pizza 😞. Again to say, Nina, I absolutely love the way you managed to flow the conversation so easily.

you scrunched your nose. “nope. but don’t tell me it’s a yes from you,” you warned jokingly and he smirked in response. “and you dared to call me a psychopath?! you? a mint chocolate ice cream lover?” it was getting harder and harder to keep your laugh inside, especially as he kept on laughing himself, but you tried to do your best. “i’ll be much more careful while leaving home now.”— and justice for the mint choco icecream lovers too :(((

it felt like he was everywhere, coating every inch of your body; pain, just like honey, glazing every nerve—you could feel him tugging your hair, fist firm against the back of your head, could feel his fingertips sinking into the flesh of your thighs, craving to leave marks on you—you prayed they did—and his nails digging into your skin as he ran his hand down, leaving trails along your legs—just as burning and sweet as melted chocolate.— this is so absolutely insane oh my goodness. The entire dream was so insane?????screaming??? AND THE FACT THAT YEONJUN WENT THROUGG THE SAME THING?????? Oh. my. god.

The nickname for reader is so cute????I'm going to throw up. I love that Jun was able to free up his time for reader too, like thats so cute.

“baby,” he whispered, trying to lift your arms, but you only tried to wrap them around him, desperate for even a bit of his warmth. “we need to lower your temperature. please, let me take this off.”—I'm going to scream oh my god.

The way he took care of her, their marks, I'm so soft and :((.

This is the end if part 1, unto the next hehe :)) Nina, your writing is amazing.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ♡ . ⠀wild roses | chapter 1 ; the roots

⠀⠀⠀neighbour!yeonjun x fem!reader

♡ you're here ♡ | to chapter 2 →

genre ; soulmate au, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, humour, smut            wordcount ; 17.5k

warnings | tags ; unhealthy relationship with pain [mentions of self-inflicted pain]; yeonjun does some kinda questionable stuff; a bit of self-hate and self-pity.

smut warnings ; dom + soft sadist yeonjun x sub + soft masochist reader. wet dreams, heavily based on pain kink [choking, marking, spanking and so on]; male masturbation.

✉ notes ; oh wow... my first collaboration event ever and it was AWESOME. the idea was just incredible and i'm honoured to be a part of the event and write for the idea. i want to thank each one of beautiful talented moa who took part in the event, please-please-please, read other event fics, all of them are wonderful

i got a tiny bit carried away, so there are going to be two more parts. that just... happened. i was possesed

⠀⠀⠀[ event masterlist | my masterlist | wild roses masterlist ]

it felt like a cruel joke of fate, destiny, the universe or whatever force might be pulling the strings of your life. you were sure you could post an advertisement for your services—“spend a few days with me and find your soulmate. 100% guarantee”, because yet another one of your colleagues had returned from her vacation particularly glowing—she had met her, her soulmate, the one she had been waiting for her whole life. 

she couldn't keep quiet about it, and you couldn't blame her, despite the tiny, bitter part of your mind whispering that you were a lucky charm for everyone else, leaving yourself with nothing but emptiness and heartbreak. you'd only been working here for a year, and four of your colleagues had found their soulmates before your very eyes—five, including the one who had announced it today—and each time, the quiet whispers of pity behind your back only grew louder. of course, you heard the hushed “shh, don't be so loud” that meant to show care—you had stopped paying attention to it long ago. 

the bond you had once shared with your soulmate was a complicated one, tangled in endless conditions and rules, most of them uncertain, suspended between truth and myth. it had already felt impossible to navigate it, while you still had it, but now, when it was broken for years, finding them felt like a distant dream. you weren't even sure if they were still alive, if you were being honest, but thinking about it unsettled you to the point of near-physical pain, so you chose not to think about them at all.

your mind sometimes thought differently, though, keeping you awake until early morning and haunting you with visions of you staying alone until your last days. on those days you’d find yourself deleting your browser history in shame and embarrassment on your way to work—“would you know if your soulmate had died”, “is it possible to get another soulmate”, “is it possible to have more than one soulmate”, “wild rose bond”. you hated those nights and the days that followed, because your brain wouldn't stop overanalyzing everything you'd read, twisting every possibility into something even more unbearable—hope. 

but more than anything, you feared returning to the dark months after you had felt your soulmate for the last time. looking back, you wondered if their heartbreak had somehow resonated with your own—the one that had started just a few hours before. you had felt a faint sensation of nails dragging down your back from your shoulder blades, as if someone was scratching at your skin with their nails, but it wasn't your back, it was their back. you had thought you were devastated then, but a few hours later, when the real weight of it hit, you felt like you couldn't breathe anymore, and it wasn't your pain.

all of it plunged you into what was probably the darkest period of your life, making you realize how truly ugly your bond was, because it was either an endless cycle of intensifying pain—feeding off your soulmate’s suffering and giving it right back to them until it returned to you—or nothing at all. and when you woke up empty, feeling nothing foreign that had become an important part of you over the years, it was as if you had lost the constant touch of a lover. even if that touch had only ever caused pain, you still tried to get it back. 

you didn't know if you were trying to get your soulmate to respond to you, or if, in some twisted way, you were just to mimic the pain they had once caused you—desperate for anything that might keep you from feeling so utterly alone. but it never worked—they never replied and you never felt any relief. 

and now you felt yourself slowly sinking into that darkness again—the more happy stories told behind your back you heard, the stronger the itch in your fingers became. what if—just a tiny what if—they would reply to you if you pinched your arm just a little? what if they pinched back? what if you could finally do something you had wished for years you had done earlier—agree to meet somewhere through morse code? the sickening feeling of hope was so much worse than that mutual heartbreak had ever been. 

you shook your head—no. the “unbreakable bond” that was supposed to never fade—not by time, not even by death—was broken, and the was nothing you could do about it. maybe some people were simply meant to stay alone, and maybe you were one of them. so what? surely, you weren't the only unlucky one like that, there was no way everyone in this world had a person they were destined to live and die with. after all, you could be your own soulmate—at least that bond would never shatter.

the overly confident thoughts, which felt more like bravado than anything sincere even to you, took up all your attention, and you reached out for your coffee cup, completely forgetting it was still too hot. the burn on the pads of your fingers made you wince, a quiet "shit" slipping past your lips—all these existential crisis thoughts, that were creeping in more and more often recently, were making you a bit too careless, and that was a dangerous match to the way you were starting to perceive pain. again.

“you okay?”

you looked up at soobin—another one of your colleagues, but not annoying one— and pressed your lips into a thin line. “i’m fine. please don’t join them in looking at me like i need pity, i beg you.”

he smiled and shook his head. “wasn’t going to. you’re overthinking it, you know?” he glanced over your shoulder at the suddenly quiet, happy circle before returning his gaze to you. “well… you’re overthinking my behavior, i guess…”

you sighed—of course. “they’re looking, aren’t they?” he replied with a tiny nod, making you bury your face in your hands. “with pity?” you mumbled, your words muffled.

“yeah…” he admitted, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. he wasn’t one to enjoy much attention, but sitting across from you left him no choice when their conversations inevitably turned to soulmates. “hey,” he tried to get your attention, holding out his paper cup to you over both of your monitors. “it’s the same as yours, but not as hot anymore. haven’t drunk it either.”

the man was a savior sometimes. you took his cup, giving him yours. “thanks. what would i do without you?”

“drown in pity gazes and whispers?”

you laughed. “most probably.”

he smiled at you, glad that your face was no longer painted with ridiculously funny determination he knew you faked—trying to make yourself believe it—and got back to work, mirroring you.

but you had trouble focusing on your work anyway, and the worst part was your boss, who kept throwing worried glances at you whenever he passed by—it felt like a few more found soulmates in your branch, and he'd start asking if you wanted to take a day off or work from home for a few days whenever someone said. after all, whenever someone announced—because it was impossible to keep it inside—that they had found their soulmate, he always reacted the same way.

you already had the ick from the word—soulmates this, soulmates that. all those “don't worry, you're still young” reassurances coming from people you had met maybe three times in your life while making yourself a coffee in the office kitchen. it wasn't even about your age—though there were countless depressing myths about soulmates and age, especially when it came to wild roses—it was about the nature of the bond itself that made people pity you.

you had no idea why in the world they cared about their colleague—nothing more!—finding or not finding their soulmate. and worse, you'd never told anyone about your lack of one, nor about what kind of bond you had. yet, somehow, someone must have seen your mark—which wasn't too hard to notice, but the situation had to be very specific for anyone to actually see it—and now people knew about it before they had even met you, the rumours about you entering the room first. 

as if that wasn’t bad enough, at some point, they started matchmaking you with any soulmate-less new colleague. you were still sure those glances at you interacting with soobin meant something, just because he didn’t have a soulmate either. it was funny how they barely cared that he wasn't a wild rose—and you didn't even question how they never seemed to care about what the two of you actually thought of it, just being two introverts in an office full of extroverts. 

but soobin was nice enough not to care about it and was basically the only person here you talked to about something other than work, and you were thankful he was there for you without trying to assure you that you were still young and that your soulmate was still out there somewhere. he knew everything that had happened around your bond and understood that wild roses didn’t have it easy, so he never bothered you by feeding the hope you kept buried deep inside. 

“you know…” soobin started while you two were packing up to go home—you both started your workdays half an hour later than everyone else, meaning you stayed half an hour after everyone left, which was basically the reason for shifting your work hours in the first place. “i haven’t met my soulmate either, and…”

you shook your head, giving him that ‘are you serious?’ look. “soob, don’t start. you haven’t met them because you either work or play league.”

soobin laughed, nodding. “you’re right. but i just wanted to say that soulmate or no soulmate, it doesn’t define you—or anyone—as a person,” he smiled reassuringly, grabbing both of your jackets and handing you yours. “you’re perfectly complete without someone who was chosen for you by something unknown.”

you nodded, biting your lip and fidgeting with the pull on your jacket. he always knew what to say, and it was always sincere—probably, because he was in the same situation as you, but with a completely different perspective on it. soobin seemed much more mature than you could even hope to be. no—you pushed these thoughts away. you weren’t going to pity yourself. he was right—it made no sense. 

“thanks, soob. you always know the right words.”

he smiled. “i could say i’ve been there, but i think they bother me much less about not having a soulmate,” he scratched the back of his head in thought. “male advantage?” he assumed, and you both laughed—maybe it really was male advantage. “keep you company on your way home?”

you shook your head, checking the time. “you won’t be home by seven if you do,” you patted his shoulder, and he tilted his head in question. “it’s thursday. your league-i-promise-she-is-just-a-friend will be waiting for you,” you sing-songed, making him press his lips together in an attempt to hide his smile—a failing attempt—and you couldn’t help but mirror it.

soobin opened his mouth to tell you something, but it seemed like every thought he had about his “just friend” only made his smile grow bigger and harder to hide, so in the end he just shook his head with a shy but obviously happy smile. “okay. you sure you'll be fine?”

you nodded, giving him a quick goodbye hug. “completely. be safe too. and don't stay up too late!” you waved before turning around. soobin was a nice guy and deserved all the happiness in the world—you hoped things with his “just friend” would work out, whether she was his soulmate or not.

still, your head felt like a too-crowded beehive, a dozen thoughts overlapping each other, refusing to let you focus on any of them before stealing your attention away to another. you had a bond when you were younger. yes, now it was a distant memory that felt more like a dream—you weren’t even sure you would recall how it felt to experience someone else’s pain or discomfort, but you refused to believe you’d been imagining it for almost ten years of your life, ever since you first understood that some feelings weren’t caused by yourself.

and that connection… it was supposed to be unbreakable, because it was one of the strongest bonds between soulmates—it was based on pain. you could never stop experiencing it, even if it happened rarely, you would still burn your tongue on tea from time to time or hit your elbow in just that spot, and your soulmate would feel it, just as you would feel their pain—there was no way to break it. that’s what you thought, at least—before it was broken. 

these thoughts kept looping in your head, all the information you had read about the bond between wild roses throughout your life swirling in your mind, as if you hadn’t already gone over it hundreds of times, trying to find something you had overlooked—something that could solve the problem you had. but that kind of connection was surrounded by chaos of myths, assumptions, and lies from people pretending to be wild roses. you could never know what was true unless you experienced it yourself and, preferably, discussed it with the other end of the bond. 

and you weren’t even sure of what you had gone through yourself, because you had no idea what your soulmate had done for you to mirror their pain more intensely. it was believed that the strength of the pain you felt from your soulmate grew with distance, and you assumed that, a few years before the heartbreak and the breaking of your connection, they had moved far away from where you were—probably another side of the world. the faint touch of guitar strings on the tips of your fingers had become cruel, invisible marks and calluses, awakening a habit of scratching the pads of your fingers with your nails, trying to get rid of the sensation. the habit stayed—but because you missed the way it felt now. 

the quiet ding of the elevator pulled you out of your thoughts, even through your earbuds. you opened the case, carefully placing each one inside while waiting for the doors to open, and your soul almost left your body when they did, hand flying to your chest to calm your racing heart—a man was sitting on the floor, headphones on his head, too immersed in something on his phone to notice you.

you knew the man—he was your neighbour, but you had never really talked to him, so you weren’t exactly sure how to get his attention, especially since he was wearing headphones. so you stood in front of him like a complete weirdo, looking down at him, your brain still not fully functioning after a busy workday that was made worse by your overthinking. 

but you didn’t have to do anything—he noticed you almost immediately, looking up and quickly standing, pushing his headphones down to his neck. “oh! hey. don’t be freaked out, please,” he said, holding out his hand for a handshake. you hesitantly took it, shaking uncertainly—his hand felt… nice. “i’m your neighbour from—”

“apartment 139, yeah…,” you finished for him slowly, your hand still in his, now just held. “just across the hall. i see you sometimes, but you never greet back, always wearing headphones,” you shrugged—it wasn’t a big deal. he never seemed rude, more like he was always in his head, his hands and head making little weird moves, so you assumed he was dancing to the music in his headphones, the outside world forgotten.  

“oh…” he pulled his hand away and ran his fingers through his hair. “i’m sorry. i tend to get too into my work sometimes, not noticing anything or anyone around.”

you shrugged again, pulling your keys from your pocket, the bunch of keychains jingling softly. “it’s fine. just be careful on the streets. sometimes drivers are…” you scrunched your nose, and he chuckled. “reckless? some make me wonder if anyone can just go and buy a driver’s license now, without even graduating from elementary school, where they give you basic knowledge on traffic rules.” 

he looked at you with an amused smile, and you mentally slapped yourself—it was your first conversation, and you were already burdening him with the grumpiness of a ninety-year-old lady no one liked. no wonder your soulmate had broken the bond even before meeting you, the thought made you smile mentally despite how bitter it actually was—it was a good joke. you made a note to repeat it to soobin tomorrow when telling him about encountering your neighbour. 

but he only laughed, nodding a few times. “i see where you’re coming from. you can never be too careful when it comes to traffic,” he adjusted his headphones, turning them to rest on his collarbones with the ear pads facing in, and your gaze fell to the bare skin of his upper chest for a brief moment, making you involuntarily touch the tight collar of your t-shirt. 

“so…” you fidgeted with the strap of your bag nervously—small talk was nice and, dare you to say, comfortable, especially considering you'd never talked to him before, but he couldn't be sitting here for no reason, could he? “what happened?.. i mean, why were you sitting here?”

“oh! right,” he cleared throat. “i lost my keys. i was going to call for locksmith services, but i don't want to lockpick the door to the corridor,” he paused, because it suddenly started sounding stupid, but shook his head—too late to rethink it now. “so i was waiting for someone to open it.”

you nodded a few times, and he let out a breath—at least you weren't looking at him like he was a complete idiot, and he certainly felt like one. you simply took the key and opened the door to the corridor, letting him in before locking it behind you—he thought that he probably should've been nicer to you instead of just giving a tiny nod as a greeting once every few weeks, which, as it turned out, you didn’t even notice. 

he dialed the locksmith service, throwing glances at you as you unlocked your door. he noticed you pause, your key still in the lock, fingers rubbing it nervously as you stared at it, seemingly lost in thought. he wanted to ask you if everything was okay, but the moment he opened his mouth, a man on the other end of the phone line introduced himself and asked how he could help. 

you glanced at your neighbour as he turned away, still on his phone, his hand rubbing the back of his head. eavesdropping wasn’t good, but you wondered—if the locksmith was going to take some time to arrive, maybe he’d need a place to wait? you could invite him in… he seemed like a nice person, so— you shook your head, he’d probably prefer to wait at the convenience store across the street. with that, you pulled the key out and opened the door. 

“at least half an hour?” he asked, checking the watch before chuckled. “of course. not like i have any other choice,” he listened to whatever the person on the other end was saying before nodding. “yes, five minutes is fine. thank you,” the ‘beep’ of the ended call was almost loud in the empty corridor as he turned to look at you, still standing by your ajar door. “thank you. really,” he smiled warmly. “i’m yeonjun, by the way. it was nice to meet you.”

