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subskz · 1 year ago

Text

…i lost the tag limit war

the reader changing the subject the instant she feels seen by minho is such a subtle but valuable hint that i think says a lot abt the type of person she is, that moment really stood out to me! i know i literally just said this but right down to every minute detail, you've characterized both lino and the reader so masterfully it has to be the most enjoyable aspect of this story for me...and on top of that i just love how you write their conversations so much, they’re both such lil nerds…my intellectually stimulating smarties debating w each other even now 🥰 it all feels so comfortable and natural and draws me into their relationship w such ease!

their discussion abt colors is hands down one of my favorite scenes in all of invisible thread!! it's such an oddly heartwarming conversation and that perfect, out-of-the-box way of thinking that’s just so undeniably minho...it almost reminds me of synesthesia how he describes feelings through color! "the very essence of our humanity" "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean" the way you embodied each colors through emotions/experiences was so wonderfully done, i understood each one instantly like it was a picture being visualized before my eyes. it makes it even more touching that minho and the reader come to understand each other on a whole new level through that way of communicating their moods <3 and for some reason when he gives the example "i feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to" that really tugged at my heartstrings ㅠ it almost feels like he isnt just giving a hypothetical there, like he's giving a small glimpse into his true feelings without saying it outright. maybe he feels invisible deep down, too

them falling asleep together on facetime was so soft and tender ㅠㅠ leave it to lino to ramble abt sous-vide as a bedtime story and complain abt getting SCAMMED lmao the way that is actually smth he would say 😭 "he closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on" this line got me so good ): it seems at first that he's bringing the reader peace but she's bringing him peace in her own way as well...her feelings abt his eyes changing from fear to longing is such a lovely detail and HER COMPLIMENTING THEM!!! HIS STUNNED REACTION </3 "this is the first genuine compliment he's ever received" oh my god does my moss green theory actually have any merit.....does he really feel invisible to the world too...do not do this to me sahar ㅠㅠ but the way he thinks such lovely, adoring things abt the reader in that moment but instead of voicing them he whines abt being hungry....so endearing and so HIM i cant get enough of how youve written minho here ur singlehandedly reminding me why he is allegedly the love of my life

the kintsugi mention made my heart leap in my chest!!! "when you look at that vase, you know it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty" please...that sentence in itself is so moving when you apply it to the context of what the reader has been through her whole life, not just a single crack but repeated breakages. and for it to come from someone like minho; it feels like exactly what the reader needs to hear to truly begin to heal herself...he doesn't coddle her but is still so gentle, putting things into perspective like nobody else can w his unique worldview and mental strength ㅠㅠ and i think i just lost my mind realizing that this scene loops right back to the clay comparison you drew at the beginning of the story oh my GOD....the reader is like a clay pot molded by her mother, broken in places and repaired over and over to create smth still damaged but just as valuable...and lino is the gold filling in the cracks....sahar you are INSANE for this one im kissing ur brain and tucking it gently into bed

the scene w minho in the rain 😞 i was not prepared to see my meow meow upset...but i love the way you wrote it so much. how oddly quiet he is, even to the point where he's not commenting in class or teasing her, and that's the key detail that lets the reader know smth's off w him...i also love that nothing in particular caused his low mood. it's such a human quality, and he allows himself to be human and feel his feelings until they pass. "he knew his emotions would regulate themselves" i cant explain why this line stood out to me so much i really love it, i think it's just such a shining example of minho's mindset...not necessarily optimistic, but practical enough to not be completely swamped by the darkness either. it creates such an interesting contrast to the reader's personality to see how they both handle their emotions, w her pushing hers away and him letting them run their course. but the fact that he typically tries to retreat into himself until he feels better, yet strangely enough, he doesn't mind it as much as he'd expect when the reader catches him in a vulnerable state...my babies ㅠ i also really loved the part where he uses her shower and thinks abt the scent of her soap as he washes up, it's so so sweet n intimate i'm such a sucker for things like that ): there are so many small things minho notices abt her like it's the most natural thing in the world, they're both so attentive of one another

"you were both just trying to make it through the day" and "he knew he wasn't invisible. at least not to you" were critical hits to my heart...it feels like a breakthrough in their relationship—the first time the reader truly truly sees minho, all sides of him, and she accepts them all without question <3

the gradual progression of their friendship is so gratifying to read bc of how organically you made it all flow together!! i adore the entire sequence that shows us how they start to care for each other more and more…the casual intimacy of the reader applying her lip tint to his lips (and him not studying for his quiz on purpose 😭💗 come ON) lino worrying abt her eating enough, the reader tying his bangs out of his eyes, complimenting him so matter-of-factly, and him BLUSHING ALL OVER THE PLACE it’s so over for me x2 they are so tender in their actions even when they tease each other nonstop. it all leads up so perfectly to the point in the story where minho finds himself being drawn to her apartment without even realizing it when he doesn't feel well. the subtle shift from him initially trying to shut her out bc he's so used to managing his bad days on his own, to him eventually leaning in to her kindness and seeking her company instead...and the way she just understands what he needs immediately, allows him to sit in silence and simply exist in peace next to her. describing his mood as "too much of every color" really struck a chord w me as well...i'm just so so in love w the running theme of colors you included throughout this story, it's such a brilliant way to put emotions into words <3

the lil parallels here n there from the beginning of their relationship until now are so cute as well; how lino makes breakfast for her the first time and leaves before she wakes up, but this time, he promises to stay and eat with her...to not be invisible ㅠㅠ i think what's making me craziest of all is how they're both so hyperaware of each other's touch. like when their shoulders brushed while sharing the reader's umbrella, how the reader suddenly finds it difficult to concentrate on her book when lino holds her wrist as she shields him from the sunlight...and little does she know it's the exact same for him too, like when she rested her head on his thigh and all he could focus on was the sensation of her hair tickling him 😭 they are so enamored w each other and have become so tangled up in each other little by little...they don't even fully realize it yet but they've made a permanent place in each other's lives now

"you were already on the other side, you realize. his eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey" oh my GOD!!! ㅠㅠㅠㅠ her feelings abt minho's eyes changing from fear, to longing, to at last the comfort of getting to see the other side of those black holes...this line hit me like a truck it might be my favorite from the entire fic ㅠ i have a feeling i'll be saying that abt many more lines to come when you verbalize things in the most poetic ways imaginable heheh but this one truly got me so good, the delicacy in which you describe minho makes the reader's growing affection for him all the more heart-fluttering~

minho hesitating to wipe her tears )): the way he's so careful abt touching her in any unwarranted way bc he can sense that she shies away from skinship is so devastatingly sweet...and then him pinching her right after to make her stop crying NEVERMIND I CANT STAND HIM ACTUALLY. but the way he consoles her is so endearing and so so minho...very simple and sincere, he knows her well enough to immediately figure out the best way to take her mind off of the issue instead of dwelling on it. "you didn't care what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it" i've already pointed out so many lines oh my god i'm so sorry but each one is like another arrow through my heart ㅠㅠ i feel like this sentence is such a perfect testament to the reader and lino's relationship; they've both seen each other at their best and worst and it doesn't change anything abt their feelings, they care for each other unconditionally 😞 also the reader being afraid of physical touch bc she craves it is SO heartbreaking but so raw...i think it aligns so well w her past bc she's so used to either being invisible, or only being perceived negatively when she is perceived. it makes perfect sense how terrifying she'd find it to bare herself to minho when her whole life she's been deprived of genuine affection...you've really done such a phenomenal job of characterizing both her and lino i cant say it enough!

now...the entire final scene...where do i even begin...i had a feeling the climax of the story was going to hurt but not like this ㅠㅠ the reader's inner turmoil as she debates reaching out to her mother again, that conflicting mix of hating her yet somehow still missing her...it's such an inexplicable and confusing feeling for ppl who have experienced that kind of neglect but so so real and you captured it so candidly. it really added a whole new layer to the reader's humanity, for her to be unable to completely let go of their relationship no matter how painful it is to hold on to...for her to cling to the hope that maybe she could be worth smth to her mother if she did everything right ): i genuinely had the exact same reaction as her when you revealed that her mother had deleted her phone number...it felt precisely like a bucket of ice cold water to the head. the reader trying to pinpoint the exact moment in time where her mother stopped loving her was what really crushed me most...what a heart-wrenching sentence ㅠㅠ the fact that she's tried to hard to find solace in other places and people and tried to grow into her own person after entering university, but even so, those marks left from her childhood are still there...a vase full of cracks 💔 as much as it hurts to read, i love that you included this bump in the road of her healing journey and made a point to highlight that healing isn't linear

and minho 😭😭😭😭😭 the way he handled the reader's outburst is so touching...the way he's immediately able to recognize that her feelings are misplaced and smth much deeper is going on beyond what he sees on the surface...using that astuteness to put his own feelings to the side in the moment is so minho. this entire scene is just blossoming with powerful lines i can't forget, but i was especially affected by the reader saying "i'd need you and i can't afford to need someone else." it's such a tragic summarization of her in my opinion...how she went her whole life being unable to rely on anyone but herself, so the moment she's faced w minho, all her instincts say to reject it no matter how badly she craves that intimacy ㅠㅠ and lino saying "i'll be by your side for as long as you'll have me" is such a beautiful declaration of love...it's so selfless and unconditional, and it fits so seamlessly w how their relationship progressed throughout the story, how they were by each other's sides at their best and worst moments.

"the world doesn't stop because we need it to" "we'll make it stop" and then describing their kiss as like "seeing color for the first time"...i'm going to melt into an inconsolable puddle over all these callbacks to their first date together don't think i didn't catch the ways you weaved those in throughout this final scene..you made it feel so complete, like things have come full circle. i already mentioned how much i loved their conversation abt describing colors to the blind, so for their first kiss to be written that way, like the reader was blind to the true color of the world until she met minho....i am going to be ill that is so intensely romantic sahar ㅠㅠㅠㅠ

"he was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together." another heartaching line ): what a way to personify the quiet love minho provides...it may be invisible to everyone else, but not to her

i'm so sorry for my horrifically long comment haha but i'm just thrilled i was finally able to read this beautiful fic 😞 just as i'd predicted, you're a phenomenal writer!! the amount of love and effort you poured into it went above and beyond, i hope you're so proud of yourself for creating such a stunning work!! it's very clear to me how every interaction you wrote between minho and the reader was so carefully thought out and so meaningful to the overarching theme of the story, it's all done with care and purpose and there's smth special to be found in each line of dialogue! it's like you carefully stacked more and more on to the foundation of their bond until before we know it, there's an entire home there that they built steadily together. that kind of subtle progression is my absolute favorite thing. i'm also so blown away by how the reader's mother, though never actually making an appearance until the final scene, has such an heavy impact over the narrative. it's like she's a ghost haunting the reader's every action, every decision, every inner thought...i find it so impressive how you were able to incorporate that effect into the story without us even needing to meet the mother! and i must've mentioned countless lines that stuck w me throughout the fic, but just know that there are countless more i could've pointed out as well...you truly write so so beautifully. so poetic and emotive, but also not so flowery that it becomes hard to follow, i'm truly floored by your ability to achieve that perfect balance! on top of the story being so immersive in itself, your writing style made invisible thread such a genuine delight to read <3

this feels like the kind of story i'll be thinking abt for a long time after finishing it, the kind to revisit over n over bc i'm sure there are so many lil easter eggs you included that i may have missed! i'm positive i'll come back to it many times in the future hehe...but i can't wait to read more of your writing as well! ^_^

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

genre : university au, academic rivals to lovers (rivals not enemies because they respect each other), slow burn, fluff, angst.

warnings : reader has a very bad relationship with her mother, insecurities, talk about murder but as a joke, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.

summary : Your studies were your lifeline for as long as you can remember. What happens when Minho comes into your life and rips it away from you?

word count : 20k

Author's note : I've been working on this fic on and off for the past two months, so if you do enjoy reading, please let me know. asks, comments, reblogs i read them all and they truly make me the happiest <3 (also i based this off my own college experience, where we study two terms and there is one person on top of the class every semester)

part two

You have always been first in your class.

Not because you particularly enjoyed studying. You simply felt that your worth was solely tied to the marks on your papers.

You never wanted to crumble under the pressure of studies, to hole yourself up in your room for an assignment you won’t remember in a month. But achieving good grades was the only way for you to feel seen; to make someone stop in their tracks and acknowledge you.

A simple “good job” that you preserved inside your mind, as a reminder that you did exist to other people. Considering that the majority of your life was spent in silence.

Your mom put a roof above your head and food on your table, but she never asked about your day, nor did she seem to care. You felt as though you were no more important to her than the tapestry hanging on your wall.

At times, you imagined that if you stood close enough to that tapestry, you could merge with it as one. The intricate embroidery would wrap around you and draw you in. And your mother wouldn’t notice. She would regard you with the same indifference she showed towards that textile- a mere decoration, at times a nuisance when she had to dust it.

You always ate your dinner alone. When you scraped your knee, you tended to the wound by yourself. No one attended your childhood musicals, and you patted your back when you cracked an egg without dropping a shell into the bowl.

You’ve come to learn since your young age that all your milestones, both small and significant, would be celebrated alone.

On the rare times your mother would acknowledge your presence, she’d unleash a flurry of criticism your way as if she was eagerly awaiting the opportunity to strike you down. She'd toss crude comments over her shoulder as easily as a casual hello, leaving you feeling battered and bruised in her wake.

You felt as if you were shoreline rocks, and your mother was the ocean. You never knew if she would be like a gentle tide, barely brushing against you, or an enraged storm, mercilessly crashing down on your being. And you weren't sure which one was worse: to be invisible or to be seen and despised.

That’s why you grew up plagued with self-doubt. You made friends throughout your school years but you never allowed them to get close enough to really see you -you feared that they might glimpse the very thing your mother seemed to despise in you.