“[ yn ]...” you replied quietly, still debating whether you should invite him in—half an hour seemed long, but then again, sometimes waiting for an elevator to arrive could take five whole minutes. if he was unlucky, he’d only have time to buy something at the convenience store before having to come right back. no, you thought. don’t be stupid. “it was nice to meet you too,” you almost shut your front door when you realized how much of an idiot you were—just a few minutes ago you basically locked him in the corridor. “wait.”

“huh?” yeonjun looked up from his phone, confused. ‘wait’ for what?.. not like he had anywhere to go right now.

you grabbed the spare key to the corridor door from the key rack and walked up to him, holding it out. “here. you lost yours, and i have a spare one, so you can take it,” you felt so stupid, but it was too late to back out now. “for now or til you get a new one or… or you can keep it,” you finished quietly, each word sounding worse than the last.

yeonjun smiled and shook his head. “i have another one at home, don’t worry. i won’t need it until then anyway, i was going to wait here.” 

you pressed your lips together, cheeks burning, before asking quietly. “how would a locksmith get inside here?..” 

yeonjun froze. he hadn’t thought about it at all. it was almost funny—how he, the one who had that confident, almost intimidating aura, had somehow managed to make himself look like a complete idiot in front of his nice neighbour. not only had he lost his keys, but he also couldn’t think thirty minutes ahead. usually, he didn’t care much about what people thought of him, but he still expected himself to feel ashamed now. but he wasn’t. somehow, it felt like you wouldn’t see him that way—probably because you were just as awkward. 

he took the key from your hand, the little rose keychain getting his attention, as its tiny silver thorns nestled against his skin. yeonjun looked up at you, puzzled—a rose keychain wasn’t strange on its own, he had seen countless of them, but most didn’t have a stem, let alone thorns. he felt his heart skip a beat—the small silver trinket reminded him of a part of himself that he tried to ignore. you only shook your head, though, clearly telling him to not pay any attention to it. but he still didn’t like coincidences like that one. 

you nodded goodbye to him one more time and had already turned away before pausing and biting your lip. “look,” you said before you could stop yourself, turning back to face him. the worst thing that could happen? he would decline, and things between you two would get awkward. but—if you were honest—what things? there were no ‘things’ between you two. you took a deep breath. “you can wait for the locksmith at my place, if you want. it’s warm, and you wouldn’t have to sit on the floor or stand for half an hour. if you want.”

it was inviting. it sounded really nice, actually. yeonjun already felt like his butt was as flat as the floor he’d been sitting on for an hour before you appeared and saved him from what he jokingly thought of as flat-butt disease. but you had just met—neighbours or not—and even though he knew he had no ill intentions, he wasn’t sure you felt the same way. making you feel uncomfortable or, worse, unsafe in your own home was the last thing he wanted. “are you sure it'd be fine? we just learned each other's names a few minutes ago.”

“well…” you frowned and tilted your head—what kind of things was he thinking about? “yes?.. i mean, do you have any… bad intentions?”

yeonjun was taken aback by your question. “um, no?” oh god, pull yourself together, yeonjun! why do you sound so unsure? he cleared his throat and repeated more firmly. “of course, not. but… is that it? you're just going to believe my ‘no’ and let me in?”

you took a few steps toward your door, glad to see him following you. “yep?.. do you really think maniacs would ask in the first place?” you asked him, opening the door and stepping aside to let him in.

yeonjun glanced at you, narrowing his eyes. “do you really think maniacs would just say ‘yeah, of course, i have all the bad intentions in the world’? it sounds…” he tapped his chin, pretending to think. “naïve?”

“yeah? then why would you put these thoughts into my head? sounds like you’re giving me a lesson on how to spot a maniac,” you said, hanging your jacket on the coat rack and pointing at the free hook next to it. yeonjun immediately got the hint and hung his jacket there too, without letting either of you get distracted from the conversation. “so—” you glanced down at his shoes. “i can give you slippers, if you want. brand new. still unpacked even,” you added, waiting for his nod and little ‘thanks’ before continuing. “so. why would one of them do it? give me a lesson on it, i mean.”

yeonjun let out an exaggerated, dramatic sigh. “to lull your vigilance, of course. to make you ask yourself exactly that question and come up with an answer that it doesn't make any sense for a maniac to explain things like that, so it can only mean that this person isn't one,” he ‘explained’, waiting for you to take your shoes off and walk further into the apartment before crouching down to untie his sneakers—he didn’t want to risk making you feel uncomfortable, like he was looking up your skirt. 

“ah, really?” you held the slippers out to him. “why would you—or maniac—tell me that, then? why give further explanation?” you asked, waiting for him to put the slippers on and grab his bag before leading him toward the kitchen. you were enjoying this conversation a lot. maybe even a bit too much, but who cared? “no, no, no, let me answer it myself. to lull my vigilance?”

“exactly!” yeonjun sat down on the bar stool, his smile wide—not because you got something ‘right’ in that silly little banter, but because it felt so comfortable. he couldn't believe you two had never talked before, given how easy it seemed for both of you. “the same thing, but a bit more layered.”

“wow, you seem like a really thought-out maniac, yeonjun. just piling on layers to lull my vigilance,” you sighed in exaggerated awe, pressing a hand to your chest with a little bow of your head. “it's an honour.”

“well,” he shrugged nonchalantly, straightening his back in mock pride. “just doing my best at everything, you know?” 

you let out a laugh, covering your mouth with your hand. he was… cute. funny too, and so easy to talk to—it felt like you had known him your whole life but had just forgotten. it wasn't unusual for you to get loud or talkative, but you usually needed more time to get used to someone before feeling comfortable enough to do so—much more time. but it wasn't like that with yeonjun; he made you feel at ease around him almost immediately. you assumed it was his confident aura that didn't waver even when he was being playful or silly. that level of confidence, unspoiled by arrogance, was truly admirable.

you bit your lip, though—you weren't sure how to reply, but you gaze fell on the coffee machine. “do you want something to drink, by the way?..” you asked, washing your hands in the kitchen sink. “i don't actually have too many bottled drinks, but i have a coffee machine, ice and a bunch of syrups, or i can make you tea.”

it actually sounded tempting. yeonjun still had a bit of his coffee when he left the elevator on this floor and realized he had lost his keys, but that was long gone. he hadn’t risked leaving the spot to buy something to drink, afraid someone would come home while he was away, so now he was pretty much thirsty. but he wasn’t sure if he preferred burdening you over just waiting for half an hour, so he shook his head. 

“no, thank you. but… do you mind if i wash my hands?” yeonjun asked, getting up and rubbing his palms on his jeans. and then what? what was he going to do when he came back after washing his hands? he wasn't socially awkward, but staying with a barely-not-a-stranger in a small space with no one else around—and no alcohol to loosen the atmosphere? he should've just agreed to the coffee to make things a bit less awkward for both of you—he doubted you'd eat or drink something while he was just sitting there. was it too late to say he'd changed his mind?

“oh! kitchen sink or…” you walked out of the kitchen and he followed you, standing next to the kitchen door in the hall. you pointed at a door. “the bathroom is the only door to the right. a small gray towel on the towel rail is for hands, and…” you turned your head to look at him, still leaning on the door frame with the front of your shoulder. “i can bring you another towel if you want to rinse your face or anything. it was washed and dried that morning, so you can be sure it wasn't used.”

yeonjun blinked a few times, looking at you, his mind completely blank—he couldn't even find the words to describe how… adorably weird everything you were doing and saying was. why would you ask him if he wanted to wash his face? it was fine and clean—he had checked in the mirror by the door when he entered out of habit—but you were still unbelievably nice, offering another towel in case he wanted to do it. it felt like the thoughts in your head were completely random, yet it was interesting that you weren't afraid to say them out loud. 

“no, thanks. just hands,” yeonjun said, giving you a small smile before following the direction you had pointed to.

you watched him shut the door before turning back to the kitchen—it wasn't that you felt like you had to keep an eye on him, making sure he didn't wander somewhere he wasn’t supposed to, it was just somehow he already occupied your thoughts, and you only snapped out of it when he disappeared behind the door. but as you sat at the bar table, your overthinking started again. everything was… weird. good, but still weird. you’d never met someone you clicked with this quickly, and it felt almost… suspicious.

you threw a glance toward the bathroom as if you could see through walls, before shaking your head—you had been overthinking too much lately. if you were honest, you always did. maybe it was time to stop thinking and just… be? just accept that you had met someone you felt comfortable with immediately, without questioning it? making new friends—ever heard of it? you thought. yep. it was time to just live your life without looking back at any soulmate issues—past, present, or future.

yeonjun found you with a strangely determined expression on your face and chuckled to himself. he liked that you were like an ajar book—not fully open yet, but easy enough for him to read at least your basic emotion, and it also seemed like you weren’t trying too hard to hide them either. he thought that maybe he should be just as honest.

he cleared his throat, getting your attention. “i know i said no,” he started when you looked up at him, all your focus on him immediately, “but i think i’d actually like something to drink,” yeonjun admitted, watching you standing up immediately to start preparing something, but he was quick to reassure you. “water would be fine, though.”

you paused, hand on the cupboard, looking at him. “water would be ‘fine’ or ‘preferred’?..” you asked, unsure if it sounded too blunt—you didn’t want to sound pushy or impolite, but you could make him something specific, if he wanted. it wasn’t a problem. 

yeonjun hesitated, but admitted nevertheless. “to be honest, i wouldn't say no to some tea. i guess it's a bit too late for an americano,” he smiled warmly, sitting back where he was sitting before, his eyes following your movements. 

he was surprised to see how excited you got, reaching for a box on the top shelf, standing on your tiptoes, the tips of your fingers trying to grab it. he had to almost force himself to stay where he was, resisting the urge to rush over and help you—the scene inside his head immediately played out in slow motion, filmed in third-person with a random lyrical song and that weird corner-whitening effect they always used in dramas for moments like this. he cringed at the thought.

yeonjun still kept an eye on you in case you asked for help or needed it if everything started tumbling down, but you successfully won that round against heights and gravity, placing the now-open box in front of him. it was filled with different colourful foil bags—he was sure anyone would find something they liked here.

“you can choose any you want,” you said, grabbing the kettle to fill it with water the moment he nodded and started going through the box. you turned the kettle on and were about to sit back down when you suddenly realized you were still wearing your office clothes. “do you mind if i go change?..” you asked hesitantly, but yeonjun only nodded.

“of course. i promise to behave,” he lifted his hands in mock surrender, smiling—and making you smile back—before you disappeared around the corner, and he returned to choosing tea, wondering which one both of you would like. 

you tried to change quickly, not wanting to make yeonjun wait, but you froze the moment your gaze fell on your reflection—the t-shirt you were about to put on still in your hands. a huge mark, resembling a thorned rose stem, stretched from your left collarbone down to your right ribs, crossing your chest in a jagged line, and stood out even in the dim light of your bedroom. 

involuntarily, you pressed your fingers to the top thorn, right under your collarbone, as if expecting to feel it pierce the skin of your fingertips. it didn't, though—of course, it didn't—the skin felt the same as the rest, smooth and unbroken. if you didn't look at it, you wouldn't even realize it was there—you wished it was that way. ut no, you knew every detail of it. you knew the exact placement of each thorn, each uneven ridge in the stem. you knew where it started and where it ended. you could draw it with your eyes closed and get every millimeter right. 

the way you tugged the t-shirt on was almost harsh, the tight collar scratching your nose slightly on its way down—you just wanted to hide that reminder as soon as possible, even though you knew you couldn't keep running from it forever. one day, you would have to accept it as part of you—which it was—and stop seeing it as a reminder of your broken future, misfortune, and a cruel fate. but not today. maybe, one day, your view on it would change naturally, when the way you saw soulmates did?..

but for now, you would opt for t-shirts with tight collars and turtlenecks, whenever someone else might see you. alone? crop tops and tank tops were fine—if you tried to avoid looking at the mark—but not in public, and not in front of someone you barely knew. for many other reasons too, of course. 

when you entered the kitchen again, yeonjun was almost done choosing the last kind of tea—he grabbed the foil package from the box and placed it on the table next to six others. he turned to you, a bit surprised at your precise timing, and gestured toward the table. “i chose the ones i’d like to try. the final choice is yours,” he said with a smile, leaning his back on the wall and watching you. 

his choices were great. at first, you thought about suggesting that each of you make tea in your own cup to avoid drinking something you didn’t like, but all seven options were good, so you could actually brew tea in the teapot for both of you. 

you took two packages and placed it closer to him. “one of these. i can't choose,” you said, turning to the kitchen counter to grab the teapot and pour hot water into it, bringing it to the table along with two cups. yeonjun handed you the tea bag that he had chosen, and you dropped it into the teapot, waiting for the tea to brew.

as yeonjun busied himself putting the packages back into the box, the kitchen fell into silence. it wasn't the tense, uncomfortable kind of silence you might expect—it was a soft one, where both of you seemed to be lost in thoughts without worrying about getting silently judged for not supporting some awkward small talk. it felt like either of you could start or continue a conversation easily whenever you wanted, so there was no need in trying to fill the air with meaningless, forced words.

you were already sipping your tea, when yeonjun's voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “there’s a lot of handmade stuff,” he noted, looking at the wall to the side of you. you followed his gaze and nodded, waiting for him to continue. “a great variety too. sewing, collages, patchwork, crocheting, pressed flowers, diamond mosaic… have you done all of that?”

you nodded, taking another tiny sip—your tea was still too hot. “yep. all of these were done by me,” you said, glancing over the countless little handmade things scattered all over the wall, and it felt like you lwere looking at them from a completely different perspective than before. “but i do none of these seriously. it was… some kind of attempt to find myself,” you admitted. a failed one, you added mentally. none of these felt completely you. 

“successful?” yeonjun asked, his gaze fixed on a small patchwork of a rose, the only rose work out of a dozen—it would’ve been almost cute with the pale pink flower, some parts not sewn to the canvas, giving it some volume, but, just like the keychain, this one had thorns, carefully stitched onto the dark green stem. he lifted his hand to touch them almost unintentionally, but stopped, glancing at you.

“you can touch,” you said, and he gently pressed his finger to the top thorn of the rose, making your heart skip a beat. the stem was a smaller version of the mark you had on your chest—you made it in hope it would help with accepting your hopeless soulmate situation—and it felt strange, seeing how gently and cautiously yeonjun's fingers caressed it exactly where your own fingers had been not so long ago. you shook these thoughts away, though—close stitches were just nice to touch. “but no. not successful, as you can see in variety,” you chuckled.

yeonjun hummed—your works looked neat, at least in the eyes of someone who only knew the names of some of them, so if these were some of your first works of every kind… you were impressive. “do you like roses?” he blurted out and immediately realized the question made no sense—your apartment wasn’t full of roses, he had focused on only two things just because of his own issues.

but you simply shook your head and let out a tiny, sincere laugh. “i don’t. hate them, actually,” you admitted, making him nod in acknowledgement. “i know it makes no sense that i made that one—” you threw a glance at the patchwork he had been paying so much attention to. 

“no, it’s fine,” yeonjun interrupted. “i can see why you’d want to make it despite disliking roses. the picture itself is beautiful,” he said. he used to hate roses too, but he’d learned to only hate one. he caressed the length of the stem one last time, not noticing the way you swallowed thickly at his words and movements, eyes glued to his finger. he turned to you with a smile. “i have a silly question, but i assume you cross-stitched too, and i’ve always been curious about something.”

the speed with which yeonjun switched topics almost gave you whiplash, but you tried to compose yourself. “uh, yes. yes, when i was a child. not a too enjoyable activity for me, but i did.” 

he tapped the pad of his finger with his nail as if imitating a needle. “do people often pierce themselves while cross-stitching?” 

you tilted your head—the question wasn’t exactly weird, but it was unexpected. “i don’t think so?..” you weren’t completely sure, since you’d never really discussed it with anyone—you’d only had your own experience. “i mean, you might when you only start, but you learn to avoid it pretty quickly, and pierce your skin on accident to the point where it hurts, maybe… a few times in a few projects?” 

yeonjun hummed, his thumb rubbing the pad of his pointer finger on his left hand. maybe they were just careless?.. or it wasn’t cross-stitching at all? what else could it be, then? just sewing? 

you thought for a second before continuing. “but… i guess some people use their finger pad to feel the needle while piercing the fabric or canvas?..” you said, uncertain if that’s what he wanted to know or if it made any sense in general. “you know… instead of turning the canvas back and forth, you just control the needle with one finger on the back and another one in the front,” you tried to mimic the moves but it looked ridiculous. “it doesn’t really pierce the skin, but it’s technically poking your finger with a needle constantly…”

yeonjun frowned, trying to recall the feeling. “does it hurt? or is it just uncomfortable?” 

but before you could reply, his phone buzzed, breaking the conversation. he threw a quick glance at the number and grabbed the phone, accepting the call hurriedly, mouthing ‘locksmith’ to you. you nodded, watching his back as he rushed to the front door, quickly tugging his sneakers on, phone pressed to his ear with his shoulder, the rose keychain attached to the corridor key dangling out of his back pocket.

you felt… weird. it was a long-forgotten feeling, so you didn’t recognize it at first, but you felt like a child whose best friend's parents had come to pick them up from kindergarten, so not only you were left without your best friend, but alone in general, because the other children had already left, and you were left to wait for your own parents. longing and disappointment were a bit too strong of words for that, but it felt like them, in that childish way. 

yeonjun stopped in the middle of tying his shoe, though, listening to what the person on the other side had to say, before slowly untying his shoes and taking them off. he ended the call and turned to you, making you look at him in question. 