Throughout your childhood, you were like soft clay in your mother's hands- pliable, and easy to mold. And she indented you, everywhere, carved in edges and dips where they should not have been ones. Handled you roughly when you should have been treated with care. And as the years went by, you hardened- much like clay, but her touch remained imprinted upon you. It was difficult at times to discern who you were and who she made you to be.

You tried to start anew when you went away to university; to rewire your brain into believing that you were enough- you exist and you shouldn't prove to anyone that you deserved to be alive. But her words haunted you, they were like skeletons in your closet- but the closet was you. You could never part from them.

So, you fell back into the same pattern of seeking good grades and congratulatory words from your professors. Every A+ you got infused you with a momentary sense of worthiness.

But unlike in high school, you weren't always the best. Your competition came in the form of a single man named Minho, who seemed to excel in every class you shared.

Minho was mostly quiet, but whenever he spoke, you found that his words carried weight. Your professors consistently agreed with his points, and you envied the confidence he exuded. You wondered what it must feel like to be so sure of oneself.

It wasn't until a month into the year that you had your first interaction with Minho. You were in your Constitutional Law class when your professor Kim brought up the notion of ‘Separation of Powers’. You were arguing that judges shouldn’t be included in the writings of law when you heard a scoff from the row behind you. You turned around, raising a brow at the culprit, "Is there something you’d like to say?" you asked.

And in response, Minho smiled lazily, an air of smugness surrounding him, "I just don’t agree." The professor urged him to explain himself, so he leaned back into his chair, eyeing you. "Judges are the ones who practice the law every day, and sometimes they find that none of the written texts fit their case. If they get involved in lawmaking, they can help address those gaps or uncertainties."

"Who's to say that those judges aren’t biased or politically motivated? They’ll end up writing laws to fit their own preferences," you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. "We elect judges to interpret and apply laws, not make them. If they start writing laws too, we'll be violating the separation of powers between the legislative and judicial branches. That's what keeps our entire system from crumbling."

Minho rested his chin on his hand, tapping his cheek thoughtfully with his index finger. "Aren’t legislators prone to biases too? Your point doesn’t stand then," he challenged, tilting his head to the side, "and judges can participate without going overboard. They can provide input on proposed laws without actually drafting them. That way, we ensure that the laws are crafted with a clear understanding of how they'll be put into practice."

"If your main concern is to ensure that the laws are impartial, we have people who work as consulting experts whose job is exactly that," you flashed him an innocent smile, firing back. "Also, wouldn’t these overstepping branches put the judges in a position to be perceived in a bad light? Is that what you want?"

Before Minho could respond, Mr. Kim intervened, putting an end to your debate, "Let's save this energy for your essays and see who can convince me more."

You gave a quick nod, swiveling in your seat without a backward glance. However, you could sense Minho’s gaze penetrating through your back- as if he was trying to read your most intimate thoughts.

That was the first thing you noticed about Minho when he walked over to you. His eyes were brown, not a special color by any means. But they held a certain depth to them that seemed to draw you in like a black hole. You weren't sure what you would find on the other side, nor did you have any desire to find out.

He outstretched his hands towards you, stopping you in your tracks. "Minho," he introduced and your hand met his in a firm grip. The second thing you noticed about him was the coldness of his hand, as it wrapped tightly around your palm.

Suddenly you were taken back to when you built a snowman for the first and last time. You were just seven and the ice was freezing, numbing your fingers as you worked. Your mother never told you that you should’ve worn mittens, or a thick jacket to fight off the cold when she saw you walking out of the house. The memory of your cold hands and the horrible illness that followed still left a bitter taste in your mouth, like an unripe fruit. With a jolt you dropped his hand, forcefully pulling yourself away from that memory.

"Yn," you said back, and he smiled to himself, repeating your name slowly, each syllable dripping from his tongue.

"We'll see who'll write the best essay, right?" he asked, clearly challenging you. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes that reminded you of a child gazing up at cotton candy.

That was the third thing you noticed about Minho; how expressive his eyes were. They moved with his every word, punctuating them.

He was infuriating but also amusing. You've never had a clear competitor in your life. Or maybe you had, but you didn't notice them. You were always so reclined on yourself, trying to survive the day, you didn't pay enough attention to your surroundings.

"You want to compete with me?" You asked, and he smirked, leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. "What? Scared you’d lose?"

"Please." You rolled your eyes at his taunting, "Don’t come crying when I win."

"We’ll see about that!" He shouted after you as you walked ahead, leaving him behind.

This essay was insignificant. A simple way for your professor to assess your knowledge and work approach. And yet, you found yourself staying up all night to complete it. There was no way you were going to let Minho take this one thing from you.

Who were you if not the best in your studies? You were deathly afraid to find out.

Later on that week, the professor handed you your grade back, 98%. You turned around to show Minho your mark, and so did he. You surpassed him, only by mere percents. "I told you so," you smiled cheekily and he pouted, holding a hand to his heart as if your grade wounded him.

"I'll beat you next time", he mouthed and you chuckled, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

✹✹✹

The first time you studied with Minho was in a cat café near campus, called Limbo, about two weeks after your initial interaction. You stumbled upon it serendipitously while strolling through your university town. You couldn’t study at home, since you were easily distracted in there, and the eerie silence of libraries often left you unsettled.

Limbo, however, offered the perfect middle-ground: it was calm, not overly crowded, and the buzzing of the coffee machine blended harmoniously with the occasional mewls of cats, which helped you concentrate better.

You were sitting in a secluded corner table at the café's back, a sleeping black cat comfortably nestled in your lap when you sensed a shadow loom over you. You glanced up quickly to find Minho. He was clad in a grey hoodie sporting a bunny holding up its middle finger. You had to bite your cheek to suppress a grin at his clothing attire.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"You know for someone smart you sure ask stupid questions," you remarked, already looking down at the papers scattered in front of you.

He huffed, taking a seat at the table right next to yours, "I can’t believe that of all places you’ve found this café to study in."

"My apologies, am I disturbing you, your highness?" You asked sarcastically, and in retort, Minho mimicked your words in a high-pitched tone. You threw the pillow right next to you at his head, and Minho swiftly ducked, easily avoiding it. He chuckled loudly while you glared at his laughing figure. That was the end of your conversation that day.

From that moment forward, it became a routine for the two of you to study at Limbo, every Saturday, without fault. You didn’t explicitly plan on it, but it seemed that both of you found it comforting to work there. And you could also tell that, unlike you, it wasn’t Minho’s first time coming to Limbo. He was friends with the owner, a sweet middle-aged man who offered you pastries whenever you stayed there until closing. The cats seemed to know him too, they mewled at his feet whenever he entered and he always greeted them with a soft smile on his face.

You didn’t talk much in those unofficial study sessions, the both of you were consumed by your own work. But you’d steal quick glances at him every now and then, the sight of him so concentrated only fueled you to work harder.

Admittedly, your competition left you feeling anxious for days on end at first. Each time Minho came out on top, you’d found yourself losing your grip. Your studies have been the one anchor keeping you afloat your entire life, and now, Minho was ripping it carelessly away from you. So, you resented him- you were human after all.

But then, you realized that Minho’s taunting wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t competing with you to hurt you, he was doing it for amusement only.

You've slowly started to learn that despite his relentless teasing, Minho had a gentle aura surrounding him. Glimpses of which occasionally emerged like rays of sunshine piercing through a thick cloud cover.

True, he chuckled when you accidentally bumped your head on the table while retrieving a fallen pen. Yet, you also noticed how he began to cover the table's corners with his hand whenever you bent down. He swiftly retracted his hand, seemingly believing you didn't notice, but you did.

During class presentations, he deliberately prepared challenging questions for you, urging you to study twice as hard to ensure no stone was left unturned. Yet, whenever the professor praised your performance, Minho offered a subtle thumbs-up as a gesture of support. He winked at you each time he got the right answer and you didn’t. However, when he noticed you struggling with a particular subject, he scooted closer and patiently explained it to you. He got up before you could thank him, swatting his arm in the air as if he didn’t do anything of significance.

To show your appreciation, you bought him a drink that day he helped you—a simple gesture that sparked an ongoing game of "win a bet, get free food". You bet on who would receive the first mark on an assignment or who would finish an essay first- anything to further deepen the competition between you.

That's how you came to know that he loved puddings, among other things.

Curiously, as the months went by, your mind began to retain these little details about him. How his eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings when he blinked repeatedly during your conversations. How he glanced at the ceiling when lost in deep thought as if he was waiting for the answers to descend from the sky. Or how his lips take on the shape of an "o" while thinking of his response during one of your many debates. But you supposed that it was natural to take notice of such things when you spend countless Saturday afternoons with the same person.

You were still studying for someone else, in the sense that each time you stayed up working, it was solely to prove your worth to Minho. But at least unlike your mother, Minho's words never haunted you at night.

✹✹✹

Just like that, four months have gone by since you joined your university as a law major. It was nearing finals week and you were preparing it at Limbo. Minho was naturally present too, at his usual table right next to yours.

On the last weekend before the beginning of your finals, you were head-deep into your Criminal Law documents when Minho abruptly got up from his seat and settled in the chair in front of you.

"Yn," he whispers and you glance at him, "What?"

"I have an idea."

"Keep it to yourself," you grin sarcastically, only for him to pick up your spoon and move it around in a threatening manner.

"Are you trying to scare me with a spoon?" you chuckle in disbelief.

"Anything can be a weapon if you use enough force."

"Okay… that was creepy. What do you want?"

"The end of the first term is coming up. So, to celebrate our little rivalry-"

"It's not a rivalry if I’m always winning," you cut him off.

"Yeah, that’s why I have a fridge full of pudding."

"But-"

"Anyways, how about the top of the class takes the other out for dinner? A fancy one." He suggests, his gaze fixed on you.

"No, thank you. I already see you enough in classes."

"Didn’t think you wouldn’t up for a bet. Guess I was wrong," he remarks, a cheeky smile drawn on his lips. He knows you couldn’t possibly say no now.

"Fine," you roll your eyes at his proud expression. "Prepare your wallet."

"Mm, sure," he responds, before rising from his seat once more.

That day, you both lost track of time as you studied in Limbo until it closed down. When you finally stepped outside, stretching your tired limbs, you were met with the sight of falling snowflakes.

"Nooo, go away. I don't want to watch the first snow with you," Minho whines, referring to the superstition that watching the first snowfall with someone could spark love between the two of you.

"As if I could ever love you," you laugh at the ridiculous idea, "that’d just be signing a death warrant."

You resume walking towards your apartment when suddenly something freezing and hard hits your back with enough force to make you stagger. Turning around slowly, you find Minho erupting in laughter, his body filled with uncontainable joy. He’s jumping and clapping excitedly, and for a fleeting moment, you can’t decide if your shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him.

Snapping out of your daze, you swiftly retaliate by scooping up a handful of snow and hurling it at him. "Now you are cold too!" you shout, while he’s still laughing uncontrollably.

Thus begins an impromptu snowball fight between the two of you. Unsurprisingly, you’re being competitive in this too, trying your best to strike each other before the other could recover. But Minho draws nearer to you, and in your desperation to win, you fall to the ground when he throws a snowball at your chest, gasping as if you’re in pain.

"Shit, did I hurt you?" Minho quickly kneels in front of you, concern evident in his voice. It surprises you for a moment- how worried he seems at the prospect of causing you pain.

But you shake that thought off and push him down to the ground, a proud smile on your face. In his fall, Minho instinctively reaches for you to steady himself, which ends up with you landing on top of him. Your faces are mere inches apart, and a soft gasp escapes your mouth at your sudden proximity.

Minho has a mole on his nose. You’ve never noticed that before.

You quickly push yourself off of him, not enjoying being this close to somebody. "Why did you drag me down with you?" you grumble, shaking off the snow from your hair.

"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," he cheekily stuck out his tongue, and you respond with the same childlike gesture before the both of you burst into loud laughter. The sound reverberates through your entire being, and it echoes in your mind long after the two of you go your separate ways.

As you lay in bed that night, ready to drift off to sleep, a quiet realization dawns on you. This was the first time you've touched snow in since your childhood incident.

That unpleasant memory didn't cross your mind once. Instead, all you thought about was Minho’s infectious laughter, and the surprising warmth it stirred within you.

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

True to his words, Minho texted you the name of the restaurant where you’d both meet to celebrate your win. As you got ready for your outing, you couldn’t help the nerves creeping up on you. Studying in silence next to Minho was something, going to a friendly dinner with him was another. You feared it would be too awkward and Minho would regret ever proposing such a thing.

So, as you sit in the refined BBQ restaurant waiting for him, you fidget with your hands, counting down to three in your head in an attempt to steady your breathing.

You were clearly not accustomed to existing with Minho outside of the confines of your studies.

"Did you wait long?" Minho asks as he finally pulls the chair in front of you and you shake your head no.

"Are you nervous?" he chuckles at your lack of words, and you frown, suddenly feeling defensive. "Why would I be nervous? This isn't a date."

"Who said anything about a date?" he smirks and you grab your fork threateningly, pointing it at him, "Don't say anything stupid or I will walk out."

"And stand me up on our first date? That's too mean.” He pouts, a hand on his heart and you can’t help but giggle at his antics. You were ridiculous for being nervous. This was Minho, the one person you’ve talked to the most since the start of this year.

"What will you have?" he asks and you smile mischievously.

"Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food."

"Well, it's certainly not for your company," you wink and he chuckles, his bunny teeth on full display.

"And here I thought we were going to be civil with each other."

"When are we ever not?" you gasp dramatically and Minho swats your hand with the menu. "Just order whatever," you finally answer," I trust your food judgment."

"I could poison you, you know?" He smiles proudly and you roll your eyes at him, "Can’t you be normal, for once?"

Minho calls over the waiter and places your orders. The food is quick to arrive and Minho starts to grill up the meat, while you cut the Kimchi into smaller pieces.

"Here," he puts the perfectly cooked rib onto your plate first and you smile at him, "Thank you."

"Eat up, don’t wait for me," he tells you and you nod, tasting the flavorful meat.

"Wow this is really good," you compliment and he smirks proudly at your words, "I know."

Minho places four other ribs for you, without eating one himself. You start to feel bad, so you grab his chopsticks, pick up the meat, and move it toward his mouth, "Open up."

"What?" He asks confused and you wave the food in front of his face, "Come on, you haven’t eaten anything."

Minho parts his lips slowly, and you feed the tender meat to him, before eating one yourself. You notice how his cheeks are slightly tinted pink now, and you account it to the intense heat of the grill.

"Oh, let's not talk about studies, my brain can't take another debate with you," you tell Minho in between bites and he grins at you, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "If you were to dispose of a body, how would you do it?"

"I think our next celebration will be in an asylum." you smile too sweetly at him and he stares at you pointedly, "Please, I know you've already thought about it."

"Fine. Probably in a deserted land. What about you?"

"I'd cut their bodies and then bury each part in a different forest. In a different city."

His answer came too quickly, and you pause in your tracks, "Should I be worried?"

"You are too cute to kill." His tone is sarcastic and you make a show of gushing at his compliment, clasping both of your hands in front of your heart, "Growing soft on me, Minho?"

"Yeah, I’m basically sooo in love with you," he replies with a smirk and you roll your eyes at him, an amused smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"What's your favorite color?" you finally ask, changing the subject.

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You'll buy me purple flowers?" He coos at you and you shake your head as you grab the utensil from his hand, to grill the meat your turn.

"No. I'll paint your tombstone purple," you grin and he laughs loudly, eyes squinted close, and you can't find it in you to care that the people next to you are staring.

"What's yours?" he asks when he calms down and you shrug, "Navy blue, I think."

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

"When you look at it, at first glance, it looks like black. But the more you stare at it, the more layers you uncover. Just like you. There’s more to you than what meets the eye."

You grab your glass of water, gulping it down to hide the way your eyes just glossed over. You suddenly felt bare in front of Minho. How did he know?

You clear your throat, racking your brain for a way to move on from that question. "If you were to describe colors to a blind person, how would you do it?"

"Mm," he looks up at the ceiling as he mulls over your question, "I’d say that yellow is the feeling of eating ice cream on a sunny day, in an amusement park. Your fingers are sticky but your cheeks ache from how much you smiled that day."

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

"I’d say that... Red is the thrill that rushes through your veins when you do something you are passionate about, you know? It’s what makes our blood boil and our heart race. The very essence of our humanity."

Minho smiles softly at your words, seemingly agreeing with your description. "Don’t you think it would be easier if we simply asked, what color are you feeling today, instead of a 'How are you'?" He questions and you tilt your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you could say, I feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to. Or, I feel bright yellow as if the world's energy is stored inside me."

"And right now, how do you feel?"

"I feel orange, not the ugly orange." He precises and you chuckle, "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean."

"A bittersweet orange, an ending that instantly strings along a new beginning. And you don't have time to rest."

Minho places his chin on his palm, eyeing you curiously, "Is that what you want? To rest?"

"Yeah." You admit quietly, "Don't you sometimes wish that the world would just stop, for a few seconds? Just like in a song, right before the beat drops. That silence, I wish I could live inside of it."

"I do too."

You both hold each other’s gaze for a while after that. You felt as if he was keeping you captive with his brown eyes, and he was slowly peeling each of your layers, in silence, as you were peeling his. For the first time, you think that you and he are similar, more than on a studies level. There was a part of his soul that understood yours perfectly. And it felt good, to be understood, for once.

"If you lived in this silence, what would you be doing?" he asks, breaking the serene quiet that surrounded you.

"I’d open a café that had books. And there'd be a little space, where people could paint. Or do pottery. And I’d have cats in there too." You reply excitedly, hands moving around in the air, you end up missing the way Minho gazes fondly at you before his smile morphs into a smirk.

"Please tell me you won't be cooking."

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

"You dance?!" you whisper-shout and he frowns at the surprised look on your face.

"Yeah. Why are you looking at me like this?"

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

"No." he cuts you off immediately and you pout.

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

"Please, I won't make a sound I’d just watch. Pinky promise.” He grabs your now outstretched pinky with the tip of his index and thumb, lowering it down.

"I’d only grant you this wish when you’re on your deathbed."

"Bold of you to assume you'd still be around."

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

Minho chuckles at the crestfallen look on your face, "I’ll think about it."

Just like that, three hours of talking have gone by, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. And when you finally leave the restaurant, Minho grabs you a cab and you wave him off with a smile. You couldn't lie to yourself, you had a really good time with him. You liked to think that Minho was no longer just a rival, but a possible friend.

But now that you were laying in your bed, you couldn’t help but curse Minho in your brain. His repetitive talk about murder made you paranoid, and now every creak in your apartment made you feel as if death was really right around the corner.

You decide to text him, figuring that if you couldn’t sleep because of him, you could at least disturb him for a bit.

Yn : I hate you I'm paranoid from your murder talk

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

Suddenly your phone rings, the shrill sound echoing around your apartment. It was a Facetime call from Minho. You panic for a few seconds, before remembering that you just spent your entire night with him. A call can’t be more daunting than a real-life meeting.

"See, I’m in my home," he tells you as soon as you pick up and you laugh.

"It's pitch black, I can't see."

"Just say you miss my face." You can’t see him but you can clearly hear the proud grin in his voice.

"What's there to miss?"

"Are you actually scared?" Minho asks gently and you clear your throat, feeling ridiculous all of the sudden.

"There is a tree right outside my window and it keeps rustling from the wind," you grumble and Minho laughs at you.

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

"Close your eyes.” He instructs and you frown at his words.

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

"Fine.” You close your eyes tentatively. It’s quiet for a few seconds and you feel yourself relax slightly.

"So, I bought a sous-vide machine and-"

"Is your bedtime story going to be about meat?"

"Yes?” He replies as if it’s an evidence, “Now be quiet." You pretend to zip your mouth and Minho faintly giggles, before resuming his story. "So, I was saying. I bought one and I wanted to experience different kinds of meats. So, I bought a 30-day aged one and a 58-day aged one and I cooked them both."

"What did you use?" you ask quietly.

"Just garlic, and thyme, I didn't want to overpower the taste of meat. Anyways I cooked them, but I didn't have plastic bags so I had to go out and buy them."

"Mm," you hum in acknowledgment. You could feel your nerves slowly dissipate with Minho's every word. His story might be ridiculous but his honey-coated voice compensated for it, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon.

"And I found pudding there so I had to buy it."

"Obviously," you whisper. Sleep was knocking on your door, but paradoxically you tried to fight it off. You wanted to hear the rest of Minho’s story.

"And I went back home and I cooked it, then I plated it nicely with vegetables that I sauteed with butter and garlic. Just mushrooms and potatoes, nothing too fancy. Again, my main focus was the meat. But there wasn't a difference between the two. They tasted the same for me, for some reason. And I didn't like this because the aged one was very expensive. Maybe I was scammed. Honestly, that butcher looked kind of suspicio..."

Your quiet snores make Minho pause in his tracks, and he laughs quietly. You did end up falling asleep. He can't see your face clearly, but he can see its outline and he stares at you for a while. You look peaceful.

He goes to hang up but his finger hovers over the 'end call' button. You aren't talking, but your hums are quiet enough that they fill up the space around him. It calms him down, and he lets his head fall on the pillow, his phone lying beside him.

He closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on.

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

The second semester had just started and with it the return of frat parties. You were excited at the prospect of going to one with your new friend Mina. You met her in the library when you both went to grab the same book. You quickly apologized but she waved you off, handing you the book with a huge smile on her face. She was bubbly, like a human serotonin boost, and she started gushing about how much she loved the author. You saw her again in the campus cafeteria, and she skipped towards you as if you've both known each other your entire life. That was the start of your friendship.

You walk into the frat house, both your arms encircling each other. The flashing lights of the party blind you for a moment, and it takes you a while to adjust to the loud music bouncing off of the walls. But you like it, it was like a shield from the outside world and its problems.

You feel yourself letting loose in the crowd, swaying your hips to the music. Mina spins you around and you laugh, dancing with no care in the world. It was just the both of you in that instant.

Mina spots Jeongin in the crowd, a friend of hers that she had an immense crush on. You couldn’t blame her- he was very attractive; his easy smirk and his blonde tousled hair earned him lots of appreciative looks from the people around him. But when his eyes locked with Mina’s, you found that his face morphed into a beautiful smile, that made his dimples look on full display, as if it was only reserved for her.

“Go get your man!” You shout in her ears, so she’d be able to hear you.

“What are you talking about?” She yells back, but you could see the nervous smile on her face.

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

“I don’t want to leave you alone. We came together!” She clasps your hand in hers and you smile touched by her kind spirit.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll go to the kitchen to get some drinks. Go have fun!”

“You are sure?” She asks, her eyes darting between you and Jeongin, who was still looking at her, and her only.

“Yes! Go!” You say, gently pushing her away. Mina jogs up to Jeongin who greets her with a side hug. He quickly glances at you and you shoot him a thumbs-up, to which he grins. You loved playing Cupid.

With that, you decide to head to the kitchen to grab a drink. You pick a beer from the fridge, double-checking if the can is closed before opening it.

You lean on the countertop, sipping on your drink while you watch the crowd, humming along each time a song you knew played. You enjoyed watching people dance freely from afar, with no apparent care in the world.

You feel someone stand next to you and you brace yourself, getting ready to tell the person off if they decide to bother you. You didn’t have the energy for mindless flirting. But then, you smell the cologne that has lingered around you for the past term- Minho. You haven't seen him since your dinner. That was a month ago.

"Fancy seeing you here," he greets as he leans on the counter right next to you, his eyes fixated on the mingling bodies.

You turn around to face him, faking an outraged gasp, "Are you following me?"

"Mmm. You look nice", he compliments and you smile cheekily, "I know."

"Won't tell me I look nice too?" he smirks, leaning closer to your face. "Someone didn’t get enough compliments tonight?" You pout, placing a hand on your heart in mock concern.

"I did, but I want to hear it from you. You’re the only sensible person in this room."

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

"Come on, I know you can do better than that", he jokes and you roll your eyes, muttering “You’re annoying”, under your breath.

Still, you comply, placing your arms on top of the counter and leaning your head on them to get a better look at him. He does the same, smiling, and you both stare at each other for a while after that.

The strobing lights dance on Minho’s face, casting enticing shadows on him. You've always known he was a beautiful man; you've looked into his eyes far too many times in your heated conversations. But this time was different, there was no cheeky smirk on his face nor a furrow in his eyebrows. He was simply looking at you, and it made a pool of warmth huddle in your belly. You feel yourself relax under his gaze, everything around you seemingly melts away.

You weren’t wrong when you thought that his eyes were like a black hole, pulling you in. But this time, you realize that you didn’t mind knowing what was on the other side. On the contrary, you longed for it.

"I like your eyes right now. They remind me of the night sky. Black, with tiny little stars littered in them," you finally say.

Minho is taken aback by your words, he wasn't expecting you to compliment him, let alone to tell him something so special. He can feel his cheeks burn red at your words, feel his heart hammering in his chest. He's afraid you can hear it too.

He doesn't know what to say, so instead he clears his throat, plastering a smirk on his face, "I heard better." He hasn't. This is the first genuine compliment he's ever gotten.

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh and he joins you. The music was loud and yet the only sound his ear seemed to pick up was your laugh.

"Are you here alone?" He asks, and you shake your head no, "Came with my friend Mina."

"Did she leave you by yourself?" He frowns and you feel yourself warm up at his worried tone. "I told her to go talk to Jeongin."

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

“Fine, Dad.” You chastise and he stares pointedly at you, "I’m serious, yn."

You take another swing of the beer before turning your body fully towards Minho. After a few beats of silence, you finally ask a question that has been on your mind for a while. "Why do you say my name this way?"

"What way?" He questions and you shrug, "Slowly. People used to always rush it but you don’t."

"Well, it’s a pretty name. It deserves to be pronounced as a whole."

You beam at his words; you smile so brightly it makes his heart skip a beat. This is the first time you’ve grinned this widely at him, no hand in front of your mouth as if to hide it. He did notice how you were a reserved person outside of class, as if you were afraid of taking up too much place. But he could tell you were slowly unraveling, growing bolder with each passing month. He wanted to tell you that if people like you spoke more, the world would be a far better place.

But he couldn't bring himself to say all of this, so he forced those bubbling words down his throat. "I’m hungry," he whines instead and you laugh at his pout. "I'm kind of craving a greasy pizza."

"Should we go buy it? You can tell Mina to come so we can walk her back."

"I’ll ask her."

You shoot Mina a text, asking her where she was and telling her about your plan. She replies that she’s with Jeongin who just offered to take her home, so you could leave without her.

"We can go." You tell him and he nods. Minho shrugs his leather jacket off, gently placing it on your shoulders. His warmth engulfs you and you sink further into it. His arm hovers around your shoulder not touching you as he leads you out of the party. He has never touched your body, you note, it's like he was everywhere and nowhere at once.

You both walk to an open parlor near the frat house, and you order a Margarita pizza to share. You sit down on a nearby bench to eat it- the night breeze too liberating to pass up on.

As you both finish eating, a cat with white and orange stripes all over her body approaches the both of you cautiously, and you pat her head softly. "Aren't you the cutest thing ever?" you coo and Minho chuckles as he scratches the cat’s chin. She purrs at his touch appreciatively, and you smile at the soft look on his face.

"Never knew you to be this gentle", you giggle and Minho shushes you, "Let's not do this in front of the cat."