“something happened, and they had to move me further in order…” he mumbled, sitting back, embarrassed now at the way he’d hurried to leave the table. he only wanted to deal with the locksmith as quickly as possible so he could get back and continue talking to you, but by the way you looked at him—a tiny bit like a beaten-up puppy—he realized that it looked completely opposite of that. “they said i have to wait for an hour or two. they’ll call ten minutes before arrival.”

you nodded, rubbing the edge of the cup nervously. was he going to leave, as he now had much more time to go back home from some cafe and didn’t have to stay at your place? you didn’t want him to, but at the same time… you wouldn’t be surprised. 

yeonjun, on the other hand, was unsure how to show that he wanted to stay without making you feel like you had to let him stay if you didn't want to. but… food was always an option, wasn’t it? “it’s around time for dinner. are you hungry?” 

“oh!” you didn’t even realize that you were hungry, too consumed by the conversation. you stood up and went to the fridge. “i can cook somethi—” you paused, your shoulders falling—it was almost empty. just some snacks, milk and an egg. you were going to go to the convenience store after changing into something more comfortable, but that lost keys situation messed it up.

yeonjun looked over your shoulder at the fridge, holding back a chuckle—a typical fridge of a bachelorette (he assumed you were one based on the way your apartment looked), his own looked exactly the same. but it actually made the situation much better. “i can order something if you want? or we can go somewhere,” he proposed. “a friendly dinner as a thank you for giving me a place to wait.”

you froze for a second—he wanted to stay? you cleared your throat. “ordering something sounds great,” you admitted, shutting the fridge and sitting back. “i’m craving pizza, to be honest.” 

he smiled widely. you didn’t want him to leave—it was great. “pizza it is!” he unlocked his phone, laying it on the table between you two. “choose anything you want.”

you started scrolling through the app. “i’m the host, i’m paying…” you mumbled, adding a pizza and a drink to the order. yeonjun replied with a little ‘mhm’, turning the phone to himself. you wish, baby, he thought, choosing food for himself. 

of course, you didn’t pay. yeonjun had sworn he chose the “pay on delivery” option and even took your card when the doorbell rang. his face had been so trustworthy, you didn’t think twice. but it turned out his skill at lulling your vigilance was far better than you could expected. when he walked into the kitchen carrying the pizza boxes and a plastic bag of drinks, his expression was one of absolute shock. he announced that something had gone wrong—the order was already paid for. and, of course—how could you doubt him?—he had absolutely nothing to do with it. perhaps, he suggested, some kind soul (most likely a very handsome one, he added) had paid for it instead.

yeonjun had a way to make the atmosphere around him lighter and people around him more comfortable, you didn’t have to spend too much time figuring it out. but he also seemed to be stubborn—if he wanted to do something and thought it was right, he would do it, or find a way to do it if he was told not to. and he didn’t feel any remorse for that. but at the same time it was… fine? you didn’t want to confront him about paying for pizza, because you could easily find a way to return the favour some time later. ‘later’. the word made you feel warm inside, and you pushed all the questioning thoughts aside. yes. later.

“so,” you got yeonjun’s attention and he looked up at you, his mouth full of pizza—as if he tried to push the whole slice into his mouth without biting, which was almost cute—so you continued. “pineapple on pizza. yes or no?” 

he made a face, which was ten times funnier with his stuffed cheeks. “absolutely no,” yeonjun announced as he finally managed to swallow. “like, absolutely. you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. you just shrugged, your face sly, and he made an expression of pure horror. “don’t tell me—i can’t believe i’m living next door to a psychopath! were you lulling my vigilance for the past hours just to hit me with this news?” 

you couldn’t help but laugh your heart out at his endless drama skills, and he obviously had troubles keeping up the act and not laughing too. “it’s not that bad, yeonjun. don’t be so judgy! did you know,” you pointed at him with a pizza crust before biting into it, “that sweet and sour sauce is heavily based on pineapple juice?” 

yeonjun rolled his eyes dramatically. “everyone knows it, girl. but it’s different,” he made a huge accent on the last word. “okay. my turn. mint choco ice cream.”

you scrunched your nose. “nope. but don’t tell me it’s a yes from you,” you warned jokingly and he smirked in response. “and you dared to call me a psychopath?! you? a mint chocolate ice cream lover?” it was getting harder and harder to keep your laugh inside, especially as he kept on laughing himself, but you tried to do your best. “i’ll be much more careful while leaving home now.” 

“actually,” yeonjun tried to say it through laughter, but was completely failing. “it makes you a psychopath one more time, because mint choco is awesome! so you’re a double psychopath while i,” he pointed into his chest, “a poor victim of someone with questionable taste.” 

you shook your head—you felt so full, content and comfortable now, it was almost unbelievable, but you loved it. “okay, expect a few tones of mint choco ice cream at your door as revenge for your shameless lie about paying for pizza.”

yeonjun laughed. “you don’t really understand the concept of revenge or punishment, do you?” 

“invite me when you’re trying to find a way to store it, and ask me that one more time,” you stuck your tongue out at him, your cheeks already sore from laughing and smiling. “you’ll be watching it slowly melt while not being able to do anything about it, because you don’t have enough cold space.”

yeonjun pressed his hand to his chest, absolute terror all over his face. “a psychopath, no doubt… will you tie me down and feed me pineapple pizza next?” he asked, doing his best to keep his face straight.

“well, if that’s what gets you going…” you winked at him, but the ridiculousness of the exchange made you crack into a grin and laughter. 

he moved a bit closer to you over the table and whispered. “really wanna know?” he winked back at you, but he was so bad at it, basically just blinking with both of his eyes, making your smile only bigger.

“okay-okay, keep it to yourself, perv,” you replied through laughter, and yeonjun moved back with a grin of a winner, grabbing another pizza slice. 

talking with him was easy—he knew so much, able to continue basically any conversation, but most of them still were silly and ridiculous. you talked about everything and nothing at the same time, getting to know each other better all the while. yeonjun was a choreographer and a dance teacher. he used to be a dancer in his late teenage years, but eventually started giving lessons, making his own choreography and, well, giving lessons on his own choreography. he joked about missing the sore muscles after endless dance practices some days but always reminded himself he wasn’t that young anymore.

at some point you both somehow stumbled into a soulmate topic. it was a pure accident—you wouldn’t be able to recall how it happened or what led to it even if you tried, but you quickly changed the subject to friends, and you could swear he looked relieved for a second before composing himself. but even just a few words were enough for you two to realize that you both had some issues in that area and wandered around soulmate-less. 

you barely even noticed how another hour passed, and yeonjun’s phone buzzed with a call from the locksmith. he didn’t rush to take the call that time, though, knowing it’d only mean that this tiny two-people party was over, as if the longer he would take to answer, the more time he’d get with you. but he knew it didn’t work that way, so he accepted the call and listened to the locksmith, who was saying he’d be there in ten minutes.

yeonjun ended the call, and stayed still for a second, looking at his phone screen before tapping a few times and holding it out for you. “save your number, please. or kakao id. whichever you prefer more.” 

you hesitated, but he shook the phone softly to hurry you a bit, and you obeyed, taking it and typing your kakaotalk id in the “add friend” section. you paused, thinking of a way to save yourself, throwing a quick glance at yeonjun. he wasn’t so smiley and warm anymore, clearly dissatisfied—you were surprised how strongly his mood affected the atmosphere around him. or was it affecting just you?.. you typed in the safest option you could come up with—‘[ yn ], apt. 138’ —and tapped “add” before handing his phone back.

yeonjun looked at his screen, noticing the ridiculous name, small smile appearing on his face, as he quickly opened the editor and changed it to ‘little psycho’. he made sure you could see it just to witness your reaction, and he didn’t regret it a second, because you looked at him with one of the cutest angry expressions he had ever seen—your lips in a small pout and brows frowned.

“i’ll save you as ‘mr. maniac’ then,” you stated, but it only made him smile. you realized you were happy to make him smile and be the reason why he stopped being a thundercloud with tiny lightnings all around him—even if it was just for a second. 

“please, do. i like the way ‘mr. maniac’ and ‘little psycho’ sound,” yeonjun said, checking the watch—he had to go soon. “i’ll even put red velvet’s ‘psycho’ as your ringtone, hm?” he proposed it like it was the best idea in the world, smug about coming up with it. the lyrics flew quickly in your mind, making you press your lips together, and he noticed it immediately. “no, nevermind, sorry—”

but you composed yourself quickly. “but only if you’re getting stray kids’ ‘maniac’ as yours. fair and square,” you said, trying to keep the most serious face you could manage, holding out your hand to “seal the agreement”. yeonjun took it just as seriously, shaking it a few times, but not letting go when it was clearly time to do so. you tilted your head in question, and that was the moment you realized you should never expect anything good from that man.

yeonjun stood up from the bar stool, placing his other hand behind his back and bowing slightly as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a feather-light kiss to the back of it. “deal, milady,” he said, a foxy smile playing on his face—you were sure he wasn’t even trying to hide it, no attempt to pretend not to do it on purpose just to play with you! 

you narrowed your eyes at him, turning your hand a bit to pinch the skin between his thumb and index finger, making him tsk at you, but it quickly turned into a chuckle when he noticed the way you hissed as his ring scratched exactly the same spot on your hand. 

yeonjun's grin grew bigger at that. of course, he didn't do it on purpose, but it was funny nevertheless—the way your intent to “hurt him” turned against yourself. “the revenge was quick that time, wasn't it?” he asked mockingly, with no actual bite to his words, and somehow he was sure you knew it. his phone buzzed, though, and he realized he’d lost track of time again. “i’ll text you, okay? ‘mr. maniac’. don't forget,” he warned jokingly, trying to make you smile as he saw your face slowly falling. 

you nodded and followed him to the front door, watching him open the corridor door for the locksmith and let him in. they both came closer to you, the man asking for yeonjun's id to confirm he was living there. you almost retreated to your own apartment, not wanting to create a crowd when it obviously wasn't needed, when your eyes fell on yeonjun's wallet that he had taken out to get his id. inside, in a small window people usually used for photos, was a tiny pink pressed rose bud, the little flower made your heart skip a beat. why would he have something like that?.. even the locksmith's question didn't tear your attention away from it; it was yeonjun's soft, almost concerned ‘[ yn ]?’ that pulled you out of your head.

it was impossible to describe how embarrassed you were, trying to quickly recall what the question had been. “uh, yes, that man is my neighbour. of a few years,” you said quickly, and the locksmith nodded, giving yeonjun his id back and saying something about two confirmations being better than one, to which you only nodded absentmindedly, image of the flower still in front of your eyes. 

you waved yeonjun goodbye and mumbled something about having a good day to the locksmith before disappearing behind your door—completely unaware of yeonjun’s worried look.

the moment the door was locked, the last ‘click’ going through the heavy air, you realized how stupid you were for overthinking it—it was probably a little nothing from someone important. a girlfriend, perhaps. yes, he didn't have a soulmate, but that didn’t mean people who hadn’t met their soulmate couldn’t date anyone else—after all, your own soulmate did the same thing so many years ago. and you wouldtoo, you admitted to yourself, given the opportunity—that endless chase for someone who was god knows where, if they even were, was exhausting.

you didn’t even turn away from the door yet when your watch buzzed and you saw ‘be a cute psycho, not a sad psycho ;)’ on the screen. you looked into the peephole, and there he was—sending his failing wink at you and making you smile. you unlocked your phone and sent a quick ‘okay, mr. maniac’, accepting his friend request and changing ‘choi yeonjun’ to the nickname he wanted. you thought for a second before taking a screenshot of his name and sending it to him, getting a reply almost immediately—’good girl’. you paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure how to reply, when another message came in: ‘tell me when i’m too much, okay? don’t put up with my behaviour if it makes you uncomfortable’. it was nice—really nice, warmth spilling inside, as you sent ‘okay. but it’s fine so far, don’t worry’.

the conversation didn’t stop there—just like you two were talking about everything and nothing when yeonjun was sitting in your kitchen, you continued talking through texts, completely losing track of time—friends, families, funny stories from work. turned out he was three handshakes away from you—one of the guys who took yeonjun’s dance lessons about a year ago and became his good friend was regularly playing league with soobin. the guy he moved to japan a few months ago and kept complaining to yeonjun that his playing buddy chose a girl over him until three of them started playing together. 

it was past midnight when yeonjun said that it was time for you two to sleep, and you couldn’t even fight him on it—you tried to, but he kept correcting your sleepy typos instead of answering, and you quickly realized once again it was useless to go against him, because he would find a way to get everything done his way. so you wished him sweet dreams and locked your phone, putting it on the bedside table, your sleepy gaze still glued to it. you hoped yeonjun wasn’t finding you annoying—you liked talking to him. 

just like your head was full of him for the previous few hours, your last thoughts before finally falling asleep were the same.

the pain caused by him was delicious. it reminded you of caramel—his touches were drawn-out, hot and so, so sweet. no pleasure had ever come close to the sweetness of the pain he was inflicting upon you—he took his time, making you savour everything he was giving you and crave more. 

it felt like he was everywhere, coating every inch of your body; pain, just like honey, glazing every nerve—you could feel him tugging your hair, fist firm against the back of your head, could feel his fingertips sinking into the flesh of your thighs, craving to leave marks on you—you prayed they did—and his nails digging into your skin as he ran his hand down, leaving trails along your legs—just as burning and sweet as melted chocolate. 

his fingers around your neck felt like the only necklace you would ever want to wear from now on—hand firm, warm and sweet too. if only he tightened his hand—he did so immediately, making you roll your eyes and part your lips, and he didn't let the opportunity go to waste, sliding his index and middle finger into your mouth, the other ones and thumb digging into the gentle skin of your cheeks. 

but the most delicious pain was brought by his teeth, sinking into the skin of your neck and chest, holding it as he sucked the soft surface in, making the lonely thorny stem on your chest bloom, as he held you pressed into him. it was as if he wanted to merge you together, never letting you leave him, and you would beg him to even sew you two together just to never stop feeling that pain. would beg for more of it. 

you felt him part your legs, one hand still on your neck, another one digging fingers into the inside of your thigh as he opened you for him, sinking his teeth into the flesh of the other thigh. he leaned in, and the feeling of his warm breath between your legs made you lose the last shred of sanity you still had after all the sweet torture he put you through. at least, you thought so until his wet, warm tongue pressed against your aching clit. 

you arched your back, clenching the bed sheet in your hands. “yeonjun—” you choked out, eyes flying open, heart pounding in your chest. the ceiling of your bedroom felt pressing and heavy, trying to bury you under its weight, as if the guilt and disgust at your own dreams weren't heavy enough. 

everywhere his hands had been just mere moments ago felt dirty, as if every inch of you was covered in filth instead of the sweet honey his touches had coated you in. you wanted nothing more than to go shower and scratch away the remnants of the disgusting dream you’d had, but even the thought of touching yourself—not sexually, just touching yourself anywhere—made you want to throw up.

yeonjun was nothing but kind to you, making you feel warm and comfortable, asking if you were fine with his behaviour almost on the clock, and you paid him with having a fucking wet dream. not even a soft vanilla one—though, that one wouldn't have made the situation much better—but a dirty one, where you craved him to hurt you, and absolutely nothing was fine about it. it was that stupid masochism again, the one you tried so hard to ignore.

you sat up slowly, wincing at the uncomfortable feeling between your legs—you touched the fabric and it was basically soaked, feeling under the pads of your fingers adding to the guilt, because you weren't sure when was the last time you'd been that wet. you had to pull your panties off just not to feel your wetness against your skin—cool night air making you hiss.

the floor was cold under your bare feet, but you didn't care, finding a clean pair and pulling it on almost violently. you needed some water—your throat and lips were dry, and you prayed to all the gods that you had been just as quiet while having a wet dream as you were while touching yourself. if you remembered correctly, your and yeonjun's apartments were mirroring each other, meaning his bedroom was just behind the wall from yours. 

you stood by the counter, your fingers clutching the glass—you two were sitting just a few hours ago behind your back, and you wondered how you'd be able to look him in the eyes now, if you couldn't even look at yourself. 

just a wall away from where you were only a few minutes ago, yeonjun stirred awake with a soft groan on his lips, head thrown back. his heart was beating like crazy, and his entire body was covered in a thin layer of sweat, as he struggled to catch his breath and grasp at least one coherent thought amidst the dozen flying through his mind. but most importantly, he wanted to focus on anything but the images that stayed in his head even after he woke up.