"Why are you acting as if we are a divorced couple and she’s our child."

"Easy, yn. You make it sound as if you want me to marry you."

"Now you're just projecting," you chastise and he laughs, eliciting giggles from you. He had a melodic laugh, you noticed, and you always felt a surge of pride whenever you made him close his eyes and tip his head from laughter. You felt as if it's a sight only you can see.

"I have three cats", he says softly and you gasp, "Really? We spent all of our Sundays in a cat café and this is when you tell me?"

"I only tell my friends."

"So we're friends now?" You gush and he rolls his eyes at you, "I take it back."

"What’s their names?" You ask curiously and his eyes soften at your question- you could easily tell he loved them dearly.

"Soongie, Doongie, and Dori. They are rescues."

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

"Most of my scars come from them though," he chuckles but you sober up at his words, quietly scratching the cat's ears.

"What’s on your mind?" He asks and you glance at him. It was scary how well he’s starting to know you. But it was also nice; to be known is to exist, after all.

"I just... Sometimes I wish that memories would leave physical scars on you. Because at least then, you could treat them, put a band-aid on, and watch them fade away day by day. Because when the scars are emotional, you can’t treat them, you know? And someday someone brings up a name or a place, or you smell a certain scent, and suddenly they reopen as if no time has gone by at all.”

Minho stays silent for a while, mulling over your words. You don't mind, you weren't expecting him to comfort you. You just needed to free those words from the mental prison you've held them in for so long.

"Do you know Kintsugi?" he finally asks and you shake your head no.

"It's a Japanese art. They put back together broken vases with molten gold. It represents strength despite our flaws."

"That sounds nice," you sigh wistfully and he nods.

"It is. When you look at that vase, you know that it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty, on the contrary, it adds to it. Scars, whether they are emotional or physical are there for a reason. They remind us of how we pushed through whatever life threw at us."

"Am I supposed to be grateful I survived this?" You chuckle lowly, as your hand scratches the cat’s ear. Your fingers brush against Minho’s and you hesitate for a few seconds before moving them away.

"I wouldn't say grateful for what you went through," he speaks once again, "but grateful to yourself. At the end of the day, the reason why you're still here is you. You put yourself back together," he then bumps his elbow into your side softly, "and hey, even if your scars reopen there will come a time when they wouldn’t anymore. Sometimes, it takes a while to be okay again."

This was Minho’s way of telling you that someday it wouldn’t hurt anymore. That someday you’d be okay. And you needed to hear that. You needed to hear someone else other than yourself tell you that.

"Thank you, Minho, I needed that", you smile at him and he grins back at you before his smile turns to a smirk. "I charge 15 dollars for the hour by the way."

"Oh, come on! You didn't even say something revolutionary." You are lying. Minho's words will echo in your mind long after this night- a beacon of light to hold onto.

"Oh, so now it’s no longer ‘I needed that’. Tsk," he jokes a smirk still plastered on his face.

"Okay, Mr. Therapist. I’ll pay for your coffee tomorrow, sounds good?"

"I should have you as my client more often," he winks and you laugh, head tipped back. You were grateful more than ever for his teasing, loving how it wasn’t awkward between you after your discussion.

"You are a good listener." You tell him as you stand up, dusting your pants.

"I’m good at everything," he grins cheekily at you and you roll your eyes playfully, "And here I thought we were having a moment."

You both start walking side by side toward your home when Minho speaks again. His tone is quiet as if he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear him. "About earlier, your compliment, I mean. I suppose I didn't thank you. So, thank you," he scratches the tip of his ears and you shrug nonchalantly. "It's the truth. You might get on my ass but that doesn't change the fact you are a pretty man."

He doesn’t respond and you tug at the sleeve of his shirt playfully, "You won't tell me I’m pretty too?"

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

You laugh loudly, hand tightly clutching your stomach and he joins you. There is a newfound lightness in your steps now. Unbeknownst to him, Minho just managed to lift a small weight off your shoulders, allowing you a brief moment of respite.

"This is me," you say when you arrive in front of your apartment block, "Thank you for walking me home."

"Of course. Don't dream of me."

"Idiot," you laugh waving him off and he does the same. "Oh, and text me when you get home safely!" you shout before heading inside.

For the second time this night, Minho is blushing profusely at your words. He sighs to himself, waiting patiently until a light turns on in your place to leave.

✹✹✹

It’s been two months since the start of the new term. You still went to Limbo, every Saturday with Minho- even when you didn’t need to study.

Sometimes you’d just grab a book and you’d both read, a cat lazily lounging at your feet. You started sitting at the same table too; you figured it was easier since one of you always pays for the other. When you have a bet, but also randomly, when you notice that the other person is feeling down and you want to cheer them up without saying anything.

That's why you bought three bubble teas for Minho in a row. He was quieter these days, you noticed. He didn’t talk to you nor did he retort back in class. It was the first time you’ve seen him this way. As if he was a simple shell of the person he usually is.

You were walking out of your Communications Strategies class, which Minho weirdly didn’t come to when you realized that it was pouring rain. You smile lightly to yourself, grateful since you thought about picking up an umbrella this morning.

As you walk through campus, everyone around you running to take shelter, you spot someone sitting on a bench, completely drenched from the rain. Their head is hung low and you frown to yourself. They would surely get a cold if they stay there.

But then the person raises their head and you quickly realize it's Minho. You jog up to him instinctively, standing in front of him and shielding him from the rain with your umbrella.

He looks up at you and you feel your heart clench. His eyes are void of emotion and he stares blankly at you. "Are you okay?" you ask and he blinks at your words, as if his brain hadn't yet registered that you were there.

"Yeah."

"You don't look like it", you tilt your head to the side and he looks down again. You have to strain to hear his next words, muffled by the rain and his mumbling, "I don't want to talk, yn."

You decide to put away your umbrella and sit down next to him on the bench. The rain falls rapidly on both of you, and you feel yourself grow cold from it.

"What are you doing?" He questions, turning to the side to look at you.

"Enjoying the rain. It is kind of stupid that we have umbrellas, right?"

"You'll catch a cold."

"I mean we always complain about the drought and then when it rains, we hide from it. But it's really beautiful."

"Stop, I don't want you to get sick."

"Well, neither do I. Let's go eat some soup. My treat."

"Yn, I don’t-"

"I thought you were smart enough to know I won't take no for an answer."

"But I-" you cut him off again. "Also, I’m doing this for me because when you order for two, they give you a lot of side dishes. Now come on."

You stand up and he looks doubtfully at you, before following suit. You open up the umbrella again and hold it over both of your heads. He has to huddle close to you, and your shoulders brush against each other. Once, twice. Not that you're keeping count. But your body is always hyper-aware of Minho’s proximity. You also notice how he silently moves from your right to your left, this way he's the one walking right next to the speeding cars. Your hold on the umbrella tightens. You were still not used to those small attentions of his.

You arrive in front of your apartment block and he hesitates. "Come up, I won't murder you I promise." You joke and he smiles lightly back at your words. Progress.

He enters your dorm and you can see him eying his surroundings. You know that if it was another time, he would have teased you about something- anything. But he stays quiet, and you find yourself missing the sound of his voice.

"Would you like to shower?" You offer and he nods, "Please."

You lead him to your bathroom and show him where the washing machine is. "Put your clothes in there for a quick wash and dry. You can shower meanwhile."

He nods again as you hand him a towel. "I'll be outside."

You quickly leave the bathroom to place the soup orders, and Minho discards his wet clothes, walking into your shower. The water is piping hot, and he leans his forehead on the cold tiles. He doesn’t move for the first ten minutes, too tired at the prospect of lifting his limbs.

Nothing particular happened. But he’d go through days when he’d quiet down because everything around him was too much. The feel of his clothes against his skin, and the sun streaming through his curtains. But it always passes. Minho was a realistic man and he knew that his emotions would regulate themselves. That’s why he didn’t like appearing vulnerable in front of other people.

But for some reason, he didn’t mind lowering his guard with you. He knew you wouldn’t judge.

He sighs, grabbing your cherry-scented shampoo and pouring it into his hands. He can clearly smell you now. The scent of your hair that always tickles his nose, whenever you are sitting close to him. Your body wash is next and he wonders if this is how your skin smells, like vanilla and jasmine, and something entirely you.

Forty minutes later, Minho finally steps out of the shower. His clothes are clean and he quickly puts them on. He dries his hair with the towel as he walks out of your bathroom towards the living room.

He finds you sitting on the ground, in front of a heater that looks close to giving up. He makes a mental note of giving you the one he has since he doesn't really use it. You changed out of your clothes too, and you are now wearing a pair of pajamas with little bunnies sewn into it. The sight almost manages to make him smile.

"Still cold?" you question when you notice him standing behind you, unmoving, and he shakes his head no.

"Good, the soup is here." You say cheerfully, pointing at the steaming bowls sitting on your table. Minho hums in reply and you stand up, grabbing the towel from his hands to place it on the drying rack.

You come back, a soft green blanket in your hands. You sit on the couch and pat the spot beside you. Minho sits next to you, and you lay the blanket on both of your laps, before handing him his soup.

You start the show you’ve been last watching, as you both eat in silence, your legs crisscrossed. You make some comments throughout the episodes. You figured that it was a safe territory, to talk about something as mundane as this. He didn't reply but you didn't mind. You weren't here to have a conversation with him. You just wanted to distract him.

You realize at that moment that Minho always looked so put together to you. But he had problems of his own too. That much was obvious. It made you feel closer to him, in a sense. You were both just trying to make it through the day.

Two hours later, you get up to grab a book, handing Minho the remote to put on a show of his own. You curl in a ball in the corner, reading where you left off last night.

"Can you... Can you read out loud?" Minho speaks for the first time in a while and you look at him. His eyes are closed, his head resting against your couch.

"Sure."

You start to read, and Minho further sinks into the couch. He feels at home here. Because the blanket is soft and the light is dim enough to not hurt his eyes. Or it could be that he smells like you, a scent so comforting he wants to bury himself in it. Or maybe it's your voice that floats through the air, slowly clouding Minho’s every sense. He feels as if he could see the words you were pronouncing dancing in front of his eyes. You enunciated each syllable clearly, making sure that no sound was forgotten.

As Minho gently drifted to sleep, he felt as if he was part of the words you read out loud. He felt as if you were treating him with the same care, making sure that he knew he wasn't invisible. At least not to you.

When you wake up the next morning, Minho is gone. And his place beside you on the couch is empty. He made you breakfast, scrambled eggs, and freshly pressed orange juice. And right next to it you find a note, "Thank you for reading to me."

✹✹✹

Minho didn't believe in having a lot of friends. He was content with the two people he had, Chan and Changbin. The latter was his high school friend, he skipped a year and ended up being in the same class as Minho. They didn't talk at first until the day Changbin dropped a book on Minho's foot. The brooding man started apologizing profusely, and that was the start of their friendship. They've kept in touch since.

Chan was his roommate at university. It's not that he particularly wanted to befriend him, but Chan was a social butterfly and he quickly managed to pull Minho into his friendly trap. He annoys Minho the most, but in an endearing way. And although Chan is older, Minho still strangely developed a soft spot for him.

And he supposes he has you too now. At first, you weren’t friends, rivals at most. He enjoyed reeling you up and having you frown at his words in your heated debates. He also liked talking to you, because your ideas were interesting and you always gave him a new fresh perceptive to see things.

That’s how he strictly saw you as, an intelligent human who he liked to debate with.

But then he started to look forward to meeting up with you at Limbo. He no longer minded the fact that you took his self-assigned table, from his high school days. And he laughed more freely with you, enjoying how you always had a witty retort sitting at the tip of your tongue.

That’s how he started to notice things that friends most definitely notice. How you have a charm bracelet you always fidget with whenever you are nervous. How you stray away from physical touch. How you scratch your eyebrow when you are deep in thought.

But also, how you seem to have an obsession with cherries. Your cherry pendant, your cherry-scented shampoo, and your cherry-tainted lips. A friend would most certainly think that your lips are like red wine-stained glass.

He remembers one of the many times when you were at Limbo, and he saw you reapply your lip tint, or so you called it. You caught him looking and he swiftly averted his gaze, but it wasn't quick enough. Suddenly you were in front of him, a tiny red bottle in hand.

"Let me apply it to you," you smiled and he pushed your head away with his pointer finger. "No."

"Please," you pouted and he couldn't help but find you adorable. You sometimes reminded him of a small kitten. But he didn’t dare to call you by that nickname.

"Never."

"If I score more than you in our environmental assignment then I will do it."

"Fine." he huffed so that you'd leave him alone.

Minho didn't study for that assignment. He blamed it on a headache, not that it's ever stopped him before. And two weeks later you were in front of him, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You applied the lip tint gently on his plump lips, carefully tracing over his cupid bow.

Your face was mere inches away from his and he noticed how you were wearing a gloss today, for change. It was shimmering under the lights and he usually didn't like glittery things, but he couldn't take his eyes off your lips.

"All done!" you clapped excitedly, snapping him out of his haze. You then shove your phone camera into his face so he'd look at the results.

"You should be a model. Your face is perfectly sculpted," you comment nonchalantly, before sitting back in your seat.

“I know.” He replies confidently, but his hand kept fiddling with the tip of his now pink ears. He couldn't concentrate for the rest of the night.

You were his friend because he always worried if you were eating enough. That’s why he urged you to grab a bite in the convenience store near Limbo, whenever you finished up your studying late.

This was one of the many times you sat on the minuscule table outside, hot ramen bowls in front of the both of you. Minho huffed in annoyance between each bite, his bangs were getting longer, disturbing him when he leaned down to slurp his noodles.

“Here,” you stand up from your place, a hair tie in your hands.

“What are you doing?” He questions as you stand behind him. You don’t reply, silently grabbing his hair and putting it up in a tiny ponytail, this way it wouldn’t get in his eyes anymore.