yeonjun couldn't believe these thoughts, these fantasies were back. they weren't too hardcore, but he still had been pushing them down and ignoring their existence for years. no matter how he tried to phrase it, none sounded good—‘i’m a sadist’? he was, but he was a softcore one—that wasn't what anyone would think when hearing the word, though. ‘i enjoy causing pain’? it was even worse. and even knowing the truth himself, he couldn't accept it, too afraid of being labeled a psychopath. again. 

but they were back, and in the worst way possible—dreams. something yeonjun couldn't control. and what dreams they were—about the sweet neighbour he had only started getting to know better, and never wanted to make her feel uncomfortable. but his brain thought differently. too differently, throwing in images of the way your skin felt between his lips and teeth, of the way his fingers fit perfectly around your neck, as if it was made for him to hold it, of the way you trembled and clenched at every little glimpse of pain he was giving you.

yeonjun felt himself twitch in his boxers—pictures too vivid in his head. he ran his fingers through his hair, pulling the damp bangs away from his sweaty forehead and tugging at the roots. he didn't want to do it, truly didn't, but it was almost hurting, and his free hand—almost on its own accord—drifted down to jerk his tank top higher and then palm his hard cock through his boxers. he groaned at the feeling that was releasing at least a bit of pressure—pressure so unbearable, it almost shadowed the guilt he felt over thinking about you in such way.

the fabric was soaked through with precum, and yeonjun pushed it down with a quiet, low moan, freeing himself, his pulsing cock slapping against his stomach and leaving a smear of precum on his skin. he wrapped his hand around the shaft, stroking it slowly, images from the dream finding its way back into his mind—he tried his best to keep his fantasies to the needed minimum, not letting anything else in. he was doing it only to get rid of a boner.

but you felt so good beneath him there, your expressions, your sounds, the little trembles of your body and the way you clung to him, begging for more—all of it was sweeter than honey. yeonjun couldn’t stop his thoughts from wandering. was it possible to make you even sweeter? of course, he thought, cock twitching in his hand even before he finished the thought. because he could want anything, crave anything and you would give it to him, because you craved the same thing. like his lost puzzle piece. 

yeonjun stroked himself faster, his grip tightening around his throbbing cock as he started losing himself in the fantasy, much more dangerous than the one he had dreamed about, but he was in too deep to stop, because you—the one from the dream—was her. the one he had craved so much but had buried deep inside, down to the last thought. the one who wanted everything he wanted to give and could give—in exact same amounts. just perfect for him down to the smallest whimpers of pleasure found in the pain he gave you.

the thought made yeonjun groan, his hips bucking up into his fist as he felt his release building fast. he could almost hear your mewls and sobs of begging to never stop, feel your hands on his body, holding him and accepting him and his every dark part. he came, biting into his lip hard to muffle his moan of your name, as thick ropes of cum painted his stomach and hand. 

yeonjun tried to catch his breath, guilt slowly creeping in—much stronger than before—but there was something worse. the word was still bright, almost blinding in his mind, and he couldn’t believe a mere wet dream and just jerking off had awakened in him something that he had been hiding from himself for nearly a decade.

he looked at his hand, covered in cum, in disgust and grabbed the pack of facial tissues, pulling them out harshly to get rid of the reminders of everything that had happened. yeonjun wasn’t disgusted by his cum—he was a grown up, after all—but he hated everything that was somehow connected to it this time, and tissues weren’t enough. he threw the box somewhere on the bed and got up to go to the bathroom to at least wash his hands properly. 

yeonjun didn’t even bother to wipe them dry, just pausing in the doorway on his way out and shaking the drops off, as his gaze fell on the key you had given him, the silver rose keychain dangling down from the shelf, reflecting a light that went through the window from somewhere outside in the night. it was too dark to see the thorns, but he knew they were there, mocking him with the cruel coincidence. 

the way yeonjun tugged his tank top off on his way to the large mirror was almost cruel—he couldn’t care less if he tore it, he needed to look at it. he turned his back to the mirror, looking at the reflection over his shoulder, and there it was—mark of a wild rose, a thorned rose stem crossing his back. looking at it was almost foreign, feeling like a distant memory of someone who he had been years ago. 

yeonjun had always thought he was lucky to have it somewhere he just couldn’t see it—wild roses didn’t always find their soulmates, and their marks were a constant reminder of that, so he felt sorry for those who had to look at it regularly. he had the privilege of only seeing his own when he wanted to, and he never did—he hadn’t seen it for years. but had it helped him now? 

had his dismissal towards it helped him, when his tired and stressed brain clung to the nicest and most relaxing thing that had happened to him in weeks and distorted it into something dirty and disgusting, which had awakened a craving for something that he had given up on getting long ago, because his soulmate was nowhere to be found? 

had his pretending helped him, when he came with the thought of just being accepted? 

everything melted under the morning light, though—just like how it could turn the monster in the dark corner into a coat carelessly hung on the coat rack, when you were a child, in the same way, it transformed all the thoughts, fears and, most importantly, guilt into indifference for both of you. 

in the darkness of the night, you weren't sure how you could even think of yeonjun, but now, as you were applying healing lip balm to you sore lower lip—that you, perhaps, had bitten too hard last night—while trying to type with your other hand, you didn’t see any problem—you couldn’t control your dreams. your brain had probably been so overloaded with yeonjun for hours before you went to sleep, that it just continued thinking of him even subconsciously. god, you even had a wet dream about soobin once, after you two stayed in the office until almost midnight and you were just too tired. 

yeonjun would never know about it anyway—unless you told him, and you surely weren’t going to. you were going to just go with the flow and let stuff happen the way they were supposed to, without ruining everything for yourself by feeling ‘guilt’ and ‘disgust’ toward your subconscious. you would just deal with the consequences later—if there would be any, of course. you sure there wouldn’t be.  

and it was the same for yeonjun, who was almost embarrassed with how dramatic he had been in the dark shadows of his apartment and thoughts, longing for a soulmate who would ‘accept’ him. yes, his soulmate would—just as he would do the same for them—because his darkness aligned and blended perfectly with theirs. that was the point of soulmates. but who said his soulmate was the only one who could do it? his friends accepted him—yes, it was different, but it was still acceptance. who said there was only one person in the world that could accept him as a lover? bullshit.

and when it came to the filthiness of thoughts yeonjun had about you… he wasn’t so sure it was truly you, if he was being honest. in the chill morning air, it felt more like a phantom of his soulmate—one he secretly craved so badly to hold—had shaped itself into your form just because he spent so much time with you yesterday. it probably had to do a little with you as… you. too little. almost nothing.

so yeonjun had almost no remorse sending you a good morning text in the form of ‘so, are you having pineapple pizza for breakfast? or are you going to add pineapples to kimchi maybe?’. before he could even wonder if it sounded a bit too rude or aggressive, you hit him back with ‘okay, jokes aside, serious question now. do you put choco mint ice cream on your fried chicken or do you prefer to dip it?’, making him smile—you matched his sass, and he loved it.

yeonjun asked you if you wanted him to keep you company on your way to the ground floor, so you wouldn’t get bored waiting for the elevator and in it—a kind man he was—and you hesitantly agreed, not wanting to burden him, but keeping in mind that he was the one who offered. he didn’t have to, but he still did, so it was safe to assume he at least had no problems with it—and at most, wanted to. so you chose not to think for him and just be honest. 

it was awkward, leaving the apartment and seeing him by your door, waiting for you, but you brushed it off—it reminded you of a friend waiting for you to walk to school together, and it wasn’t a big deal. what was a big deal was the way your heart skipped a beat when you saw him, images from the dream still haunting you, a weird feeling blooming in your lower stomach. seeing him after the way you had felt him in the dream was unsettling, but you tried to push the images away—of course, they were still there, barely any time had passed.

it was the same for yeonjun, his breath hitching when he saw you—so composed and neat compared to how messy and ruffled you had looked in his dream and his fantasies. he quickly corrected himself—not you. his soulmate. with your appearance, but still not you. but he didn’t realize that it took him a bit too long until your question pulled him from his thoughts.

yeonjun was looking at you so intently that you felt an almost overpowering need to make yourself seem smaller. he couldn’t read your mind, could he?.. “is there something on my face?” you asked uncertainly, your hand shooting up to touch your lips. you didn’t have a coffee mustache, did you? that’d be so embarrassing!

“huh?” yeonjun quickly ran his eyes over your face. “no, nothing,” he shook his head, but almost immediately narrowed his eyes, leaning in just a bit closer, making your eyes widen. but then he shook his head and straightened back. “nope, nothing.” 

that man was something else, you thought. “what did you think you saw?” you asked curiously, as you both headed to the elevator hall.

“hm?” yeonjun threw a quick glance at you. “it seemed like you had a whole pineapple slice in the corner of your lip,” he shrugged nonchalantly, but the tiny smirk tugging at his lips gave away his intentions to tease you. he continued, “probably imagined it.” 

you quirked an eyebrow at him, keeping the play up as you stepped into the elevator. “really? just a few hours with me, and you are already imagining pineapples everywhere?” you leaned your back against the mirror, watching as he stood a bit to the side to adjust his hair. “what’s next? ordering pineapple pizza in the middle of the night so no one sees it?” 

gosh, yeonjun thought, throwing a quick glance at your reflection. you fit right into the circle of people he enjoyed spending time with. and what was even better, he knew he’d always have the last word with you. “mhm,” he turned to you. “wait til you look at mint choco ice cream in a convenience store, and the next second, you find yourself eating it with a tablespoon in the middle of the night, thinking of me,” he smirked.

you rolled your eyes playfully, covering up the weird way your insides reacted to ‘thinking of him in the middle of the night’. “you wish,” you stuck your tongue out at him, knowing he’d take it as your defeat. yeonjun seemed to like making you flustered and having the upper hand, and you could get flustered easily sometimes and had never been too sharp-tongued, sometimes struggling to come up with extremely clever and sassy responses—but he didn't seem to mind.

but ‘keeping company to the ground floor’ became ‘keeping company to the nearest bakery’ to get morning coffee for both of you—yeonjun said that he since was already outside, he might as well use the opportunity to get americano for now and some baked goods for later. you weren't sure who was the first to joke when he handed you your cup, but his question about whether there was a pineapple slice in your coffee blended with your question about him deciding against adding chocolate-ed toothpaste to his coffee this time, and neither of you had even finished—your shared laughter filled the little bakery instead. 

when you parted your ways, though, yeonjun realized that while talking to you made his exhausting thoughts disappear and he could just stop worrying about basically anything—which was only weird because you had met a little over twelve hours ago, as his friends were able to do the same—whenever you two weren’t talking, his mood became even worse than before, thoughts about not meeting his soulmate yet coming back to haunt him. he thought he had stopped caring a few years ago. 

it wasn’t easy to keep himself from turning around to look at you, but he managed to, gripping the cup in his hand tighter, the ice cubes clicking together and cooling his skin even through plastic. was the temporary happiness worth the dark thoughts that crept in the moment he hadn't heard from you for a minute? he wasn't sure. it still wasn't too late to go back to being just neighbours—you still had nothing between you two except one and a half inner jokes. it'd be easy to pretend things just didn't work out. 

yeonjun unlocked his phone, the chat with you still open on the screen. his eyes ran over the lines of the morning conversation, a soft smile appearing on his face. he wasn't sure he could do it—to pretend it just didn't work out—because it did, and your messages were perfect proof of it. he wasn't a weak man; he knew how to fight bad habits and addictions, and he could fight this one too, but… did he want to?

you, on the other hand, felt like you were shining from the inside. it seemed like the universe, destiny, fate, or whatever else was up there had heard your intentions of letting the soulmate situation go and sent yeonjun to support you along the way. maybe yeonjun was a sign, hitting you right over the head, telling you it was time to move on and focus on something else. for example, building a good friendship with someone nice and kind? it probably was. what else could it be? 

it became a regular habit—not a daily one, but yeonjun kept you company on your way to your work until the bakery at least two or three times a week, when his schedule allowed him—sometimes, his lessons started early in the morning, and he left while you were still sound asleep. he usually told you about it the morning of the previous day, adding something like “just don't miss me too much” or “i hope you won't cry on your way to work”.

yeonjun developed a habit of visiting the bakery and paying for your regular order beforehand these days, but of course, when you asked him about it, he had sworn it wasn't him—just some other kind and extremely handsome soul. perhaps the same one that paid for the pizza the first day. but you weren't going to let it slide, so whenever you both visited the bakery, it turned into a competition who could pay for both orders faster, and eventually two orders became one—to make it impossible to have a tie and to minimize the playful wrestling your competition was turning into.

what surprised you the most, though—because yeonjun's desire to pay for you didn't—was that he and soobin somehow got into contact, probably through beomgyu, and almost made a schedule. whenever soobin couldn't walk you home after working extra hours—either because he had his own plans or because you were the only one who stayed behind—yeonjun was right there, waiting for you. you knew you could tell soobin you wanted to go home alone that day, and he'd text yeonjun, telling him not to worry, but somehow, you were sure yeonjun would still come, not wanting you to walk alone when it was getting dark even before you left work. and you liked spending extra time with him, so you never fought him on it.

every time yeonjun saw you and your bright smile directed at him, he thanked his past self for deciding against pretending things between you and him didn't work out. he realized it wasn't you who was a problem despite triggering these dark thoughts, he was one—he had never really worked them through, choosing to just ignore them until they disappeared. and he thought they had, but of course they hadn't. yet somehow, it felt like just your presence was slowly healing him, motivating him to work his issues out, and it was getting better, even though he never shared his burdens with you. 

unexpectedly enough, you hadn't visited yeonjun's apartment in these two months, and he had only visited yours on the day you two talked for the first time. your schedules just didn't seem to match well enough—your nine-to-five job barely aligned with his packed weekday evenings (some days he had to rush back to the dance studio after walking you home) and almost full weekends, where he could have up to twelve hours of lessons each day. 

“as i spent two hours at your place the first day,” yeonjun once stated while walking you home, your fingers wrapped around his arm, as he held an umbrella over you both, “it'll be only fair if you spend just as much time at mine,” he threw his regular glance at you to check if you were fully shielded from rain.

it pulled you out of your head and you looked at yeonjun with a little ‘hm?’ but your brain caught up before he could repeat himself. “two hours? don't tell me you're going to set a countdown and push me out the moment it runs out,” you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

“nah, don't worry,” yeonjun assured you, poking your shoulder. “i’ll set a countdown and won't let you out until it goes out,” he paused for a second, wondering if he should say that, but jokes like that had become more or less regular between you two pretty quickly. he just hoped you'd tell him if he ever made you feel uncomfortable. “might even tie you up, hm?” 

you looked at him with ‘are you serious?’ expression, trying to contain your smile. “you're such a perv, jun,” you said, shaking your head, but you weren't serious about it, and he knew it—you often were the one to start these jokes. “how did we get from jokes about tying you up to jokes about tying me up, though?” 

yeonjun shrugged. “got to know each other better?” he was only half joking—he had enough experience to be almost completely sure where exactly you leaned on that… coordinate line. and considering you were keeping up with that direction of jokes, he assumed he was right. 

you narrowed your eyes at him—were you that obvious? “what does that mean, choi yeonjun?” you asked with mock pressure, but he only laughed, shaking his head. “are you free to hang out today?” you asked quietly, hoping he was. why would he mention it in the first place if he wasn't?

but yeonjun only shook his head, sighing. “no, sorry, mouse,” he squeezed your hand on his arm with his in an attempt to comfort you at least a bit. “i have classes in twenty minutes and almost til midnight,” he said. he hated to upset you—you never said it outright, but he could hear it in your voice. and he knew he’d hear that little hint of disappointment now too. 

of course, he did… you nodded, eyes glued to the tips of your shoes. “okay…”, you mumbled, looking at the reflection of you both in the puddles. it was his job, and he already somehow managed to find time between classes to walk you home when soobin couldn't and woke up early some days to keep you company on your way to work. you wished you could hide your emotions better, but it was difficult to pretend with him. you wanted to be sincere. “sorry. don’t think about it, okay?”

yeonjun pressed his lips together—you both still hadn't passed that stage. you could show your emotions to each other, but never really shared deep feelings, quickly pushing them away and covering them with a smile. and he couldn't ask you to open up, because he wasn't sure he would be able to do the same. “okay,” he smiled warmly at you. “i’ll record myself dancing between classes and send it to you, okay?”

you nodded, already happier—you loved watching him dance because you could see how much he enjoyed doing it, basically shining from the inside when he was doing it, his happiness almost contagious. and yeonjun enjoyed showing his skills to you too—he had only showed you his dancing in person a few times, but each time you looked at him with such awe, as if he were performing miracles rather than just moving his limbs. it fed his ego to no end, if he had to admit.