“Voila,” you sit back down, resuming your eating. Minho was grateful for the dimly lit street because his entire face was burning up. Your fingers in his hair were gentle and he wondered how it would feel if you ran your fingers through it.

This was something friends think about, right?

"I’ll cut my hair tomorrow," he clears his throat. He didn't know why he told you. You certainly weren't interested in his hair endeavors.

"What?!" you yell, "Don't. Your hair is beautiful why would you cut it?"

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

Minho also noticed how you always threw compliments his way. Not in a flirtatious way, but in a genuine one. He couldn't help but wonder what made you this way. Did you so freely give love to others because you knew how it felt to not receive it?

"I’ll still cut it."

Minho returned home; his hair still clipped back in a ponytail. Chan eyed him weirdly but he shut him off with a glare. The elastic remained at his bedside since.

He didn't cut his hair.

The moment Minho started to consider you a close friend, was when you invited him over to watch your show. You didn’t force him to open up that night, and he appreciated it, more than he let on.

That's how a week later, he finds himself walking towards your dorm again. The thoughts in his head got too much, and Chan was immersed in his makeshift studio, which meant he won't be free for the next four hours, minimum.

He didn't plan on going to you. It was late at night and you were probably asleep, but his feet naturally led him to the direction of your place.

He knocks softly on your door. He wasn't even sure if he wanted you to open. What would you think of him showing up at eleven pm? He should have thought this thro-

"Minho?" you call out, and he startles a bit, his feet already inching away from the door.

"This was a bad idea, I'm sorry," he starts to retract back but you grab the hem of his jacket to stop him. "Do you... Do you want to watch my show with me?" you ask, a soft smile on your face and he nods tentatively.

"Okay, come in," you open the door wider and Minho follows you inside. The look in his eyes reminds you of the day you found him sitting under the rain. You didn't like it, you wanted him to find his spark back, his usual demeanor. He wasn't deserving of anything but happiness.

"I’ve started a new show, this one's a bit more romantic, so don't go around imagining me as the main character," you tease and he scoffs at your words, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He doesn't reply, but you don't mind. There was this secret agreement between the two of you, you would talk and he would listen. He needed the distraction, and you needed the company. Sometimes the line between alone and lonely blurs, and on days like these, Minho’s presence fills the void inside.

You comment on the scenes and Minho hums in reply, you watch three episodes in a row, and your eyes are getting drowsy, so you close them.

"Minho," you call out gently and he turns his head towards you.

"Yeah?"

"What color are you feeling tonight?" You ask, referencing to what he told you on your dinner celebration. That felt like an eternity ago.

"Black." You stay silent and Minho fidgets with his hands before speaking once again. "I feel a lot at the same time, too much of every color. That's why- that's why I said black."

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

"You already do." His admission came softly and it made your breath hitch in your throat. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him, but you figured it will only make him close off even more.

“Okay. Will you stay for breakfast?”, you whisper. You were very sleepy, the soft chatter of the TV and your hushed conversation were like a lullaby to you.

"You want me to?" he asks, and he sounds so vulnerable you can't find it in you to say anything but the truth.

"I do," you admit, and that's the last thing you remember before sleeping.

Your head falls near Minho’s lap on the couch, your hair tickling his exposed thigh. Minho shouldn’t feel this way, he thinks. He’s sitting on the leather couch and his feet are touching the cold floor and yet all he can feel is three strands of your hair tickling him.

He glances at you, at your now parted lips and your relaxed eyebrows. His hand hovers over your hair, but then he curls it into a tight fist. What is he doing? He thinks to himself as he drags an angry hand through his face. He sighs, before standing up and grabbing the blanket you had on the opposing chair. He gently lays it on your body before sitting next to you once again.

You told him to stay for breakfast. He’ll stay.

✹✹✹

2 months later

"Yn!" Minho shouts in your ear as he plops down next to you. You startle, dropping the book you were reading.

"I hate you," you grumble, picking up your book and he smiles cheekily at you, "No you don't."

You were laying on the grass of your campus garden, in between two classes, trying to kill the time. It was April so the weather was perfect for lying under the warm sunrays. You loved spring, it always held within it the promise of a better time.

"What are you doing?"

"I was reading before you got here and started to annoy me."

"Don't mind me. Do your thing."

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

"You couldn't find any other place to do so?"

"Nope."

"You're annoying" You try to sound mad but the smile on your face betrays you. You started looking forward to any moment Minho randomly shows up throughout your day. Sometimes it's late at night when he's suddenly craving sushi and he drags you with him because if he's not studying then you shouldn't be too.

Sometimes it's during the day, when he takes you to a new garden where he found the quote "cutest cats in existence". Not as cute as his cats, of course.

Sometimes it's late afternoon when he just knocks on your door, and he's there with Chan-his roommate who sometimes joins your study sessions- snacks in their hands. You've learned that what Minho doesn't say in words, he compensates by spending time with you. And you didn't tell him but waiting for these moments has been the joy of your life for the past few weeks.

It made you feel excited- like a child waiting up for Christmas morning to discover what gifts they are receiving.

So, you resume reading, as Minho is lying next to you. You could smell his pinewood cologne and you wished you could pour his essence into a bottle and carry it with you everywhere.

You notice how the sun is hitting Minho’s eyes directly, and how his eyebrows are scrunched up at the aggression. So, you grab your book with your left hand, and hover your right one over his eyes, shielding him from the sun. Minho's breath tickles your hand and you can feel goosebumps rising through your skin.

It's as if every physical proximity with Minho made you feel hyperaware of every part of your body, and how he can lighten it with a simple breath from his part. It made you wonder what it would feel to have his hands on your skin.

As if Minho heard your thoughts, he gently wraps his thumb and index finger around your wrist, steadying your hand in place so it wouldn't strain your arm. You suddenly don't know what page you are in, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you.

His touch is very featherlight and you are afraid to move, to break the bubble you are suddenly pulled into.

"Read to me," he tells you and you gulp. You never understood why Minho enjoyed it when you read to him.

"Like my voice that much?" you tease, in an attempt to hide how affected you are. You were so close to him; it would be easy to slide down and lay your head on his chest. You wondered how his heartbeat would sound. Was it steady, or racing just like your own?

"Yeah, it's calming," he replies sincerely, catching you off guard. You didn't expect him to compliment you, and now you are racking your brain for a retort, anything to make you breathe again.

"Growing soft on me Minho?" you say, the same question you asked on your first dinner out. The first time you truly saw him, the first time you felt as if you were two pieces of the same puzzle, just waiting for someone to connect the both of you.

He doesn't reply. And you sit there, patiently waiting. His first answer came so easily, so naturally, because he was being sarcastic, "I’m basically in love with you", he told you back then. So why can't he say it again?

"Yes, I am." He finally replies and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You try to account it for your brain misguiding you. It wasn't Minho speaking, it was the rustling of the leaves and the singing of the birds that you just heard. But it was him, and now his eyes are open and he's looking at you. Your hand is still shielding his eyes and his fingers are still wrapped around your wrist. And you are suddenly feeling. You are feeling too much. You don't know what to do with those feelings cursing through your veins and you can't face them. Because they are scaring you.

"I'll just... Yeah, I’ll just read," you say quietly, too flustered by his intense gaze. You were already on the other side, you realize. His eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey.

"Out loud," he says and you chuckle, "Fine, Min." The nickname slips out of your tongue naturally and you quickly snap your head towards Minho to see if he noticed.

His eyes are closed, and there is a slight smile on his face, and you can swear that he just repeated the nickname to himself softly.

✹✹✹

You've been so sick these past days, you barely managed to go to class. Your head throbbed with pain and your entire body felt as if someone thoroughly boxed it.

You were grateful that Minho reeled down his teasing because you had no energy to retort back. He may have noticed how sick you felt and truthfully it would be hard not to. You stayed silent throughout the day, and you looked so pale, you avoided looking at the mirror altogether.

Though Minho didn't talk to you, he still silently placed water bottles and some of your favorite snacks on your desk. You'd down the water, grateful for the relief it brought your sore throat. And when you didn't touch the food, he'd immediately text you 'Eat up', followed by a simple 'Please'. Having someone else care for your well-being felt weird, but it warmed your heart beyond what words could describe.

You only came today to pass your Criminal Law mid-term, but your head hurt so badly that you weren't even sure what you wrote on your paper. The words blurred in front of your eyes and you almost slept in the middle of your exam, exhaustion threatening to take over your body.

You fucked up, badly. You haven't screwed up this much in years.

You thought that you were slowly getting better since Minho surpassing you no longer sparked an unworthy feeling within you. But apparently, you were wrong to believe so. Self-doubt crept up within you once again, and the ugly feelings it stirred slowly clawed at your throat, making it hard for you to breathe.

It was one test, and yet it reeled you back ages ago.

Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes as you hurriedly walk out of your class. You make a beeline for the library, figuring that it will be mostly empty by now.

You pull out a chair and sit on it, lowering your head down so no one will see you. Your tears are falling rapidly and you hit your thigh repeatedly. You hated how weak you felt in that instant.

"Yn?", someone calls out and you curse internally. You don't have to look up to see who it is, Minho's voice has become a part of you- you could easily recognize it between a thousand mingling sounds.

You don't want him to see you, especially not like this, weak and vulnerable and on the verge of breaking down. So you quickly slip a pair of sunglasses on your eyes, before raising your head to look at him. "Hm?"

"Are you okay?" he asks, his tone so soft it makes you want to cry ten times fold. You hated it, hated how attentive he was to you. You didn't deserve it.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just here to pick a book," you lie, abruptly standing up and heading toward the rows behind you. You desperately needed to get away from him.

You pause in front of a random shelf and then you feel Minho standing behind you. You grab a random book and he peeks above your shoulder to see it, "Economics? You hate this subject."

"Why are you following me?" you turn around attempting your best to sound mad. When in reality, your heart was brimming with hurt. You wished you could get away from your body and seep into someone's soul to feel what it's like to love yourself.

"You aren't okay," he asserts and you hate it. You hate that he sounds so sure of himself. Was it that noticeable? Were you not fooling anyone?

"I am," your voice is shaking but you are adamant about contradicting him. You couldn't let him see you. What if he runs?

"Then..." he steps forward and you take a step back until your back is against the shelf. His left arm cages your body, but his right one stays by his side. He is leaving you an opening, you realize, an outing in case you feel uncomfortable. Against all odds, you don't.

"Why are you hiding from me?" he asks, gently taking your sunglasses off your face, and placing them on the top of your head.

You don't look up at him, and he hooks his finger underneath your chin, gently raising your head. When your tear-stained eyes meet his, he frowns deeply, "Why are you crying?"

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

"I fucked up, okay?! That was the worst test I’ve ever given in years." The tears start to flow at your words and you wipe them away aggressively. You despised crying in front of people.

Minho raises his hand to wipe the tears away for you but he quickly retracts it- you probably wouldn't want him to touch your face. It was enough that he had grabbed your wrist a couple of weeks before this. He quickly racks his brain for something to do, because the sight of your tears is making his heart ache in a way he hasn't felt before. It's as if he's feeling your emotions deep within him.

In desperation, Minho pinches your arm and you yelp, startled. "What was that for?" you whisper-shout and he raises his hands in defense, "I didn't know what else to do."

"So, you thought about pinching me?" you chuckle in bewilderment and he scratches the top of his hair sheepishly.

"I mean, it worked. Look, you stopped crying," he points out raising his brows at you proudly and you shake your head at him.

"Remind me to never cry in front of you again."

Minho grins at you before his face turns serious once again. "Look, you are the smartest person I know," he pauses, adding with a cheeky smirk, "After me of course." Which makes you giggle against your will.

"Shut up", you lightly punch his chest and he smiles. "One test doesn't define you. You always work very hard. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Mm," you hum and he frowns at your lack of enthusiasm, but still, he doesn't comment.

"No more crying," he wiggles his finger in front of your face and you roll your eyes, wiping the rest of your tears away. "Fine. Pretend as if this never happened."

"What are you talking about?" he asks as if confused, and you can't help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It's as if Minho knows exactly what to say to cheer you up.

"Come with me," he tells you, gently pulling you by the sleeve of your hoodie.

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

"You're craving ice cream too," he says in a matter-of-a-fact tone.

"Only if you're paying," you add with a giggle and he whines loudly, "I feel so so used around you."

True to his words, Minho takes you to the nearest ice cream parlor. It's a 20 minutes walk away and you are grateful for the distance because it helps you clear your head a bit.

Minho lets you pick whatever flavors you want, and when you hesitate between two of them, he tells the cashier to put them both into your cup. This is how you end up with a container of 5 scoops of ice cream. You insisted you'd share, and Minho begrudgingly agreed when you threatened to walk out and leave him.

You then walk to a deserted alley and sit on the sidewalk. You didn't want to be around people right now, and thankfully, Minho understood without you having to say a word.

You munch silently on your ice cream and Minho does the same, the both of you lost in your thoughts. You naturally take turns holding the freezing container, so it wouldn't numb the fingers of one of you.

When you're done, Minho stands up to throw it away in a nearby trashcan before sitting back again next to you.

Suddenly you feel him gently tapping your hand. You look down to find that you've curled your fingers into a tight fist, so much that there are crescent indents visible on your palm now.

"Let's play thumb war," he tells you and you giggle at his words. You never knew what to expect from him.

Still, as your fingers hold each other, and your thumb circles one another, you feel yourself calm down slightly. You play a couple of rounds, and you know he's going easy on you, allowing you to quickly trap his thumb down.

No one has gone to such lengths to cheer you up, and you suddenly feel so grateful for Minho’s presence in your life. You didn't care in what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it. Which in turn makes you think how bad it'd hurt if he ever leaves.