a few weeks later, though, yeonjun managed to free up his schedule a little and finally invited you to his place, swearing he didn't have any mint choco ice cream there, and you promised your pockets were free of pineapple pizzas. he had admitted he had nothing against pineapples on pizza less than a week after joking about it for the first time, and you said you were only joking about mint chocolate too, but the joke still stuck—it was your first inside joke (or the second one, after the one about yeonjun being a maniac one).

you found out he played guitar—the tips of your fingers itched at the memory, but you pushed it away—but he hadn’t played much recently, barely having time to practice anymore, so he figured he had probably lost all his skills. but yeonjun tried to remember a melody, playing it for you as you sat in his living room, watching him try to recall finger placements. and he was actually good, making you wonder why he gave himself so little credit sometimes. he was a great singer too—another skill from his middle school years—and while the highest notes weren’t his strongest suit, his soft, breathy singing was one of the nicest voices you had ever heard.

since then, yeonjun managed to free up even more time to spend it with you and his other friends—he was glad you motivated him to do it, because he realized he had been overworking himself like crazy for the past two years, taking on more classes than he could realistically handle while still enjoying his job. he could finally sleep properly too, minimizing the number of classes that started too early or ended too late, which also gave him opportunity to meet his old friends more often and spend time with you at his or your place almost on daily basis. 

it made you both slowly start opening up to each other about your current problems—work, friends, families—as you sat on the couch late at night,the room dimly lit by a paused movie or tv series on the screen, a slightly open window letting in cool air and making you wrap your blankets tighter around yourselves. all of it made the atmosphere too comfortable, almost intimate, making each of you think about the things that were burdening you and stealing the desire to keep them to yourselves when getting asked about them. 

often, you were the one who shared your burdens, and yeonjun listened, giving advice or, more often, sharing his point of view on the things you were worried about. you never expected him to be so emotionally mature, if you had to admit—he was extremely stubborn and even short-tempered some days, occasionally seemed to have issues when his authority was questioned, and you had noticed some light possessive tendencies, but his advice was always great, and most of the time, he was able to help you decipher your own feelings and emotions when you were completely confused.

yeonjun preferred to keep his burdens to himself—not just from you, but from almost everyone. he was the oldest in his friend group, and didn’t want to burden others in general, especially the ones who were younger. and, he once admitted, he also felt even more protective over you. he never said why, but you knew—he saw you weak. not in a bad way, just as someone who needed protection, and he wanted to take that role, which meant he wasn’t allowed to make you feel worse in any way, even if it was worrying about him. 

but at the same time, yeonjun tried his best to open up about things he was sure wouldn’t worry you too much—an annoying person in his class, spoiled milk because he forgot to put it back in the fridge, or a takeout order that was delivered wrong. things that made him annoyed or angry, not upset or hurt, because he was afraid you’d mirror his feelings, and being annoyed was much better than being upset. but even so, it still helped him open up more and more to you.

the only thing neither of you ever mentioned in these months was soulmates—the first slip into that topic had drawn a line you both didn’t want to cross, realizing how difficult it was even without knowing the details. mostly because it was the same for both of you. but at the same time, neither yeonjun nor you worried too much about it recently, too focused on maintaining a newly found friendship. of course, some dark thoughts still haunted you in the dead of night, but it happened much less frequently. 

wet dreams started happening more frequently, though. so often, you didn’t even bother anymore, simply going right back to sleep after waking up from another one in the middle of the night. all of them were based on the same thing—pain, which was more or less understandable, given your type of soulmate bond affected your relationship with it a lot. but you couldn’t wrap your head around yeonjun being the one in your dreams. he seemed so gentle with whatever he touched, so soft, a complete opposite of how he was in your dreams, and despite him being an extremely handsome man and everything anyone could want in a partner, you weren’t sure you were sexually attracted to him. at least, not until yet another wet dream that made you look at him differently for a few days.

for yeonjun, it was even worse—the fantasies he had been suppressing for years started creeping closer to the surface, which didn’t match well with his already naturally high libido, more free time from work, and not wanting to look for a friend with benefits or even a one-night stand. some nights he even managed to jerk off and clean up while being half-asleep, waking up in the morning with only a fleeting memory of what had happened. he felt more annoyed by it than guilty, but refused to admit it even to himself—the thought felt extremely selfish and wrong. he wasn't sure why you were the one who pushed his pain kink to the surface, unable to find an answer no matter how much time he spent thinking about it.

it became such a regular thing for both of you, that you just went about your days like nothing had changed, neither of you trying to put any distance between you. you kept getting closer, and at some point, yeonjun gave you a spare key to his apartment—he wasn't sure why, but said it felt ‘natural’. you joked that at least he wouldn’t have to worry about losing his keys anymore, before giving him a spare key to yours—it felt ‘natural' too. 

while you barely used yeonjun's, he used yours almost regularly—his uneven working schedule was giving him an opportunity to go grocery shopping in the middle of the day sometimes, so he started buying groceries for both of you, so you wouldn’t have to bother with it after work, leaving them at your place. of course, he always asked beforehand if he could come into your apartment or if you'd prefer him to keep them at his place until you could take them later, but you had no problem with him visiting your place, so you always gave the green light.

yeonjun never took it as a “permanent green light” though, and kept asking for your permission. so when one friday evening you texted him about not feeling too well and probably having a cold—just to explain why you couldn't hang out with him—he asked if he could check on you in the morning and maybe cook something for you. you agreed hesitantly, under the condition of him not getting too close to you so he wouldn't catch a cold too. you both knew perfectly well that he'd do whatever he wanted anyway, but it was obvious he wouldn't visit you without your permission. still, he'd worry his ass out if he didn’t, so you just agreed—you’d take care of him if he got sick. 

in the middle of the night, your fever got much worse, your temperature rising significantly and you were so cold, that you could do nothing except pull thick warm pajamas over the skimpy top and shorts you usually slept in and add another blanket, wrapping yourself in two of them like a hot, feverish burrito. and that was exactly how yeonjun found you in the early morning.

it was still dark, but yeonjun decided he could check your temperature in the dim glow of the city lights filtering through your window—he didn't want to wake you by turning on the bright lights, so he stepped to your bed, already feeling uneasy at the sight of how little of your face was visible between the uneven layers of blankets.  and it only got worse when he crouched down next to the bed and touched your cheek with the back of his hand—you were practically burning.

yeonjun almost jumped up, quickly slapping the nightlight lamp you had on your bedside table, the room filling with a soft yellow glow as he started unwrapping you from the layers of blankets. “come on, mouse, don't be stubborn,” he mumbled, when you tried to cling to the fabric, but he was stronger in general and you were weakened by the cold, so he had no problem uncovering you. “shit… are you trying to burn yourself alive?” he cursed, when he saw how thick your pajamas were. 

but that's when yeonjun froze, towering over you, his knee on the bed as you tried to keep warm, curling into a ball, your back facing him. he wasn't sure you were wearing anything underneath—panties, most probably, but a top…? cautiously, he slid the pajama top up your back, revealing the thin fabric of a crop top, damp with sweat and clinging to your skin. your skin felt like fire under his fingers. shit, he thought. please, don't hate me. 

he turned you on your back, trying to tug your pajama top off, but you clung to his arms with quiet sniffles. yeonjun thought his heart was breaking at the way you kept softly sobbing his name, saying how cold you were—he wasn’t even sure how you recognized him in that state, but you did. 

“baby,” he whispered, trying to lift your arms, but you only tried to wrap them around him, desperate for even a bit of his warmth. “we need to lower your temperature. please, let me take this off.”

you only whimpered his name again, your nails digging into his forearm. “jjun-ie… it’s so cold,” you sobbed quietly, and yeonjun’s heart skipped a beat—you had never called him that way before, and the way you did now made him want to protect you from everything. or give in. but he knew better. “you’re so warm…”

yeonjun hushed you, quickly throwing a glance at the medicine and glass of water on your bedside table beside the thermometer—you prepared it before going to bed. good girl. “i’ll warm you, i promise,” he murmured, pressing his palm to your side—your temperature was only getting higher. “just let me take this off, okay?” he said, tugging the pajama top up slightly. 

you nodded with a quiet ‘okay’, and yeonjun, finally getting permission even though a questionable one, pulled the over your head—at least you cooperated now—and froze with it in his hands, his eyes locked on your skin that wasn’t covered with the short top. he almost forgot how to breath. 

when he realized he had to undress you, he had told himself this was nothing, that he had seen enough women naked before, that there wouldn’t be anything new. and there wasn’t anything new. but there was something he had never expected to see—the mark. the one that resembled the one on his back. the same mark he had seen on the bodies of other wild roses he knew. half of the stem hidden beneath your top.

you were a wild rose. yeonjun felt like a complete idiot—everything had hinted at that. all the wild roses he knew disliked or even hated roses before meeting their soulmate, yet they always had something connected to roses on them. some wore jewelry, some had keychains or little paintings of one in their phone case. he had a pressed rosebud in his wallet, and you never took off a velvet bracelet that—he now realized—would look like a thorny rose stem if you laid it down. 

you had some issues with connection or your soulmate—yeonjun didn’t know the details, but he had never met a wild rose who had it easy. that type of bond being probably the least stable and the most unpredictable one. and you also tried your best to be extremely carefulб even in your clumsiest moments—that was something wild roses learned early on. and, well, you hadn’t met your soulmate, which wasn’t too strange before, but made sense now—many wild roses wandered alone for a really long time. 

yeonjun almost touched the thorn under your collarbone as if hypnotized when your sob of his name pulled him out of the haze. you sat up, reaching for him, and he was actually glad you did, because he needed you to take your medicine. he sat on the bed next to you, and you clung to him almost instantly, one of your hands slipping under his hoodie to press against his back, as you tried to warm yourself. he froze—his own mark was there, and even though you couldn’t feel it, it still made him feel weird. 

but yeonjun only adjusted your position slightly, settling you between his legs, your side pressed to his chest. he suddenly felt weak, wondering if the discovered information was already taking its toll on him. but he shook his head—not the right time to think about it. he popped the pill out and grabbed the glass, placing the medicine in your palm and guiding the glass to your hand, his own holding it over yours in case you were too weak. 

you stopped sobbing about being cold, though you still shivered and trembled slightly in his arms. maybe, the fresh air in your room had cooled you down a bit, clearing your mind, but either way, yeonjun was glad you had calmed down a bit—it made you much more cooperative. you took the medicine almost without needing his words, earning a quiet  ‘good girl’ from him, which you probably paid no attention to.

your arms were around yeonjun’s waist the moment he took the glass away from you, holding him tightly as you pressed your chest against his as much as you could in that position. he quietly asked you if he could take off your too-thick pajama pants as well, and you nodded with a quiet ‘yes’, your head resting on his shoulder, breath warm against his neck. you even lifted your hips slightly to help him pull your pants down, getting another ‘good girl' in response.

yeonjun put the thermometer into your mouth and rested his palm on your bare knee, as you pulled your legs closer to your chest, cold now as your pajamas were gone. he tried to warm you at least a little, but mostly, he let you warm yourself against him the way you wanted to, like your own personal human heater—it was the first time you two had been this close, and it was extremely close compared to the simple hello and goodbye hugs, which had been the closest you’d ever gotten. and he was too lost in thoughts anyway to think about how to warm you actively without crossing any boundaries. 

somehow, the discovery was horrifying, and mostly because yeonjun had no idea why it scared him so much. was it because it made him feel so much more protective over you, knowing perfectly how painful that type of bond could be? or because of how close it would naturally bring you together in search of comfort whenever it came to anything about soulmates? or maybe because he knew he would have to open up now and tell you who he was—because he knew who you were, and it would only be fair. because he was afraid to open that pandora’s box he called his soul. afraid to do it again, and realize, too late, that he had chosen the wrong person. one more time.

but as you finally fell asleep on his shoulder, your breathing even, your hold loosening and your skin no longer burning—the second temperature check confirming it—yeonjun knew he would never tell you how much you clung to him or how helpless you had sounded, unless you remembered it yourself. he didn't want you to feel embarrassed, especially when there was nothing to be embarrassed about in the first place. he caressed your cheek without thinking, surprising himself both with the action and with the way you instinctively leaned into his cool hand.

carefully, yeonjun laid you back down on your bed and covered you with a thin blanket, holding himself back from pressing lips to your forehead the way his mom always did to him, even when he had grown up. he got up slowly—he still felt weak, but he had to cook something for you, so you’d have something to eat when you woke up. he slapped the nightlight one more time to turn it off, and threw one last quick glance at you before leaving the bedroom. 

you were much more surprising than he could ever expect, and he had no idea what to do with these surprises. 

♡ you're here ♡ | to chapter 2 →

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[dogsrot]

thinking about how scary it is when fenrir goes mute before he just starts to laugh . .

[abyssalpriest]

Damnit lev lmfao. I was thinking about Shiva wearing corpse ash being resonant for other reasons, something about his relationship with the Bright Skinned Ones and death and whatever. No, no. More fucking importantly: Oh I wonder why Shiva is known for. you know. wearing bodies. his appearance is a mass of bodies joined together. yeah

[actual-corpse]

Telling people you're Christian: Blasè, dated, wrong. Instant dislike.

Telling people you're a true follower of Christ: Idk... What I'm saying but I'm trying to make a point about Christians not actually following the teachings of Christ and if they were True followers then they wouldn't be so far up everyone's ass with controlling and hateful policies like...

Homophobes think more about gay sex than actual gay people! And they're way too concerned about genitals.... and they're really creepy about children... ACTUAL children.

The projection is REAL. The call is coming from INSIDE THE HOUSE! You're the problem! You're the person you're scared of!

They freak out over people "forcing trans on kids" as if they themselves aren't forcing unnecessary surgeries onto Intersex babies!!! Transphobes are the ones forcing kids to transition!!

If they truly believed in their "God" then they would not mutilate intersex babies! Because they would believe God made them that way and that they were special or whatever idfk.

IT ISN'T ABOUT THE BIBLE! THEY JUST WANT CONTROL!!! How the FUCK are you gonna say something was "God's plan" and then mutilate a baby?!?!? They deny their children life-saving medical treatment bc it's "God's plan" but then in the same breath mutilate intersex babies... put them on hormones that make them sick... just so they can be "normal".

[arminsumi]

cws; smut, rough s*x, mentions sq**rting, milkman cliché, namecalling, sum back scratching, this is goofy asf LOL 🐥

Milkman!Gojo who doesn't just 'dick you down'; he fucks you into the 4th dimension. His strokes are actually insane. You can't keep up with him and he's laughing about it because up until now it's been you who's the horniest — the lonely single hottie flirting obnoxiously with the way too fuckable milkman. Shit, it was you who begged him to fuck you dumb in the first place. He's jus' delivering! One second he's giving you milk and the next he's stripping his uniform off and letting his cock spring out to give you... well, more milk?!

Locking you into the nastiest mating press you've ever endured, milkman!Gojo's slamming into your sensitive pussy so hard and fast at the perfect angle that you're actually scared of your orgasm — how he works it out of you with such violent thrusts that you hiccough and feel like you're about to cry. He just gives it to you without mercy, no breaks no bullshit he is dicking you the fuck downnn

"Holy shit! Nng! Fuck! Don't you fucking stop!" you squeal, clawing desperately at his back and leaving raw red lines, "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Ahhh ummm I'm gonna c-cum?! Nnn!! I'm gonna cum... I'm cumming on your cock... I... um... shit, I-I'm ahh cumming...!"

His dick has you stressing out — like actually. Your pussy's under pressure like she's taking a big dick exam. Each inch he packs into your spasming cunt is changing your world perspective. Did you squirt? You can't tell. But you came without touching your clit for like, the first time, which is insane to you. His cum is pumping into you and he's shuddering, calling you a slutty bitch or whatever other foul names — with affection, you know, he's a charming guy. And he's left you with a charming creampie to ooze out your abused cunt.

He's stifling laughter once he's done filling you up with his milk, sliding his cock out with a nasty squelchy pop! and he's asking if you're okay after literally ruining you; you can't move a single muscle, you can only "bask" in the afterglow which feels more like an aftershock because that orgasm was some high-level earthquake shit.

"What the fuck... I need t-t-to lay here and think about life for a bit..."

He's howling with laughter, "Damn, did I fuck your brains out or what?"

"Nah, shut up with ya bullshit — your dick is insane, no wonder you can't keep a girlfriend. Like, there's dicking down and then there's whatever that was — plowing me into the fourth fucking dimension... don't laugh!"

So now after that, you call your milkman up whenever you need "insane 4th dimension dicking down" and he snickers, ready to deliver — knocking at your door and waiting to cum inside.

[tojisteddy]

Toji’s notorious for calling you mama.

I just think, if Toji is going around calling you ‘ma’ and ‘mama’ you’re definitely calling him ‘papa.’ At first you were trying to tease him but it became a nickname he loved hearing from you. It’s endearing.

Both of you don’t have kids yet, but it’s like you’re mentally preparing for it because that’s the future you two envision— one that’s together. Neither of you use it constantly, you call each other by your other nicknames too but ‘mama’ and ‘papa’ are just so sentimental to the both of you.