You don't want Minho to leave. You've gotten so attached to him that the thought of not talking to him again makes your heart race in panic.

Minho notices the change in your expression, suddenly melancholic once again. Your hand has gone limp in his, the thumb war long forgotten by you.

He curses under his breath, before looking at you. "If I dance for you, will you quit being so sad?"

"Dance for me?" you repeat incredulously and he nods, "Yes. I’ll show you an upcoming choreography just... Please smile?"

"Okay," you giggle, plastering a wide grin on your face.

"Not like that you look scary."

"Get to dancing!" you clap excitedly and he rolls his eyes, standing up and looking through his phone for a particular music.

"Oh and no comment!" he looks pointedly at you, and you nod, pretending to zip your mouth and throwing away the key.

'Finesse' by Bruno Mars starts playing and you are left mesmerized by the way Minho dances. It's short but it leaves you yearning to see more. His body moves smoothly, hitting each beat effortlessly. He made it look as if dancing was second nature to him, that it came as easily to him as breathing.

You were speechless, rightfully so. You wished you could build a world where all Minho did was dance.

"That was-" you start when he stops the music but he cuts you off instantly, "I said no comment."

"But--" Minho places his finger on your mouth to silence you, seemingly not thinking too much of it. But the feel of his finger on your lips makes you dizzy. Minho quickly takes off his hand, a blush evidently creeping up his neck.

"Let's just go home," he sighs in defeat and you laugh despite the intense feelings cursing through you.

You don't know if you are imagining it but you swear that your pinkies brush against each other on your walk back. As if there was this magnetic force pulling them together. You wondered what would happen if you just linked your pinky with his. Would he grab you by the hand or will he let go of you entirely?

You were too much of a coward to find out. You were scared of messing up anything with him. So, you'd settle for this. Stolen glances and random outings. You just need him in your life.

"Thank you for today," you tell Minho once you arrive and he shrugs, as what he did wasn't a big deal.

"No, I mean it. Thank you," you repeat, trying your best to convey how sincere you were being. You take in a deep breath, before grabbing his hand and squeezing it, for a fleeting second, before dropping it again.

Minho is sure that your hand will now be imprinted into his, that the lines tracing over your palm will merge with his as one. Your touch was barely there but it had electrocuted him. He wondered to himself if his body would be able to handle more from you. But he'd gladly burn in your fires for the sake of holding you. And he'd wait, unwaveringly, as time stretches alongside the two of you. He'd wait as long as it takes for you.

"Yn, I..." he stammers, taking a step closer to you. His scent engulfs you and you shamefully close your eyes, inhaling it. When you open them again, you find Minho glancing down at your lips. You gulp, dazzled by his proximity.

"You have a mole on your nose," you suddenly speak up and his eyes snap back to yours, an adorable confusion drawn on his features.

"I like that mole," you continue and you wish you could dig yourself a hole and bury yourself in it.

"Thank you," he chuckles and you nod vigorously, "You're welcome."

"Can I ask you something?" he says and your breath hitches in your throat. "Sure."

"You don't like it when people touch you, right?"

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?"

You want to confide in him, to tell him that it’s because you long for it, you crave it so badly. That this need has woven itself into the very fabric of your being. An ache so raw that it scares you at times. You’ve never known what it feels like to be held- it was uncharted territory to you.

"Isn't everyone scared of the unknown?" you settle on saying, and he nods in understanding. Of course, he understood. No one knows you as well as him.

"It's okay. I just wanted to know if I ever overstepped my boundaries."

"You didn't," you reply instantly.

"Good. You'll tell me if I ever do, right?"

"I will."

"Okay."

"Um. I'll get going," you point behind you and Minho smiles at you, waving you off.

You walk for a few steps before coming back again quickly. You then grab Minho’s hand, gently squeezing it like before, "You are an amazing dancer."

And then you drop it, running back towards your apartment block without waiting for a reply.

Minho stays frozen in his place. You think he's an amazing dancer. And you held his hand for five seconds.

That's four seconds more than the first time.

Progress.

✹✹✹

You haven't gotten out of your house for the past three days.

Everything crashed around you rapidly, it made you realize that the ground you once stood on was only an illusion, elusive and fleeting.

You were doing well; you were getting better. But then Monday came and you went out for a walk in the park near you. As you sat there, you saw a little girl playing on the swings, delightful joy dancing across her features. But then she fell to the ground and you instinctively stood up to help her, only to notice her mother running to her.

The world stilled around you as you clearly saw it- how the little girl clung to her mother's embrace, her embodiment of hope and love. You never had that. You don’t even know what perfume your mother used because she never allowed you to get that close to her.

You stood up abruptly, quickly heading back to your apartment block. As you ran up the stairs, you ended up bumping into one of your neighbors. You were quick to apologize but they ignored you, and the feeling of being invisible came back to haunt you ten times fold.

You knew you shouldn’t have done it, you knew you should have deleted your mother’s number when she sent you away to university without a backward glance, relieved at the thought of you getting a full-ride scholarship and not needing her anymore. But you didn’t, you kept her number in the hopes that she’d call. On your birthday, on holidays, on a random Thursday to tell you that she did remember who you are.

With trembling hands, tears welling in your eyes, you dialed your mother’s number for the first time in a year. You didn’t know what you were expecting. Maybe she regrets it. Maybe she misses you. Maybe she didn’t find the courage to mend her wrongdoings and that's why she never called.

"Hello?" her voice rang through your apartment. Goosebumps erupted on your arms and your hold on the phone tightened. Her voice took you back to memories you thought you had buried. How you spent countless nights yearning to hear the sound of her voice, how you regretted it once she spoke to attack you.

You hate her. You miss her. You want to hang up. You need to ask if she's doing okay.

“Who is this?” Her voice was devoid of recognition, freezing you in your tracks. You felt as if a bucket of ice was thrown over your head, dousing the flame of hope that flickered in your heart.

She deleted your number.

You quickly hung up, placing your phone down on the table. The tears refused to fall. It was as if your body had long anticipated this outcome, leaving only your wounded soul to bear the pain.

Healing isn't linear, you've read about it in books and heard it in shows and movies. One step back doesn't mean that your entire progress is gone. You know this, you've memorized those sentences. So why do you not believe them? Why does it feel as if you can never be free from the past? Why does it feel as if you’ll always seek something out of her?

Those questions roamed your mind for the past three days, making you too tired at the prospect of lifting your limbs, let alone leaving your apartment. You sent your two friends a text, telling them that you're sick so they wouldn't worry. Not that you believed they would. Nothing made sense to you anymore.

You laid on your bed in utter silence- a tense quiet that was disrupted on the third day by someone knocking on your door. You didn't know who was there; you just hoped that they'd leave you alone.

To your surprise, you open the door to find Minho, some notes in his right hand and a coffee in his left. He sends an easy smile your way. You don't smile back.

"What do you want?" your voice is cold, but Minho doesn't bristle. A cheeky smile settles on his lips as he leans on your doorway.

"You didn't come to class for the past three days, so I brought you the notes. So, you wouldn't think our competition is unfair."

"Competition," you chuckle coldly, heading inside your apartment, and he follows suit. You start to pace around furiously, and Minho looks at you worriedly. "Competition?" you repeat, the word dripping off your tongue like venom. You turn around, marching towards Minho and standing a few inches from him. "You know what? Fuck you and your competition!"

"Yn-"

"Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted a part in this competition? That all I wanted was to be left alone?" you say, growing louder as you jab your finger into his chest repeatedly. "I never wanted any of this! Do you understand? I never wanted to be this way," you shout angrily in his face.

The worried look in Minho’s eyes snaps you out of your haze. You realize that you are being utterly ridiculous lashing out at Minho, when the one person you are mad at is yourself.

Your anger quickly deflates, leaving in its trail an agonizing sadness. It's so sudden that it knocks the breath out of you, and you clutch your chest as if it could soothe the burn in your heart. Suddenly you are twelve years old again, crying in your room because you feel like no one has ever loved you.

But this time you aren't alone. Minho is in front of you, and his eyebrows are so furrowed you want to lean forward to ease the tension between them. His eyebrows, you liked his eyebrows, they were arched, and they framed his eyes nicely, and his eyes are brown and so big, and they always look at you softly and why is it getting so hard to breathe-

"Did I do something to you? Whatever it is I’m sorry," Minho panics, cutting off your frantic train of thought. But now, the weight of guilt adds to your overwhelming emotions. You shouldn't have lashed out at him, he brought you coffee and you yelled at him. Maybe your mom was right after all.

You shake your head left and right furiously, your words coming out in hiccups. Since when did you start crying? "It isn't- it isn't you."

"Then let me help you-", he steps forward, hand outstretched, but you take three hurried steps back and wrap your hands around yourself protectively. "Don’t. Please, don't."

"Why are you pushing me away?" his tone isn't accusatory. You've learned time and time again that Minho wouldn't do anything that made you feel uncomfortable.

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

"Because I’m afraid!" the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I’m afraid if you ever hug me, I wouldn't be able to go back to hugging myself. I'd need you and I can't afford to need someone else."

You regret the words as soon as they fleet away from your mouth. He would look at you differently, he would find you pathetic and then he’d leave. And you wanted him to leave. But you also wanted him to stay. It was all so confusing.

You felt as if your being was torn between two great forces, each one of them trying to win the war raging inside you. You wished someone else would make the decisions in your place, for once.

Minho places the coffee and notes on the ground before approaching you, his palms facing up in a gesture of surrender. "I won't leave you," he says softly. "I’ll be by your side for as long as you'll have me."

"Minho..." your voice catches in your throat as you utter his name- like a broken prayer. He stands before you, his eyes shimmering like the reflection of a river on a sunny day.

"Please, let me make it better."

You nod tentatively and Minho comes even closer to you. He was treating you like one would with a wounded animal, giving you a chance to ultimately back out. But for once, you listen to what your heart has been yearning for. Your bones are aching to be held, to feel the warmth of a body against your own, to feel safe and secure.

Minho embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you to him. You slowly bring your arms up and lace them around his waist. You are afraid, deathly afraid. His grip is loose, and you almost can't feel him around you, but when you lay your head on his chest, he tightens his hold on you and you instinctively let out a sob.

He's hugging adult you, the woman whose heart was once again broken by her mom. But he's also hugging little you, the girl who was craving affection from everyone around her. In that instant, Minho is hugging every single version of you that ever needed a hug.

You were right to be scared because you don't want to let go, you want to stay in his arms because they feel safe, like a shield protecting you. You can't go back to not hugging Minho.

The sensation is overwhelming and your knees buckle underneath you. But instead of holding you up, Minho falls to the ground with you, as if you are two inseparable pieces of one puzzle. He isn’t here to fix you, he’s here to break down with you and help you pick up the scattered pieces.

You think back to that night in the park when Minho told you about Japanese vases. At this moment, it dawns on you that Minho has found a way to become a part of you. He was the molten gold binding your broken parts together. He was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together.

Who were you fooling? It was him; it was him all along.

Minho rocks you gently as you cry and cry and cry. His hand finds your hair and he plays with it as you sob. He tells you you'll be okay, you'll feel better and you try to believe him, his words wrap around your bruises like a healing balm.

"There, there, love. You are okay", he murmurs, tenderly patting your head. A fresh set of tears wells up in your eyes. Love.

"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry," you apologize as you pull away from his embrace.

"Why are you apologizing? Is it because you wet my shirt? I don't mind," he reassures you with a smile and you shake your head.

"I was mean to you and you didn’t deserve it," you explain through hiccups.

"It's okay, you weren't mad at me, were you?" he asks, wiping your tears away so gently with his thumbs, careful not to irritate the sensitive skin.

"No. Still, it isn't okay and I’m sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Shh, don't apologize. It's okay." you look at him doubtfully and he rolls his eyes playfully, "Here I’ll even do your silly pinky promise, okay?" he laces his pinky with yours, but then he suddenly leans forward and places a chaste kiss on your thumb pad. "There, sealed forever."

You giggle faintly as a blush dusts your cheeks, "That's not how it works."

"I know."

Your giggle was far different from the ones Minho was accustomed to. It was small, and it didn't brighten up your face like usual. But he was grateful for it nonetheless. He realized how much he missed your laugh, and how all the other sounds in the world pale in comparison to it.

In that moment Minho thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you smile again. He'd make a fool out of himself if it meant making you happy. He'd settle for a simple tug at the corners of your mouth, anything but the sadness that seemed etched in your face, as if it was blended into the colors that drew you.

You tentatively move around, before laying your head on his lap. Minho's hand instinctively finds your hair and he starts to gently play with it. It feels as if you've done this a million times before, when in fact it was the first.

There was something wildly intimate about laying on the floor with the man who just comforted you. It made you want to spill all your secrets to him, one by one, and have him hug you through them.

"Did you mean it? When you said you'll stay?" you felt so vulnerable in his hold, as if he could twist you whoever he liked. But you trusted him. You trusted yourself with Minho.

"I did. Your walls are always up. It's hard to peek behind them. But I don't want to tear them down. I want you to slowly unbuild them. I want you to do it for yourself."

To do it for yourself, it's hard to even know who you are anymore.

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

"Okay. Take your time, kitten." he pats your head gently, and you try to sync your breathing to the rhythm of his touch. You were grateful that you were lying on his lap since you couldn't see his face. It made talking feel a little less daunting.

"On my 9th birthday... I was very excited. I'd been on my best behavior that month, trying to please my mom in the hope that, for once, we'd celebrate my birthday. Like a normal little family," you smile sadly, you were so hopeful back then.

"My birthday came, I woke up, excited. My mom was still asleep, nothing out of the ordinary. So, I made my breakfast and walked to my school. I wore my prettiest dress and put on pigtails with hair clips. It was my birthday after all," Minho smiles softly at your words, his hand now resting on your own.