Yes, you do call him papa while he’s rearranging your guts.

You’re a squirming mess, on your hands and knees, overstimulated and can barely think— clawing to get away from the man after coming for the nth time. But he’s dragging you back by your bruised hips for you to settle at the very bottom of his cock.

“Noooooo— hnngh-“

“Yeeesss,” he mocked you, giving you a hard smack to the ass and he ramming back into you. “Good girls, take it all. I told you that- haaah- what? You too fucked out tuh listen?”

Your legs were shaking, eyes at the back of your skull, a sobbing, pussy gushing, hiccuping mess, Toji laughed at the sight, “ ‘F course ya— shit ma- course ya can’t. Yer completely fucked out. Aah- Look so pretty ‘f me.”

Just the way Toji liked you.

His adorable, cock drunk, baby.

“Here,” he grunted, slowly pulling out just a little bit of his aching wood out, “Let papa help you.”

He pulling you up so your back is on his chest so the both of you are on your knees, spreading the both of your legs out so you can feel really all of him.

“T-Toji!” You squeaked. It felt like his cock was going to come out of your lungs.

“Huh? We go by first names now?”

You hiccuped, slamming your hips down to meet his thrusts.

“Papaaa, it’s— God, it’s so goooood.”

You feel that devilish smirk of his as he’s nipping all over your neck.

“I know baby, fuck,” he brings one of your hands down to your stomach with his making you gently press down on it, and he chuckles. “You feel that ma? Hm?” He was swiveling his hips, just so he could hit your g-spot, over, and over and over. “That’s yours Doll. It’s allllll yours.”

You screamed in pleasure, started to flutter around him. Toji was cursing up a storm, feeling himself get there himself.

“Come on, let Papa give you a baby. I know that’s what you want, huh mama?”

Youre delirious at this point, all you can manage is ‘yessss’ fucking him back just the way he liked it.

You were seeing white, screaming out Toji’s name as your walls spasmed around his throbbing, veiny cock.

Water, you were harshly squirting on the sheets so it was sopping wet, down to his balls. The pure sight of you loosing it and your snug cunt begging for his cum sent him over the edge. Filling you to the brim and painting your walls pure white.

He bent the both of you over to the mattress, exhausted, still giving you slow thrusts for you to have all his cum, sloppily kissing you.

“Shit, you’re so good for me mama.”

[cursedyuri]

On my hands and knees begging for a fic where vi mocks the readers moans and the reader is super into it

bitch you’re fucking sick in the head. i love it. some kindaaaa spicy, borderline bdsm stuff below so read forth with caution! there’s aftercare tho. and 18+ as always.

vi’s trying to commit this version of you to memory: dazed and fucked out, tears streaking down your cheeks, your hands tensed around fistfuls of the bedsheets. your cunt is spread wide and puffy for her, so slick it damn near glistens in the dim bedroom lighting. dark, angry-looking hickeys decorate your complexion, and vi can’t even remember when she sucked bruises into certain parts of you - had she really spent so much time latched to your left hip? the inside of your wrist?

whatever, it’s not important. shes supposed to be focusing on giving you what you want - what you need. what you’ve been begging for since she’d first bit into the flesh where your shoulder and neck connect. it’s been two orgasms since then, and though you’re certainly more delirious now, drool weeping from the corner of your lips, eyes all faraway, you’ve still managed to keep up with the begging.

“please, vi,” you whisper, “please.”

your watery eyes search her frame, something akin to relief washing over your features when you process the fact that vi’s already slipped into her harness. there’s a wrinkle between your brows when you pout like this, and vi wants to lean over and kiss it.

“so needy,” she says instead, shuffling forward on her knees to settle herself between your legs. “can’t stop begging for it, huh?”

she grins when you nod along with what she’s saying, and through your lust-foggy gaze, you think briefly how hot it is when she smiles like that, lip scar stretching just so.

the thought disappears as quickly as it came, though, because now vi’s pushing the tip of her strap through your folds, moving with ease through the wetness spread through your twitching cunt.

“fuuuuck,” she hisses. her gaze is settled on your spread pussy, watching it drool onto the silicon. there’s something else she’d like to commit to memory.

she plays with you a bit more - she’s always liked to play with her food. you’re whimpering and gasping as she curls her hand around her strap, working it upward from your entrance to the puffy bud of your clit. the slick, wet sounds of each movement go right to her own clit, and she’d be lying if she told you she wasn’t leaking through her briefs right now.

“god, vi, i can’t—” you cut yourself off with a high, drawn-out moan, eyes crossing, because vi’s drawing circles over your clit with the strap.

“please,” you say again. and again, and again - a chorus of “please, please, please” until vi’s finally had enough. she pushes her hips into yours, sinking so deep inside of you that you swear you can feel her in your throat.

“that what you need, princess?” vi asks, voice hoarse. battle-rough hands smooth over the soft curves of your hips, and she digs her thumbs into the flesh to steady herself as she pulls out again, only to sheath herself back into you a moment later. all you can manage is a shaky moan in response, front teeth sinking into your lower lip.

“what was that?” vi says as she slams into you again, repeating the motion in quicker succession. “couldn’t hear you.”

you moan again, back arching off the bed, and this time, vi laughs. but as humorous as she finds your inability to answer, it doesn’t keep her from fucking into you faster, rougher. your cunt opens smoothly around her, takes her like it’s made for this.

“try that again,” vi tells you. she waits for that soft, whiny, pathetic moan again, and when the sound tears from your throat, she chuckles again - then, throwing her head back in a melodramatic imitation of you, she makes that same sound herself. she moans like you do, like you are right now - too fucked out to say any real words.

vi’s still fucking you through her mocking imitation, though. “hear that? s’what you sound like, cupcake. fucking needy.”

your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but there’s another flood of warmth elsewhere - your cunt gushes impossibly wetter. you moan again, trying for that over-exaggerated, pornstar-type sound, and whatever you do works, because vi’s red-faced and lust-drunk. she fucks you into the mattress at a dizzying pace, and all you can do is lie there and take it, moaning and gasping her name, your mouth releasing an endless stream of ah, ah, ah…

and vi mocks you at every opportunity, laughing with that self-satisfied grin on her lips, hips snapping forward to pull more of those sounds out of you.

after, when she’s made you cream on her strap at least twice, she smooths a hand through your hair and kisses that wrinkle between your brows.

“that was hot, you know,” you say, nuzzling into her jawline. she smells like sweat and sex and musk, that characteristically vi scent that’s always so intoxicating. “you mocking me, i mean.”

“figured you liked it,” vi says with a poorly-concealed smirk. “guess i’ll have to humiliate you more next time.”

“shut up.” you shove her away, but when she pulls you back in against her naked chest, smothering you in kisses, you can’t help but beam.

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ sweet, sticky, thick, and pretty ❞

☾₊‧⁺...synopsis : toji wants to give you another baby

☾₊‧⁺...cw : toji fushiguro x fem!reader, smut, penetrative sex, pre-established relationship, overstimulation, unprotected sex, breeding kink, dirty talk, rough sex, begging, smug and cocky reader, feral toji

☾₊‧⁺...a/n : this is a post from my old blog but i revamped it and i really wanted to share this again because i was really proud of it. and yes, it's another breeding kink + pregnant kink. consider it a part two, since it takes place after megumi is born

toji never thought he’d get off on the idea of having another kid with you.

yet here he is, dick hard in his sweatpants as he thinks about you carrying his baby again...how you'd start to fill out all over again, that cute chubbiness coming back, how he'd have an excuse to dote on you whenever you complained about the simplest of things.

it starts off with how he sees you coo over megumi, calling him your sweet baby. you're such a good mother, too, it's clear you'd likely be the favorite parent to that little brat.

but god, does he find it attractive just seeing you be a mom to the kid that he gave you.

the day you ask megumi what he wants for his upcoming 4th birthday at dinner, neither one of you is prepared for the words that come out of your son's mouth.

“i want a baby sister,” he states bluntly as he chews on the steamed carrots, looking at you and toji. it was clear from how confident the little guy is that he's put a lot of thought into this.

“but, i don’t want her to look like daddy. he’s ugly, i want her to look like mommy.”

little brat. you straight up choke, trying to stop the laugh-coughs as toji looks at his son, offended. this really is his son, because who else but you and the kid he made with you could have the nerve to say shit like that to him?

“twerp, you look just like me, you realize that, right?”

megumi huffs, looking at his dad in the cutest little glare. “that’s 'cause i'm a boy, though," he explains as if it's obvious, his precious little cheeks puffed up as he stuffs more of his food in his mouth.

"my sister has to be like mommy. you’d be an ugly girl, daddy.” toji just rolls his eyes, pinching the cheeks of the mini him, ignoring his protests. as the two bicker, you think. would it...really be that bad to have another baby? you always wanted a girl, after all, and toji took such good care of you and megumi...it couldn't be that bad. “well, uhm,” you begin, catching the attention of toji, an unfamiliar smile on your face.

there's a mischievous look on your face right now, his eyes narrowing as he waits for your response. whatever you're about to say is either going to haunt him for the next few days or make him roll his eyes at you.

“i'm sure daddy and i can work something out for you, 'gumi, but let’s think of some other things, too, m'kay?” 

ah.

you went the haunting route.

ignoring the little cheer his son let out, toji can't hide the disbelieving look that crosses his face when he processes what you just said.

'daddy'?

you've said the word, sure, usually when you talk to megumi about him. but something was different about how you said it, the way you looked at him when you said it, the barely visible flutter of your eyes...a silent promise there'd definitely be a deeper conversation about it later.

the very day megumi has a sleepover with the neighbor's kid, yuuji, toji is mentally cheering. he loves his son with all his heart, he truly does, but having a toddler in bed meant limited contact with his pretty wife.

it's only been 3 days since that little comment you made and it's been on toji's mind constantly. every time he tried to bring it up with you, megumi would interrupt and toji was not being the reason his son ended up traumatized because he overheard mommy and daddy talking about making babies in the kitchen.

"bye, gumi! make sure you behave for mr. nanami, okay? have fun with yuuji," you coo as you press two kisses to your son's cheeks, snapping toji back to the present.

"see ya, kid, be good," toji says, giving a nod of acknowledgement to nanami. megumi barely says goodbye before he runs after yuuji to the car, his run a bit awkward because of his overnight backpack.

waving goodbye to nanami, you shut the door, turning to look at toji with that smile as you.

"hi, toj."

you think you're so cute, don't you?

"hey, mama."

toji can't even lie, you are. wearing his t-shirt and sweatpants? yeah, your the cutest thing he's ever laid eyes one. his hands rest on your hips, pulling you flush to his chest. fuck, you weren't even doing anything but he could already feel himself getting hard just from looking at you.

he's never been so whipped in his life.

"d'you wanna talk," you murmur lowly, your finger running over the thin silver chain on his neck. "we could go to the bedroom...and talk about the baby thing."

toji's eyes darken at the suggestion, knowing exactly what would happen the moment you both go into the bedroom. "yeah. think it's 'bout time we talked about it," he hums as he grips your wrist, tugging you to your room.

as soon you both step foot into the bedroom, toji hungrily presses your lips against his, letting out a deep groan. "had me thinkin' about knockin' you up again all fuckin' week, mama," toji sighs against your lips, tongue running over your lower lip.

"wanted to stuff you full so fucking bad."

feeling you sigh so prettily into the kiss, his doesn't hesitate to shove his tongue in your mouth, hands busying themselves as they push your (his) sweats down off your hips before guiding you back to the bed.

you knew he would get excited over your comment, but you didn't think it would be to the point where he was rutting into you as he practically devoured you, feeling your back hit the bed.

“you want to give our 'gumi a sister? wanna be a mommy again," he questions, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against yours. one of his hands slithers up under the oversized t-shirt to cup one of your tits and roughly knead it, his thumb just barely grazing over your nipple.

"wanna have another kid with big, bad toji? tsk, poor cunt missed gettin' stuffed full of cum?" 

you just hum a little breathless. your hand comes up to cup his cheek, looking from his lips back up to his eyes. he's so handsome when he's over you like this, his chain dangling right in your face.

“maaaaybe. megumi just made me think about it, 's all. you've been a good dad t' him, how could i not want to give you another one,” you coo, guiding him closer so you can press a kiss against the scar on his lip. 

“besides…”

toji grunts when he feels your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him flush against you so you can feel the thick, heaviness of his arousal through his sweatpants.

“don’t you want me to make you a daddy again, toji? c'mon, knock me up, big guy.”

after those words leave your pretty little mouth, toji is on you as he realizes that you're 100% going to give him the worse breeding kink ever.

"'m gonna fuckin' ruin you," he growls into your ear. you aren't given a second to protest before he's ripped your panties off, complaints falling on deaf ears. the tips of his fingers gently run over your puffy pussy lips, your slick wetness coating his fingers.

"fuck, mama, you're soaked already." his eyes are focused on your face as you squirm and whimper when he swirls little circles into your clit, an evil smirk on his face. "can't wait to fill you up 'til you're dripping with my cum, doll."

you can't stop your hips from trying to grind into his hand, eyes rolling back when he teased your entrance. "toji, c'mon, baby, i need you s'bad."

"baby, you know you can't take me without prep," he coos at you. he can feel how hot and slick you are, finally, finally slipping two of his fingers inside your cunt. and oh, the way you arch your back a little bit with a pleading whine of his name is so, so pretty, you're so fucking cute.

"mmn, maybe y'don't need prep, you just sucked my fingers right in," he says huskily before pressing a little kiss to the corner of your mouth. "you wanna try, mama? wanna see if you can fit my cock in you? really gonna feel that stretch, though, babe," toji warns, knowing you can't give a sensible answer when he starts pumping his fingers in and out.

when it seems like your about to answer him, the only thing that escapes your mouth is a shaky moan, his thick fingers curling to hit just the right spot inside of you that has you gushing. unable to form words, you tug on his shirt and nod frantically, just wanting to feel toji stuffing you full.

"yeah? you wanna try?" toiji pulls his fingers out of you, chuckling when you whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness. he pops his fingers in his mouth, cock throbbing at the addictive taste of your cunt on his tongue. "c'mon, we're both wearing too much, let's get you outta that shirt, ma."

you waste no time throwing the shirt off, not even giving him the chance to undress you. but once your shirt is off, you're practically ripping off his stupid black t-shirt that made his pecs look fucking delicious and those damn sweatpants and boxers that hid your prize.

as you fuss over his boxers, toji takes a moment to look at you spread out on the bed before him. you still had a bit of chub on you, tummy nice and soft and cute, just how he likes it. if he knew where his phone was, he'd take a picture of you right now; frustrated, horny, naked, and pretty. all for him.

"tojiiii, stop staring and kick off your stupid boxers, you're getting on my nerves!"

you can't even look him in the eye as you say that because you're too busy staring right at his cock, a thick bead of precum formed at the tip. the lick of your lips told him everything he needed to know, but he wasn't fucking your mouth, not tonight at least.

"what? i can't look at my own wife," he asks with a raised eyebrow, biting back a laugh when you swat at his hand that pinches one your puffy nipple. "tch, so rude, doll."

before you can snap back at him, he brushes the swollen head of his cock against your slick folds, smearing your wet over the tip. that shuts you up quickly and toji has to hold back another laugh. always so fussy until he finally gives you what you want. he's spoiled you rotten.

"toji," comes a soft whine, so soft he nearly misses it. your eyes are focused between your legs, lower lips between your teeth as he teases you with his cockhead. you huff, pushing your hand against his chest to give you enough space to shift positions, knowing exactly what would get him to stop teasing you.

once you roll over, you shift so that you're face down, ass up, you hand slipping between your thighs to spread your sticky pussy open, slick dripping down your fingers. "tojiiii, please? please, baby, stop teasing an' put a baby in me...please, hubby, give your wife what she wants."

any other whines or begs are interrupted when his hand comes down hard on your ass. he was going to give you what you wanted, what you both wanted. he was going to fuck you, fill you up with all his cum and whatever leaked out? he’d make sure to push it back in, whether with his fingers, mouth, or tip of his dick. 

when he finally pushes into you, he just lets out the most wrecked groan you’ve heard from him yet, each inch sinking into you stretching those tight walls just a bit more.

"holy shit...fuuck me, baby, too fucking tight, you're strangling my cock," he hisses, fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he gave you inch after inch.

god, just the thought of fucking you not just to feel good, but to fill you up, get you to take his seed deep inside to give him another kid? it's fucking with his head, his wife was gonna be the death of him.

both of you moan once he's all the way inside. you feel so full, his cock is too fucking big it doesn't make any sense and you genuinely think you should've let him fully prep you...but shifting your hips just a little bit has his tip pressing against something sinful. you whine and reach back to grab at one of his hands on your waist, turning to shoot him a mean glare as you demand, “stop stalling n’ knock me up, toji." 

who is he to deny what his wife asks?

using a hand to steady himself on the headboard, his hips begin to move slowly, pulling out just an inch and pushing forward again. "so tight 'n' warm..." each thrust hits deeper and more powerful than the last as toji begins to pick up speed, the thickness of his cock hitting every deep part of you.

it's almost too much, but you don't want him to stop, especially not when toji started running his mouth.