"I got back home and waited for my mom to come back. She remembered my birthday, I thought. And then, she came but she didn't talk to me. So, I thought, oh a surprise party!" you chuckle, but this time the smile on Minho’s face is gone.

"It was then 11 pm, and the hope had slowly died in me. So, in my stupid innocent self, I went to my mom, and asked her "Did you forget my birthday?". And I remember... I remember the way she laughed. Cruelly. Like I had told her the funniest joke in the world. And then. Then she looked me dead in the eye and said 'I hate the fact that you are born. Why would I celebrate that?'"

Minho sucks in a deep breath at your words, and you exhale one right out. It felt comforting, to have someone else stomach the hurt for you. To take the weight off your shoulders, allowing you a few moments to breathe.

"I confronted her about it one day, but she said she doesn't remember saying that. It's funny how it was a random Thursday for her, but for me, it shaped my life." you smile bitterly, "I remember how jealous I was of the way the other kids talked about their mothers. They said the word so lightly. It must have reminded them of sunshine and ice cream and rainbows. But for me, it held an uncharacteristic heaviness to it. I grew to hate the word."

"I drove myself crazy, Min", you whisper and he brings you closer to his body, "was it me or was it her? When did it start? Was it because I was too loud as a child or maybe too quiet? Did I not cater to her fantasies of a kid? I wanted to remember every single thing that happened throughout my childhood, thread through every single memory. I tried to pinpoint the exact moment my mom stopped loving me."

Minho squeezes your hand tightly in his, and you feel as if he was pulling you away from the memory that had long trapped you. You were now watching it unfold from outside of the window, your hand in his, safe from the hurt it had inflicted on you.

"It's not you. It could never be you. Some people are simply not fit to be parents. It's never their kid's fault."

Minho tries his best to keep his touch soothing, to make his voice sound as soft as possible. But he was angry, he was so angry at the world for not taking care of you when you were younger. His heart broke, thinking of 9-year-old you being told such cruel words.

He wanted to turn back time and tell you that you were enough. He wanted to make the pain that seemed so anchored in you float back to the surface, and dissipate like sea foam meeting the shore.

But he couldn't do that. All he could do is comfort present you.

Minho gently pulls you up from his lap, making you sit upright. He crisscrosses his legs and you do the same. Your knees brush against each other and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You didn't know that even knees could emanate such warmth.

"Yn, look at me. The world wouldn't be the same without you in it," he cradles your face between his hands, "You hear me yn? I’m so thankful you exist."

His doe brown eyes are sincere, and it made you want to believe him badly. That's a good start, right?

"I’ll be back," he tells you, letting go of your face and standing up.

You hear Minho rummaging through the kitchen and you take the time to calm yourself down. Sharing those parts of you with Minho felt therapeutic. As if you were healing parts of your inner child. You have never talked about this with anyone before, maybe this is why it still hurt as badly.

Minho comes back five minutes later, his hands behind his back. You raise a brow at him inquisitively and he just smiles secretly at you. "Close your eyes," he tells you and you giggle, doing as he says. He crouches in front of you, and you hear him shuffle in his place for a bit.

Then, "Open your eyes yn," and you find him, in front of you, a cupcake you had stored in your fridge in his hands, and a makeshift candle lit up. "Happy 9th birthday, love. You did well."

You stare at him in utter bewilderment. You couldn't believe your eyes. How could this man be so thoughtful? He was wishing you a belated birthday, to compensate for the 9th birthday you didn't celebrate.

You panic, at the look in his eyes. You've never seen it, never dared to dream of it, of someone caring for you unconditionally. So, you try to scare him, to push him away. You didn't want him to regret knowing you.

"There are things I need you to know um", you chuckle nervously, "When I... When I throw up, I hold my hair, and when I’m sick I nurse myself back to health, and when I have a nightmare I- I hold my hand in the dark. It will be hard for me to hold yours instead."

"We'll start a finger at a time, yeah?"

"It will take time."

"I have time," he speaks easily, as if loving you was effortless and not a strenuous task. You couldn't fathom it.

"You are too busy-", he cuts you off instantly, "Not for you."

"The world doesn't stop because we need it to." Your voice is quiet; this is your very last try. You are tired of fighting. You are putting down your armor and waving a white flag.

"We'll make it stop. Here, the two of us. On this floor. We'll take as long as we need to."

"I never deemed you as an optimist", you smile a little, a hint of teasing in your tone.

"I’m not," he pauses, gazing down at the cupcake between his hands and then at you. "But I feel that we deserve a bit of happiness together, don't we?"

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

You close your eyes for a few seconds, before blowing on the candle.

"What did you wish for?" he asks a fond smile on his face.

The answer came naturally to you, you didn't even need to think about it. "I wished for you."

Minho's lips come crashing down on yours, and you imagine that this is what it feels like to see colors for the first time. To discover a new world beyond the one you've always known.

The kiss isn't urgent nor feverish, it is one of comfort. Your lips spilling the words you have not yet said to each other. "I love you," he kisses you, "I love you too," you kiss him back. "I need you to stay," you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, "I’m never leaving you," he opens his mouth allowing you entrance.

As you kiss him, you remember a fact you once learned in high school. The human body possesses seven trillion nerves. And for the first time in your life, you feel as if each of these nerves is alive. You feel that even the smallest atom is electrocuted with Minho’s love and it’s all you know within you.

You feel as if the pain, the hurt, and the ache you've been through are slowly unraveled, and in their place, a timid happiness is starting to bloom. You imagine that when Minho’s lips met your own, the seven trillion nerves inside you exhaled in relief 'We've made it', they said, 'we'll finally be okay.'

Epilogue

You've always thought that epilogues were useless. How can you resume the rest of your life in one sentence, boil down the rest of your existence in mere pages? Because life doesn't stop at the epilogue, and a new book can start once again, right where you left it off.

But with Minho, you didn't mind an epilogue. On the contrary, you longed for a soft one. You wanted to rest on this last page, you wanted to lay your worries on the words and tuck them into the syllables. And you wanted to wake up anew.

And this wasn't the end of your story with Minho. A lot happened after it. But it didn't worry you, because epilogues are about the one thing that doesn't change throughout the long march of time. And luckily for you, that constant was Minho’s love for you. From that day he held you, he has never let go.

It took time, for his warmth to seep through your bones. It took time, for your heart to forget the cold. But you wanted to do it. With him. You wanted to love and be loved.

The sound of cats mewling fills your apartment, pudding can always be found in your fridge and you haven't felt invisible in years.

#FINALLY!!! turning the lights down low scattering rose petals lighting candles…my date w invisible thread is upon me at last 🥰#also i’m doing a sahar-style live reaction so apologies if i comment on literally every little thing that happens hehe im excited #hitting me w the clay metaphor right off the bat...i'm in awe of how perfectly you described childhood development w just a single analogy #molding the reader when she’s young n impressionable and leaving those imprints to harden beyond repair even after she's grown #what a beautifully melancholy way to describe her relationship w her mother and how it affects her view of herself i love it so much ㅠ #lesm inho. leemingo. LEMINHO!!! THE LAZY SMILE NOO U ALREADY GOT ME 😭😭😭 it’s so fucking over and i only just started oh my god #his eyes being the first thing she notices when they meet…the reader is just like me fr but describing them as black holes that draw her in #is making me crazy IT’S SO TRUE!!!! the most mesmerizing eyes known to man that warp space n time this comparison is absolutely stunning #the chill in his hand reminding her of a horrible memory like that 😞 so heartbreaking but also such a clever way to give insight into #the reader's character as well as insight into the the type of relationship she n lino will have and how it will likely resurface old wound #“u weren't sure what u would find on the other side nor did u have any desire to find out” u conveyed the odd magnetism of his eyes SO WELL #im very glad she got a higher grade than him i was not prepared for the smugness that would ensue if he beat her -_-; but a detail i really #adore is how casually lino takes the loss i feel like it goes to show that he truly doesnt have any ill intent despite being so provocative #the cat cafe is called limbo PLEASE THATS SO CUTE 😭 lino mimicking her words…n dodging the pillow i cant stand him actually #to be minho is to be insufferable and get away w it…she should throw a brick at his head next (<- madly in love)#oh my god the part where he laughs at her for hitting her head but from that point on covers that edges of the tables to protect her 😭😭😭#i’m going to be sick to my stomach thsi is the most minho expression of care on earth. all the careful linoisms u included are killing me ㅠ #comparing his eyelashes to the wings of a butterfly ARE U KIDDING!! that has me clutching my heart it's such delicate n gentle beauty #i love that he’s just as competitive as the reader but in a much more lighthearted way…he sees it almost like a game whereas she sees it as #a very serious demonstration of her worth. minho eventually becoming the one she wants to prove herself to rather than her mother #is so intensely sweet and heartwrenching at the same time ): in just a few months he's shown her a healthier love than her mother ever did #THEIR FIRST SNOW TOGETHER NONONO 😭 this entire scene has me inconsolable oh my god LINO W HIS SNOWBALL HE IS SO ANNOYINGLY CUTE #“u cant decide if ur shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him” critical hit on my heart…u painted such a #lovely picture of his laughter i can clearly envision his wild giggles and the way his entire body laughs w him when he’s really excited ㅠ #I WAS GONNA COMMENT ON THE SNOW NOT SPARKING THAT SAME AWFUL MEMORY THIS TIME 😭 his laughter brought her so much warmth she didnt even have #the chance to think abt it i'm so devastated by this parallel…little by little she’s healing w him and melting the frost her mother left #the way the reader grabs her fork to threaten him like he did w the spoon HELP theyre rubbing off on each other without even realizing it #every character detail u included is so well thought out u did a brilliant job ㅠㅠ it makes them human and the story all the more immersive #lino letting her eat first while he cooks the meat and him blushing everywhere when she feeds him MY BABY 😞💔 he thinks he’s so slick…#asking how she’d dispose of a body over dinner…lee minho master of romance everyone 🙏 but literally OF COURSE HE WOULD

6K notes · View notes

tonycries · 5 days ago

Text

Madam.

Synopsis. Your clan leader husband only wants one thing - an heir.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! JJK men, BRÉEDING, creampíes, talks of heirs, they’re REALLY pússydrúnk, cúmplay, exhibítionism (Geto, Gojo), the elders, use of “ma’am” and “madam”, overstím, making him shoot BLANKS, matíng presses, chokíng, true form Sukuna, dp, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. If this doesn’t post I’m living up to my username.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Madam Zenin

“Please-” Toji’s panting out in ragged heavals, teeth sinking into any raw inch of unclaimed skin down the tender column of your neck. “Please- t-take-”

And he can’t even finish his sentence, can’t even finish his staggering gasp when his toned hips thwack like he was going painfully out of control.

With a leering groan, his strong arm slams! down to grasp desperately onto the headboard overhead, mouth dipping thoroughly drunkenly to press wet peck after peck onto your lips.

“Oh- oh-” He thumbs urgently down the side of your bulging folds to coat each and every one of his thick digits in a sheeny gloss of white. Eyes drooping half-shut when he’s popping those sopping wet fingers into his mouth. Tasting. “Oh, look at that- s’like she’s jus’ begging f’me to hngh- fill her up all over again, ma.”

“T-Toji–” Your nails claw angry red pathways down his flexing deltoids, in a way that Toji would let only you do. “Don’t know if a-anymore will fit-”

“B-but aren’t ya gonna give me an ah- heir, madam?”

With a roughened grunt, he’s jostling your limp legs to lock up even tighter around his neck, the sloppiest mating press he’d even manhandled you into. Baring such a feral grin that makes you realize within your heady mind that neither of you just might be making it out of tonight alive.

You don’t even know how it started - didn’t have a clue. One minute you’re at another stuffy clan gathering, speaking with a few other clan leaders from across the country; and the next, Toji’s all but dragging you towards the closest bedroom in your estate.

Rotund knees slipping and sliding across that ever-growingly sticky pool of seed dawning on the silken blankets.

But Toji can’t even bring himself to be disgusted, no, he wants more.

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck s’too deep- hngh-”

“No-” he chokes out throatily. “S’not deep enough.”

Shakily, he’s splaying out his greedy fingers about halfway across your stomach, swiping across for that familiar nudge where he can feel his swollen tip glide wet gushes of swelteringly hot precum across your bruised g-spot. Where he was knocking into your very womb-

“There.” And without any warning, he’s pressing down - hard. Mean mouth dropping softly in awe at those saccharine sweet dredges of his cum drooling down your thighs, drip drip dripping in thick ribbons to paint a creamy ring around his reddened base. “N-now ya have space, dontcha, doll?”

One of his calloused palms slides down to attach to your squirming waist. “Don’t- don’t run away, ma—” And you swear you could hear his rumbling baritone crack ever-so-slightly at the very end of his words. Hips sloppying up the very insides of your thighs with every harsh smack! “Haven’t f-filled up this cute cunt all the way yet- ah h-haven’t oh- fucked a baby into ya.”

The rounded edges of his digits swirl in such a sultry way around your soppingly wet clit, leaving tiny swats! that make the puddle of cum and your sweet, sweet slick splatter. “S-see, so much of it gone to ah- waste. How am I s-s’pposed to show off to those fuckers who my pretty hngh- wife is. The pretty momma of my heirs–?”

Your bleary eyes snap open, a broken whine on the very edge of your heavy tongue. “S-so this is what s’all about- you were j-”

But his rummaging thrusts are too much. Inch after girthy inch being fed into your drooling pussy, you could feel his voluminous loads of cum sloshing around your gummy walls. Clinging to you so syrupy - and Toji couldn’t stop.

He didn’t even know if he could cum again, whether it was possible. But fuck, if he wasn’t going to try.

Dark brows scrunching together in ecstasy, strands of his soft hair sticking to his sweat-simmered forehead. His body hunches over with such a sensitive gasp, skin burning when he’s feeling his fat, cum-filled balls squeeze. Once. Twice.