“shit, look at you, baby…takin’ it like a champ.”

now you really wish you stayed on your back, then at least you could've slapped a hand over his mouth to shut him up. you drop your head down against the mattress with a moan, starting to move your hips to match his thrusts, the room filling with the sound of skin slapping on skin.

“fuuck, c'mon, throw that ass back on me, thaaaat’s it, good girl.” 

he starts pounding into you harder when he feels you tightening up on him. the sweet moans and adorable words of “gimme more,” “baby, please,” or “s’ too good, toj,’” only pushing him to get even deeper, to get you to cum so he could stuff you full.

he coos when he sees you starting to scramble up further on the bed, away from his relentless fucking. he knows that he found that sweet spot that would have you creaming in minutes.

"tsk, you just never fuckin' learn, huh? 's always gonna be too much for you, isn't it," he huffs as his hand finds its way into your hair, tugging your head back to keep you from moving more. “hey. hey, nonono, don’t run away from it, lemme have it," he coos at you, following you up the mattress.

you never change, always swearing up and down that you wouldn't run from his cock, that you'd be able to take him. you wanted this, you wanted your precious husband to fuck another baby into you, t'give 'gumi a little sister, s’ i’m gonna give it to you.”

toji may sound like he’s still put together, but he’s just thankful you can’t see his face since yours is pressed into the pillows at the top of the bed.

you can’t see how he’s barely holding himself together, trying his hardest not to let himself go too much. the last thing he needs is to cum before you, knowing that while you wouldn’t mind, he’d be annoyed for breaking his streak.

he’s brought back into the present when you manage to turn your head a little, able to look him in the eye, and god, does he love what he sees.

your mouth is open as you moan for him, eyes lidded and focused on only him. he sees the little tears gathered in them, not quite spilling over but the fact that they’re there tells him he’s the one making you feel that good. 

“tuh-toji, ’m gonna cum, gonna cum—!”

"yeah?" hearing you moan so sweetly for him only makes toji smirk, fingers digging into your hips as he helps you meet each thrust. “gonna make a mess f'me already? poor little cunt can't handle gettin' fucked so good? mmn, shit, 's okay, baby. let go for me, mama, cum on daddy’s cock.” 

"t-tojiiiii," you shakily moan, nearly ripping the sheets as you cum suddenly. it was his voice, the way he tried to sound put together but you could hear how desperate he was to feel your pussy clamp down on him and get his cock nice and messy.

toji's deep, guttural moans mix with your cries when he unexpected is pushed over the edge, the way you desperately grinded back against him causing him to swear under his breath as he lost his pace, groaning your name as he emptied into you. it felt so hot, the pulsating warmth of his tip nudging against your cervix paired with his thick cum filling you up dizzying the both of you. 

you expect some kind of snarky comment from toji, trying to catch your breath so you could reply when he said it. but nothing comes (you have to stop yourself from laughing at the pun). you turn to look back, sighing when toji pulls out of you. usually he stayed inside, leaning down to tease you for cumming so fast...but he didn't.

something was wrong and for some reason, you felt like your pussy was in danger.

“toj…?”

he didn’t answer. he probably didn’t even hear you, not with the way he was looking so intensely at the mess between your thighs. the mess he made. toji doesn’t know what comes over him, his hands practically moving on their own as he moves you over onto your back, then moving his hands down to your sensitive hole and spreading. 

the scene in front of him just breaks him. you let out a soft whine, hips gently rolling into his hands. his eyes stay stuck between your legs—sharp and focused—as they watch the thick globs of his hot cum drip out of your hole and down onto the bed sheets.

the groan that leaves him is sinful, and once you make eye contact with him, you realize how fucked you are. he’s hard again, almost making you believe he didn’t cum if it weren’t for the creamy sheen of his cum on his throbbing dick and the hotness of his dripping out of you. before you know it, toji’s climbing over you, making sure your legs get pushed over to his shoulders as he pushes you into a mating press.

yeah.

you're fucked.

you keep making eye contact, and now that he’s so close to you, you see how crazed he looks. his eyes, completely black due to his blown pupils, have an unhinged look in them, and the half smirk on his face only makes you worry about your ability to walk the next day.

“t-toji, if you need a break to calm down, then-oh!” 

he shuts you up by pushing himself inside you, loving how your eyes cross so prettily. he has you now, you can't run away from the overstimulating feeling of him fucking you in this position. and when you feel his hands come up and lock together on your head to really keep you in place, you feel yourself gush all over his cock at the simple display of how strong he was compared to you.

you're so fucked.

all you can do is moan and cry out his name, hands grabbing whatever part of him they could reach. but he doesn't let you break eye contact, keeping you close to his face so he could see every little expression. and fuck, does he like what he sees.

“t-tojiii, t’ deep, t’ deep!”

“wan’ me t’ stop? t’ stop fuckin’ this messy hole?”

“fuck, y-you stop, and I’ll c-choke the shit out of yo-ouh!”

“that’s it, take it, take daddy’s cock, mama, lemme breed you.”

everything about this position is driving both of you crazy.

the closeness has you reeling, the way toji just cannot bring himself to break eye contact, needing to see what he was doing to you.

his thick cock is hitting deep, almost too deep, with the way each thrust of his hips causes the tip to press into the sweet spot inside you every. single. time. 

he has you for the whole day and the whole night, he's going to make sure you're stuffed entirely and doesn't plan on stopping until either you tell him you need a break or until he can't cum anymore. and even then, he doesn't think anything will be able to get him out of your cunt.

but with the way he just moaned into your mouth, thick spurts of more cum coating your insides…and the way he didn’t get soft, instead pressing you even deeper into the mattress as he began to pound into you with a groan of how much he loved your pussy…

you were sure it would be a while until he was done with you.

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[choslut]

# PUSSY TALK !! (vi x reader)

$YNOPSIS. you’ve been feelin’ a little insecure about yourself lately. good thing you have a girlfriend who’s head over heels for you, no matter what! // wc. 2.4k

warnings. insecure!reader, talk of body image + weight, face sitting, spanking (ass + clit), praise, dirty talk, stripping, oral sex, size kink (?), teasing, fingering, begging, squirting, overstimulation, mirrors, awkward aftercare, spooning, pet names

NSFW below the cut. minors, stay away. enjoy your read!

Dresses aren’t your favourite piece of clothing. They never have been and they never will be, and even as you stare at yourself in the floor length mirror of your bedroom, you absolutely hate how this dress looks on you.

When you asked for something flared that would hide your curves, you didn’t expect your tailor to make you look like an overstuffed cream puff. The flared sleeves hang off of your arms like misplaced scraps of fabric, and the material pools at your feet, surrounding you in an unceremonious circle. You look frumpy, you feel frumpy, and nothing in the world could have convinced you that this is the dress you were going to wear to the annual Councillor’s Gala.

“What the fuck…” You turn around to inspect the back, and it’s even worse than you thought. It seems as if the tailor has attempted a daring backless design, but to you, it just looks like a gaping hole, the fabric tight and loose in all the wrong places before messily accumulating just above the apple of your ass. It looks horrible, and if you weren’t insecure enough, this dress makes you feel like a laughing stock. 

And that’s when the dreaded words come out of your mouth. “I seriously need to lose weight.”

Someone doesn’t like that, because out of nowhere, you feel a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist and a sharp chin on your shoulder. “And why’s that? I think it looks perfect.” 

Vi loves seeing you in dresses. She thinks they make you look so graceful, no matter what shape you choose. It solidifies the fact that you are her perfect princess, and she will never understand why you hate them when they make you look so pretty. 

She also doesn’t understand this whole weight thing you have going on. If anything, one of the things that first had her on her knees for you was your body, and like now, she always feels a need to be touching it, whether it be stroking your thighs or kissing your collarbone or, like now, wrapping her arms around your perfect waist and pulling you into her chest. 

“‘M not perfect though, Vi,” you grumble, hands running along the sides of your chest and resting over where her hands cradle your tummy. “I look like a creampuff.” 

“Creampuffs are sweet. I like creampuffs,” she says, her eyes making contact with yours in the mirror as she noses your neck. “I like you.”

You roll your eyes and whine. “I know you like me, Vi. But that’s not gonna change the fact that I hate this dress.” 

“Take it off then.” She says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world, like you’re not going to be stuck in it for three whole hours, playing the part of a member of high society whilst trying your hardest to ignore the obvious stares at the atrocity which is your outfit. You want to tell Vi that it seriously isn’t as easy as that, but you’re distracted by her hands slipping into the open back of your dress. 

“I can help you,” she whispers in your ear, and you can feel the cold metal of her nose piercing against your heated skin. “Take it off, I mean. Relax.” 

“Vi…”

“Can we try something?” She begins to kiss your neck slowly, and you whimper when you feel the rough scar on her lip brush against your heated flesh. “I know you’ve been feeling some way about your body lately, and to be honest, I have no idea why because your body is already so fucking perfect…” Her hands slide up the insides of your dress, and you lift your shoulders automatically as she slips those god awful sleeves off of your shoulders. “There’s something I want you to do for me.”

After all this time, she hasn’t broken eye contact once, and you notice her eyes go dark when she shoves the front of your dress down, only to find your perky nipples staring right back at her. “What is it?” 

“Sit on my face,” she states simply, hands coming round to rub at your tits. “I want all of it, baby. Your whole body. I want you to fuckin’ suffocate me.”

You probably will. You stare at your girlfriend in the mirror incredulously, because there’s no way in the universe that you’re going to sit on her face. Not in a million years, and certainly not today. “No.”

“Give me one good reason why not.” She has a point, because it’s getting increasingly hard to refute her when her hands are making their way underneath the front material of your dress, letting it drop to the floor and revealing your regulation panties. “Go on, give me one good reason why you shouldn’t sit on my face.” Before you can open your mouth to protest, Vi smiles and bites your shoulder. “And your weight is not a valid answer.” 

You raise your eyebrows. “Violet.”

“Yes, baby?” She acts like nothing is wrong, like asking you to crush her skull in between your legs a couple hours before the most important event of the year is a completely normal request. And she continues to act this way, even when she slips her hand into your panties, fingers eagerly in search of your clit. “So what I’m hearing is you don’t want to sit on my face, and you don’t want me to make you feel so good that you forget all about this stupid dress and that stupid gala?” 

Your back arches into her chest when she starts rubbing your clit in small circles, lips widening into a smile as she watches you unravel against her. “That’s not what I said.” 

“So why are you acting like you don’t want it?” She’s taunting you now, fingers halting all movement on your clit and sliding down lower, tips starting to tease your quivering hole. “Because I know you want it, baby. She’s telling me you want it.” 

You hate how Vi can read you like a book. You do want this, but you’re worried, and she makes sure to eliminate of all of that worry by slipping her fingers into your cunt, mouth dropping open in wonder when you begin to crumple against her.

“Vi, please.” 

“No.” Stubborn. “You’re not cumming unless you’re where you're supposed to be, princess. My game, my rules, and no amount of that pretty begging is gonna change that.” 

You bite your lip as you feel her palm grind against your clit, fingers speeding up and continually assaulting your sweet spot. It’s so hard not to beg her to let you cum, especially with the way she’s holding eye contact with you so intensely. 

“Say the words, and that orgasm’s yours,” she mumbles, smile ever present as her fingers alternate speeds. “Come on baby, I know you can.”

You can, you will, and you do. Your pleas to cum are replaced with nonsensical begging and whimpering, your hands futilely clawing at her biceps as you try to rip her fingers away from your weeping hole. “I’ll do it, I’ll do it, just let me cum, Vi, please-”

All of a sudden, the pressure building up inside of you dissipates, and you notice Vi licking her fingers clean as she backs towards the bed. “That’s what I like to hear,” she laughs, sitting down on the bed in a way that has you weak in the knees. “Come take a seat, princess.” 

Embarrassingly enough, that’s all it takes to have you stepping out of the pool of fabric on the floor and crawling onto the bed towards her, legs planted on either side of her hips as you bend over and catch her lips in a heated kiss. It’s loud and it’s messy, her hands sliding up your thighs and onto your covered ass as you grind down onto her knee, tongue intertwining with hers in a clash of passion and need. 

“Good fucking girl,” she groans, squeezing the flesh of your ass before slapping it hard, drawing a quiet gasp from your lips. “Come on, baby, c’mere, come sit.” 

Your hands splay the surface of her chest as you push her back onto the bed lightly, chest heaving gently with every heated breath you take. Vi looks up at you like you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, because to her, you are, and she wouldn’t want to be underneath anyone else. 

“There she is,” she whispers as you situate yourself comfortably on her chest. “My pretty girl, huh?” 

“I’m nervous,” you mumble, hips beginning to move slowly as you plant your hands on either side of her head. “I… don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Trust me, you won’t.” She captures your hips in her strong hands and pulls you further up her body, letting you hover just above her collarbone. “I’ve lifted this perfect body with my own two hands before. What makes you think a little face sitting will hurt me?” 

In a way, she’s right. Vi is strong, more so than most people. If it got too much, she would be able to move you effortlessly, and-

You’re pulled out of your train of thought by the feeling of Vi’s nose nestling in between your legs, rubbing up against your pulsing clit under your panties. “Vi…”

“You’re thinkin’ too much, baby,” she groans, voice muffled in between your thighs. “Just do it.” This time, she doesn’t leave you any time to think, because she’s now mouthing at your cunt through your panties, strong arms wrapping around your thighs and pulling you ever closer. You gasp in surprise, one hand coming up to grip onto the headboard as you fight not to lose balance. 

Another thing about Vi: she’s impatient. And when you hesitate to begin moving your hips, she does it for you, fingers pulling the seat of your underwear to one side and arms pushing you down hard. 

“She’s so wet, baby, I don’t know how you can say you don’t want this.” Her tongue darts out to lick your throbbing clit and you whine, hips stuttering as you stare hazily at the mess of pink hair in between your legs. Vi is staring up at you with lust swirling in her eyes, and you can feel her smile on your cunt as her tongue slides downwards to your entrance. “I mean, she is practically begging me to eat her out. Is that what you want?”

Before you can answer her, you’re caught off guard by her hand slapping at your clit playfully, sending pleasured shockwaves throughout your system. “ ‘M not talking to you anymore, silly,” she laughs, thumbs rubbing at the area she just assaulted. “I’m talking to her, since my girl doesn’t seem to know what she wants anymore.”

“Stop it,” you grumble, but Vi pays no notice, resuming her languid licks on your pussy. Your protests are quickly turned into prolonged whines and whimpers of her name, the pressure once taken from you beginning to build in your core with each shallow thrust of her tongue into your hole. 

“Not until she’s satisfied, angel.” And she means it, because the grip she has on your thighs is nothing next to lethal, and you feel yourself begin to shake as the pressure builds more and more. “And she’s getting close, don’t you think?”

She is. Your head begins to swim and you tangle your fingers in Vi’s hair in an attempt to stabilise yourself but it proves futile, mouth dropping open as you beg her to let you finish. “Vi, please, please, I’m sorry, I-”

“Nothin’ to apologise for, angel, you’re doing a great job.” You have no idea how she still manages to speak when she’s being all but crushed in the trap that is your quivering thighs, but her voice drives you ever closer, your hips grinding down onto her happily awaiting tongue as you chase your orgasm desperately. You want it- no, you need it, and when she begins to massage your ass sensually, you think you might just squirt.

“Vi...”

“Yeah, baby? Is she telling you something?” She loves playing this game, delaying your orgasm as long as possible whilst making it impossible to hold yourself back. It feels like her hands are everywhere because suddenly her thumb is massaging your clit, and you’re begging her like there’s no tomorrow.

She seems satisfied by your begging, because she takes one arm off of your thigh to use her fingers to fuck your needy cunt. “Cum for me baby, c,mon. Give it to me.”

And give it to her, do you, and in gracious abundance at that. Your juices drench her face unceremoniously as you twitch above her, spine shaking as you hold on to her hair for dear life. You’re all but riding her tongue, and she’s moaning profusely into your cunt, the vibrations only heightening your sensitivity. And try as you might, you can’t pull her away, her mouth a suction as she pushes you unforgivingly into overstimulation.

When you’re all but ready to surrender your stability to her relentless assault in between your legs, you feel a strong pair of hands lifting you off of her mouth gently, and light kisses being littered all over the expanse of your thighs. Vi’s mouth travels along your skin lazily, her powdery blue eyes looking up at your shaky form with nothing but love etched into her irises. You barely begin to register the sweet praises she gives you, instead basking in the afterglow of your intense climax mixed with the feeling of her hands stroking your back.

Moments later and you’re laying down on the bed next to her, curled in a foetal position as you fight the army of sleep threatening to overthrow you. “Are you tired?”

“Mhm.”

“Why don’t you… skip the gala? Stay here with me, I’ll cook, and…”

You think the difference between the Vi laying next to you now and the Vi who made you climax to the brink of passing out is a cute one. She’s never been too good with aftercare, instead trying to make awkward conversation in an attempt to divert from the fact that she just rocked your world in more ways than one. “We can stay home. I’ll tell the organisers I wasn’t feeling too well.” That, and the fact that god awful dress made you want to bust a nerve.

Vi smiles at you gently, and you wish you could stay like this with her forever. “Sounds good. I’m looking forward to it.”

© this work belongs to choslut. do not copy, translate, repost or feed my work into any regenerative ai system.

main masterlist

[nereidprinc3ss]

bambi

in which spencer reid and fem!reader fuck like they missed each other (because they always do) and he teases her for her shaky legs

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom spencer, piv sex (riding, a first for nereidprinc3ss) /oral f receiving (in that order) mentions of him accidentally grabbing her hips too hard, slight somno SORT OF like he starts going down on her while she’s sleepy and then she kind of goes in and out but its all consensual, sorry haters i fucking love sleepy sex and I always will, teasing, lots of praise, fluffy, established relationship, he loves her badddd, aftercare, literally nothing bad happens no angst for once they just are having sex cause they are in love which is arguably the most superior kind of sex! a/n: I don’t think I’ve ever written smut that is so wham bam thank you ma’am like really we just get RIGHT into it!! also no gif no pics we r going old nereidprinc3ss on this one I hope you loveeee!!!

You roll over onto Spencer and kiss once, long and deep and sweet. He hums into it, too whipped to pretend like he’s got self control or respect, hands finding the soft skin of your bare waist and settling there. 

How it got to this point so quickly, no more than fifteen minutes after he walked through the door, you can’t say. Usually the two of you are a bit more domestic when he gets home from a case, but eight days is a long time to be apart, and the trail of clothing leading from the welcome mat to the foot of the bed attests to that. 

So does the lack of teasing, of begging—at least, a lack up until this point. Right now, there’s only him, patient and content to let you play at being in charge. You pull back and reach down to grab him gently, aligning him at your entrance with a trembling hand. This part, you’re not usually responsible for. 

He assures you with a hand to the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles. “You got it. Slowly.”

You do as he says, brow furrowing in focus as you sink down an inch or two onto him. Spencer’s breathing grows erratic as you take more and more of him, and in a heroic display of overachieving, you take the rest of him at once with nothing but a squeak. He laughs breathily as his fingers dig into your hips. 

“Fuck—I said slow.”

You can’t think. The overwhelm of it all is too much as you crumple forward onto his chest. The subtle rocking you’re doing to try and alleviate some of the pressure in your core is apparently too much as he stops you by the hips, fingers pressing into those same tender spots.

Spencer’s breath is ragged. “Don’t… do not move.”

“Fuck,” you breathe into his shoulder, long and drawn out as despite his wishes you wriggle around, trying to get comfortable. “Oh my god.”

“My lovely girl, please… please don’t move,” Spencer gasps, a plead, and you try to stop for him, nuzzling even deeper against his neck. “I need a minute.”

“It’s too much,” you slur, dizzy as you try to adjust to the feeling. “Please.” You don’t know what you’re asking for. Maybe relief from the sensation that he can’t offer you. Maybe more. 

Spencer is undone by you—the way you writhe on top of him, the way your voice shakes, the way you’re so totally and completely overwhelmed and he can feel it and he loves it. 

“Baby,” he breathes, and he meant to say a lot more than that, but it’s the best he can manage when he is this overstimulated. “Baby,” he whispers again, wrapping his arms around you in an effort to ground you, to give you something else to focus on as you both get used to the feeling. 

It’s going well—for a moment, before your back is arching. 

“Spence, I need to move, I can’t—”

“Okay, okay.” He takes a deep breath, returning his hands to your waist and mentally preparing himself not to cum early. He’s desperate to give you want you want, to feel you like this. “Go ahead. Move, honey. Please.”

By the time you slowly lift your hips up and drop back down with a low cry, Spencer’s lost. His head falls back against the pillow and his eyes squeeze shut. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Oh, angel, I missed you.”

You do it again, motivated by his praise, and he can hear your little gasps and desperate gulps of air. 

“I missed you so much,” you whine and clench around him, pleasure so intense it’s a resounding ache in the far reaches of your body. “Oh, fuck, Spencer.”

Spencer shivers. He loves when you make it personal, when you say his name like that and it becomes clear this isn’t just about the physical.

“My girl. Just like that. Doing so well, baby, just like that.”

Each pass of your hips has you whining. Your lips skim over his neck, not cognizant enough to actually kiss—only to know that you want the contact. 

“Please can I go faster?”

Spencer almost doesn’t realize you’re speaking to him he’s so lost in pleasure. The idea of faster is as compelling as it is troublesome. Spencer doesn’t know if he can’t take faster, not when he has you like this, but he certainly wants to find out. 

“Yeah, lovely. Do whatever feels good.”

You readjust and begin to pick up the pace, stumbling over a few false starts as it’s clearly more sensation than you’d been prepared for. 

Spencer, on the other hand, has his eyes screwed shut tight, and is attempting to draw a two-dimensional Császár polyhedron on your back, but he loses his place with every twitch of your hips, so eventually he decides to trace imperfect Mandelbrots down your spine—anything to avoid thinking about how the pH of your body interacts with sweet vanilla perfume to create a scent so deeply intoxicating he’d leave his entire life behind just to trail after it, or how you fucking feel against him, on top of him, around him, how miraculous it is that you keep letting him touch you—

“Oh—” you whine quietly, a strangled sort of noise that has his heart skipping. Your hand tangles desperately in his hair as you rock your hips faster and faster and he lets out a tortured groan. “Spencer, oh my fucking god.”

“I know, baby,” he manages, endeared by the fact that you feel so good you have to share it with him. Even now you’re trying to explain it because you want him to be part of it—as if he doesn’t know exactly what you’re feeling already. “That feels good, huh?”

“Mm—f—eels—” you cut yourself off with a cry into the crook of his neck, and he holds the back of your head, vision greying as he stares unseeing at the ceiling because if he looks down this’ll be over too soon. 

“You’re so good,” he breathes, “you’re perfect.”He hears you gasp at the same time as your rhythm falters, and presses a kiss somewhere indiscriminately on your head. “Gonna cum?” He murmurs in your ear, and you nod desperately, rutting against him hopelessly as your thighs tremble from exertion. 

Even the smallest drop-off in friction has his head spinning like he stood up too quickly, so he gives himself enough leverage to start fucking you. You cry out and shift your weight like you’re going to try and evade the feeling—self-sabotage, you always do this—and he again has to hold your hips in an iron vice, just to force you to feel it. 

“You’re okay, I’m gonna get you there.”

“Fuck!” You very nearly yell, still trying to wriggle away up until the very last second like the tide going out before the tsunami comes. When you do cum, your demeanor instantly changes—you get heavy and clingy and whiny as you rock back and forth through your orgasm. 

“Good girl,” Spencer murmurs, being careful in the way he continues to fuck you until he reaches his peak as well, not long after. You shudder, and Spencer feels the way your entire body tenses the way it sometimes does after a particularly strong orgasm, and he fights his way out of the brain fog to rub your back with the skimming tips of his fingers. “Shh. You’re okay. Relax, baby.”

And you do, unwound by the dance of his hand and with a few shallow breaths that gradually deepen, until you’re once more slack on top of him. 

“You’re incredible,” he exhales, with his lips pressed to your hairline. 

So clearly overwhelmed, the only response you can muster is a soft squeak. Spencer laughs fondly, still mapping the soft curve of your back. He feels the way you’re still attempting to train your breathing and kisses your hair again. “What do you need, angel?”

“I’m s’posed to be taking care of you,” you slur. Spencer chuckles again and his brow knits. 

“According to who?”

“According to… I was on top…”

“Yeah. You did all the hard stuff. Your legs are shaking.”

You whine softly. “No they’re not.”

His hand slides down to your thigh, and he rubs the trembling muscles. 

“No? No Bambi legs for me this time?”

You squeeze them around his waist like you could shrink away from his touch. “Spence…”

“I’m teasing you, honey,” he murmurs, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “You’re cute.”

“Hm.”

“Look at me,” he murmurs, angling his head expectantly as you slowly raise yours. The look on your face is so sweet—eyes half lidded, lips swollen and much higher in color than usual. Your cheek is warm to the touch. His heart flutters like it did on your first date, and the first time he kissed you, and the first time you fell asleep on his shoulder. This view will never get old. “Wow. Look at you, beautiful girl. Can I have a kiss?”

And you grant him his wish, with a long, soft kiss that’s worth every second of that burning feeling in his lungs, every time. 

Eventually you huff out the remainder of your air against his well-kissed lips and your head flops to his chest. 

“I’m sleepy.”

“So go to sleep,” he murmurs, so warm from your kiss he feels nothing could be wrong in the world at this moment. 

“I can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause you just got home ’nd I missed you and I wanna spend time with you.”

“We have three days to spend together. If you go to sleep now, we’ll actually get more time together tomorrow.”

“But it’s more about, like, how it feels—how much time it feels like we spend together right when you get home, and if I go to sleep now, it’s gonna feel like less time, and—basically you’re just not understanding my math.”

“What math?” He laughs, continuing to rub your legs all the way up to your hips, at which point you hiss and buck—a very visceral feeling when he’s still inside of you. “What? What hurts?”

“You tried to fucking tear my hip flexors from my body, is what hurts,” you grumble. 

“Tender?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m really sorry, angel. Tylenol?”

“Mm-mm. Can you kiss me better?” Sleep stains your voice. Spencer smiles to himself. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Lie down.”

Again you whine as you slip off of him, landing heavily on your back. He sits up, watches with so much affection the way you squeeze your thighs together and arch ever so slightly against the empty feeling. 

“Spencer?” You whisper as he cups the top of your knees. 

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He pushes your legs apart gently so he can settle in between them and kisses you again. “I love you. So much.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

He presses a kiss to your head, down your neck, taking the scenic route to your hip bones, but you don’t seem to mind. 

The feeling of his lips gentle on the tender flesh has you humming softly, eyes fluttering shut as he showers you with gentle kisses. His traces every place his fingers had pressed earlier—feels the way you relax further underneath him. Nobody’s ever let him in this deeply before, but you trust him with everything you have; your body, your soul, in life or death, awake and in sleep. He’ll never take that for granted. He will never pass on an opportunity like this, to be the one who takes care of you, who puts you back together, as long as you’ll let him. 

Still dancing the line of consciousness, you part your legs, the slow drag of your bare thigh like a jumper cable to his heart. Fingertips trace desirous paths up your inner thigh and back down again. He recognizes this invitation for what it is, and he knows exactly how to give you what you want, but he asks first anyway. 

“Was that on purpose?”

“I d’know what you mean. I’m so sleepy,” you slur, and he believes the second half of your statement to be fact. 

Spencer pushes your thigh a little higher, and you’re completely pliable for him, completely gorgeous. As soon as he skims your thigh with a barely-there kiss, exactly the way you like, you’re lacing a hand in his hair. 

“Please, Spence…” you murmur, and he can’t argue with that. He especially can’t argue when you widen your legs just that slightest bit more, and your arousal is opalescent between your legs. 

He hums, trailing more kisses up until he’s setting the softest one yet against your clit. “Beautiful girl…”

The following gasp is so tiny he could’ve missed it if he wasn’t so attuned to your noises—and then he gets lost in you, making sure to keep his ministrations light as you already came twice recently and are sure to be sensitive. He doesn’t want to wake you from whatever twilight half-slumber trance you’re in, either, sensing that if he does you’ll fight all over again to stay up.

And admittedly, he adores being trusted to take care of you like this.

Your back arches as much as you’re capable of in this state, and he can’t help the way he just barely suctions onto you at that moment, coaxing a sighing moan so sweet and vulnerable and open it gives him chills. Fuck. He really wants to make you cum. But instead he practices patience, tracing you with the tip of his tongue, pressing gentle kisses everywhere you need them—he draws it out. For he doesn’t know how long. 

The first time you get close, your hips begin to roll, and you spout little ah’s, but he talks you back down again, laughing lightly at your angelic cooing, your little sounds of sleepy pleasure. Even now you’re so responsive, moving against his mouth as he slips a finger into your soaked entrance, fucks you for a moment, and then retreats. Maybe he’s being unfair, but you don’t seem to mind. 

In fact, you’re slipping in and out of sleep as he devours you for what feels like hours, one hand pressed lovingly to your stomach, stroking the soft skin there. Spencer’s never had this long to explore you with his mouth and he takes full advantage of every moment, but he keeps all his kisses and licks and touches gentle and reverent and so loving. 

You don’t know how long it’s been, or how many times he’s made you cum when he finally retreats—you half-wake just as he’s finishing cleaning you up. Soon he tosses the towel aside and presses feather-light kisses to each of your cheeks, tear-stained and warm with pleasure. You feel completely drained and completely loved. 

“Hi, sleeping beauty,” he murmurs, climbing into bed with you, at some point having gotten dressed. 

You manage an embarrassed little laugh. More tears crawl down your cheeks as you roll to your side. Spencer brushes them away and pulls you into him, slinging your thigh over his waist. He chuckles. 

“Shaky?”

“Stop,” you whine, embarrassed by his teasing, and hide your face against his chest. “That’s not my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. It’s sweet,” he insists as he rubs your back. And then, a moment later, “So—do you think we’ve spent enough time together for tonight?”

“No.”

He sighs good-naturedly. 

“You’re gonna wear me out, you know that?”

“’F you… can’t handle the heat… get outta the kitchen.”

When he next speaks you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Go to sleep, Bambi. Let’s see if you can walk in the morning.”

[subbmissivesuccubus]

Oh God. You were going to die. This was it. It wasn't demons or Muzan that take you in the end. It was your damn husband and his insatiable lust and stamina.

Lying face down on the bed, you panted against the mattress, your face a mess of tears and sweat, hair sticking to your forehead, eyes rolled up and cheeks painted a bright red. Behind you, tugging at his cock and eager for round...whatever the next number- was your husband.

Maybe you shouldn't have riled him up the way you did. You know how possessive he can be so why on Earth did you purposefully get him jealous by flirting with another man? Oh, right. Because you wanted to get fucked rougher. Well, you got what you wanted and now you're going to die.

You jumped as you felt the familiar sensation of a fat cock press against your entrance, your stuffed cunt instantly begging for mercy. You swore that if he fucked you one more time- made you cum one more time- filled you with his seed even one more time- you'd see the pearly white gates call for you.

You gripped onto the bedsheets and pulled yourself away, your body working on autopilot as your husband had successfully fucked the brain cells out of you. You heard him chuckle as you tried to crawl away, your body feeling like jelly, your arms and legs numb and barely capable of getting you to the edge of the bed before:

A pair of hands grabbed you by the hips and dragged you back, laughing at your whine of protest. Uzui reeled his hand back and smacked you across your already beaten ass before he spread your legs and gave an equally painful spank to your pussy, making you scream. "Now, what made you think that was a smart idea? Try running away again and see what happens."

Obanai lets you think you escaped before he grabbed you by the ankles, ignoring your cries as he pulled you back towards him. He flipped you onto your back like you weighed nothing, making you squeal as he took a nipple between his fingers and twisted, your back arching off the bed. "Are you trying to piss me off even more?"

Just as you reached the edge of the bed, wondering if you could make it, you felt Rengoku press himself against your back and- oh- fuck! He slid right inside you! You gasped as the man pushed his cock in with one fell swoop, taking your breath away as he instantly started moving his hips, preferring to fuck you where you were instead of dragging you back. "Get comfortable, baby. I'm not done with you."

Sanemi caught you the second you tried to move, simply reaching forward to grab a fistful of your hair and pull harshly. You yelped as your neck was forced to snap back, your back arching as your husband pulled at your hair, his other hand looping to the front to grab you by the neck before he leaned towards your ear and growled: "I'm going to give you a choice. I can fuck you here, on the bed, or I chase you and fuck you where I catch you and trust me, I won't be as nice."

Gyomei didn't say anything, even as you got off the bed and onto your wobbly feet. You wondered if you could just leave when he said, in his booming voice: "Are you sure that's what you want to do?" You froze, body trembling. Why was one sentence enough for you to rethink your whole lives decisions? You didn't know what Gyomei meant by it, but you knew it probably wouldn't be fun. With a gulp, you climbed back onto the bed before getting in front of your husband. You spread your legs wide as you lay down in front of him, reaching down to grab at his fat cock and press it against your entrance. The man smiled as he slowly started to sink inside your familiar heat. "Good girl."

Giyuu grabbed you by the legs and pulled you back while also changing his own position. To your horror, you found yourself slung over his knee, a predicament you just experienced an hour before which was why your ass was a bright red already. You started apologizing profusely, kicking your legs like a toddler but your husband simply ignored your pleas and held you down, the task quite easy for him even if one arm of his was free to do the spanking. "It seems one round wasn't enough to discipline you. Guess we have to go again."