Driving him mad.

“Y-yeah so what-” he’s grumbling out gutturally, and his eyes roll to the very back of his head. “Shit, hate those m-meetings. Hate those no-good bastards.” Teeth tugging on your wobbly bottom lip, “-so what if I wan’ show off- to have you so round and- and glowing that they know what I did, ma?”

The thought is enough for him to bark out a drunken bout of laughter. Humorless. Sleazy. Over and over where he’s rummaging at your melty insides. “They’ll know they’ll know- oh, th-they’ll know how I made ya mine.” Smearing a wet glide of seed down your throbbingly neglected clit. “How I hngh- f-fucked a baby into ya. How s’me that filled ya up- all me-”

And it’s just about all it takes for you to cum - for him to cum.

But Toji’s so fucking hypnotized by your heavenly pussy that he barely even realizes at first. Just letting his entire hulking body shudder with a trail of violent shivers, bowing enough to graze that raised scar of his positioned on his lips against yours. Soft. “Gonna be the clan momma- hngh- clan ah-”

Scratching back and forth back and forth back and forth- while he’s cumming blanks.

Angry, sobbing divot at the very end of his length shooting out wispy little beads of white. Again. And again.

You’re seeing stars behind your eyes and Toji- Toji might just be seeing heaven. With you right there, his pretty angel.

And he feels your skin underneath his sharpened canines. Biting into the crook of your neck so hard it was like he was out for blood.

“Me-” he giggles. Giggles. Shamelessly bringing forth two rude fingers to pry open your whiny mouth, “Me me me me- every other clan’s gonna see you and- hah- see me-” Punctuated with drippingly wet ruts of his hips, not even thrusts anymore. He didn’t have the sanity. And he spits a wad of honeyed saliva right onto your taste-buds, “-because you’re mine, aren’t ya, madam?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Madam Nanami

Nanami thinks he might just be drunk - hypnotized - anything and everything that’s keeping him from paying attention to the important clan meeting currently at hand.

And of course, it was utterly your fault.

“My love…” Nanami’s deepened voice hums lowly in your ear from behind. His thick fingers curl roughly around your waist, holding your shifting hips in place. “We’re at a meeting.”

You’re batting your lashes as the haughty elders speaking over each other, sounding so utterly unapologetic when you leer smugly up at your husband. “What? M’jus’ getting-” And he can only suck in a shudderingly sharp gust of air when you grind your ass down even harder on his lap, dragging your sodden panties up to where he was rock-hard. “-comfortable, Ken.”

Over and over. Your puffed-up pussy lips positioned just above his fat, weepy head.

It’s been like this for too long now. And Nanami could feel his sanity dancing away, he could feel it building up within him. He was going to-

His drunkenly half-lidded eyes veer down at you, and you catch the way that his stern jaw clenches. Gritting through clenched teeth, “You’re going to be in trouble, ma’am.”

“So what?”

SLAM!

And it’s like Nanami couldn’t stand up fast enough, couldn’t shove your pretty body down onto the cool mahogany urgently enough. One hand of his long fingers curled around your throat, the other flicking towards the door, “All of you out. Now.”

Not even bothering to look towards whether or not they’d scrambled towards the door before your seepingly soaked panties are pulled just enough to the side.

He grunts, “Pretty–”

Barely even a split-second later before you’re being stuffed with inch after veined inch of Nanami’s girthy cock. He’s letting his head fall backwards, a leering dribble of drool placing down the corner of his lips already, toned hips snapping forwards at the clingy push and pull of your slobbering cunt.

And it feel so unfairly good when he sinks in with a few ragged breaths, so unfairly heavenly-

“Spit.” Nanami’s choking out, mouth falling slack, sculpted front pressed down bruisingly at your back. Keeping you stuck pinned underneath nothing but him and his mercilessly pressurized jackhammers. And you do - saccharine sweet saliva hitting his tongue- “Fuck fuck fuck, you feel s-so-”

And the clan leader can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed, can’t do anything but slur out a staggered mantra of your name over and over when that’s all it takes for him to cum.

Voice lilting up to a pathetic pitch, every wavering gush of seed having his head lolling. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, he heaves.

Far from finished.

“Can’t- can’t believe I-” The back of one of his thumbs comes to dredge up the gleaming white sheen of cum, and he’s going wild with the honeyed taste on his tongue as soon as he’s sucking. “Oh, were ya th-this wet throughout the entire ah- meeting, my love?”

You shiver at the way his still-fattened cockhead was nudging you open, the stretch so maddening. Your cunt so tight. “M-maybe-”

Smack!

And it’s like he’s thoroughly drunk on your pussy already when his soft palm splays out across the sting on your ass, gushing out in another sticky ribbon of seed down your g-spot. And another. He couldn’t stop- You can feel it swiveling slowly around your elastic walls.

Fuck, just your tone makes his hefty balls squeeze, so tight and painful with every stingingly wet thwack! thwack! thwack! against your cunt.

He hauls you upwards like some ragdoll with the vice-like grip around your throat. “Th-tha’s not ‘nough, darling-” he’s purring, nosing down your neck. “The m-madam’s gotta use her ngh- big girl words, no?”

You feel those tufts of blond scratch teasingly against the fat of your ass, rummaging the swollen length of his cock down every nook and cranny he could reach - every single one. Thump thump thumping! furiously against all of your tenderized sweetened spots. “C’mon now- tell me. Tell me what ya want so badly.”

“P-please-” Your mouth slacks in awe, “Want you to cum inside- to bre-”

Because Nanami Kento would give his madam anything. Anything.

Even if that has him pummeling his achingly hard cock into your even further, deftly covering your mouth with one of his palms. He’s huffing out in a feverish puff against your ear, “Mhm- did s-so well- now let your hngh- husband take care of it now, honey-” Kissing down the side of your forehead, he hikes up one muscular thigh to drivel his cock into you sloppier. Wrenching out loud squelches. “-let’s hear what this p-pretty pussy has to say now- let’s let’s hear-”

He was out of control.

Oh, he’s like a broken record, fighting with every shred of will left in his hunched-over body to stop his babbling mouth.

Pressing gentle kiss after kiss all over your face, fingers at your neck tightening. While his hips were rattling off the most mean crashes into your g-spot.

“I think–she’s saying-” Nanami’s dark groan sends shivers down your spine, hissing through his bared canines when your back arches even sluttier. Jostling at the perfect angle for him to pool the trail of milky cum dribbling from your soppingly wet lips onto two pads of his fingers, a glistening gloss all the way down to his wrist. And, this time, he’s plugging the creamy wads back into your overly stuffed cunt. Bullying. Stretching. “-that…”

Shit, he was going to cum again.

You felt too good. And he swears he’s going to marry you all over again.

“Wh-what-” you’re crying. Begging. Knees weakening to such an extent that your husband was gladly supporting your full body weight with one big beefy arm wrapped snugly around your waist. “-tell me, K-Ken-”

Ah, he truly was nothing against you.

He rasps in a low whisper against your ear, “-that I wanna make ya a pretty momma, my love.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Madam Geto

“Easy, girl, easy–” Geto’s silken purr made your thighs just quiver, gasps stuttering in your throat. “You could think of it as jus’ you n’ me.”

And he’s batting his dewy lashes down at you - his wife - shit, just thinking of the word was enough to have his cock twitch animalistically inside the very depths of your snug cunt.

Glissading his soft palms underneath your thighs to spread them even shamefully wider, making you keen at the utterly mean way he was folding you into a full nelson - all for them to see through the bed’s half-opaque curtains. The elders. The council. His pearly white teeth sink into your ear lobe, eyes drooping more and more close-lidded with every one of your squelching clenches. “Or…we could give ‘em a show?”

Ah, truly, this was Geto’s least favorite part of the marriage initiation - being watched on your wedding night. Or, at least, it was.

He feels drunk on your pretty pussy already when he’s rutting up in mindless, languid drags of his hefty cock down your velvety walls. Filing up every free inch of space inside your snug cunt with his swollen cock - every free inch.

You’re sputtering out at his ragged pace, squirming down sultry gyrations against his defined hips. “W-wan’ to give them a show, Sugu-”

And oh that was enough to have your all-new husband’s eyes rolling to the back of his head, to have his humorless bout of laughter ring in your ear. Dangerous. “The new madam’s gonna be the death of me, g-gorgeous-”

He was already planting pound after pound on all your most tender spots, fucking away like he was addicted to the lewd smack of skin-on-skin. Loud enough to drown out those low mutters from around the bed. About to lose it if he couldn’t feel the smoothened drag of your elastic walls massaging down his veins for just a second-

“Really wanna give ‘em a hngh- sh-show?” Geto’s echoing against your ear, still in utter disbelief at those filthy, filthy words spilling from your sweet mouth. Slender fingers glide across to your puffy clit, pinching. “Then how about–” Fucking heaving for air, scrambling to prattle out coherently, “-ya show ‘em jus’ how the next Geto heir is made.”

His hips are stuttering up at an almost inhuman pace, long locks splaying out into those plush pillows. Shit, the only thing keeping his head still held up was the sight of you down below.

The way your ravaged pussy lips were bulging around his fat girth, struggling to take him entirely even after so long. But swallowing and swallowing so greedily that it made his throat dry, eyes blinking open desperately to catch the way his twitchy balls smacked your drooling cunt.

“The next h-heir?” The words are just now registering, and just about all you can do right now is let your head loll backwards to graze a wet kiss along Geto’s blooming pink lips. “M’gonna make ya a d-daddy?”

Fuck- he rams his hips up thoroughly. Stuffing you full of so many of his staggering, solid inches that you’re being fucked stupid.

“Yes, ma’am.” Geto pants out, and you feel his curvaceous pecs heave up and down with each of his ragged breaths. “-g-gonna let me make you a pretty hah- momma, aren’t ya?” Craning his arm around to press onto your womb, smear his palms through every inch of skin he could reach. “Let me f-fill ya up? Have you all hngh round n’ glowing f’me? Pretty- gonna be s-so so pretty–”

God, his voice was so hypnotic.

But no one was thrown into a more feverish desperation than Geto himself.

He’s letting plaster a pussydrunken grin at the stares around your sweat-slicked bodies - some wide, some downturned, all shocked at just how completely he was ruining you.

Ruining himself.

Because soon enough shaky babbles are wrenching out from his lips, unsteady. Needy. “Makes me wanna m-marry ya I swear-”

Planting his two feet flat on the bouncy mattress to ram his weepy cockhead in rummaging swipes even faster, head whirling at every gushing clench. He leaves teary, overstimulated kisses down the side of your face. “-make you my hngh- wife- my madam. Make you the m-mother of my heir.”

You’re giggling, barely-lucid yourself. “M’already your ah- wife, Sugu–”

Fuck-

He didn’t think those would be the very words to send him over the edge - hell, he didn’t think his orgasm would be crashing into him this hard, either. Good, it felt too good.

Because you melty walls mold around him so tightly that Geto whines at how difficult it was for him to be spearheading his fat cock into your gooey insides. So cozy - and then you’re gushing.

Making his overworked, achy mouth fall in awe at the sheer way your dripping cunt was coating him in seeping wet waves of your juices. Glossing him in a translucent sheen - so fucking heavenly that he almost doesn’t realize that he’s cumming.

Pouring out thick stringy wads of his seed that french kisses the very bottom of your pussy. There’s so much of it that Geto can feel his swollen balls jolt, a swirling coat of cum creaming down his shaft.

Oozing out slowly, in a way that makes his mouth water, “You’re right–” he breathes. So quiet, so broken that it takes a second for your ringing ears to hear him. He chuckles, “-so now m’only b-behind on givin’ you my ah- heir.”

In a split-second, his powerful reflexes are pinning your back flat against the soft mattress, puffing out all the air out of your lungs with just how greedily he was shoving you. Your legs thrown over his shoulders, sliding at the perspiration, his cock smack! smack! smacking right on your clit.

Geto tilts his head towards your initiation audience, grinning. “Better keep yer heads down while I f-fuck the future mother of my ah- kids. Or I’ll kill ya.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Madam Kamo

“F-fuuuuck-” Choso really can’t help the way that his rawly red lips fall slack, he really can’t help the way his eyes droop even more pussydrunkenly lower. On his knees. Tongue lolling out to drag roughly across your sopping wet folds. “Might jus’ be addicted, baby—”

Your fingers thread even tighter into this long, sweat-dampened strands of hair. Tugging, pulling - but no amount of force could ever stop Choso Kamo from French-kissing his way to your clit.

“Ch-Cho you have to be oh-” you’re cut off with a sudden surging moan. Frantically covering your mouth with your free hand when he wraps his lips around your sensitive nub and sucks. “-t-to be quiet. We’re gonna get caught.”

That tiny inkling of rationality in Choso’s syrupy mind knows that maybe the chambers of his childhood estate wasn’t the best of places to utterly ravage you.

Knows that maybe - just maybe - he should tone down those honeyed squelches being reeled from your sopping wet cunt. Push back the rasping ah! ah! ah! resounding at the back of his throat, if he didn’t want to be caught by the rest of the Kamo clan.

But oh, you just tasted so good-

“C-can’t help it, baby–” the clan leader’s whining, teary lashes fluttering up at you. Shoving you weakly standing against the wall, pouty mouth twisting into a delirious smile, “-why did you have to g-go n’ act all motherly with hngh- Yuji.”

Shit, those drawling words almost hurt Choso to be able to wrench out. They threw his mind into such a syrupy state, and had his swollen, achy cock twitch with another ribbony ooze of translucent precum. Drip! drip! dripping through his yukata and onto the tatami floor.

With a pathetically broken whimper, he’s gripping on tight to the fattened hilt of his shaft. Hissing at the stark coldness against his swelteringly hot length, “Shouldn’t h-have done that oh- shouldn’t have-”

He was addicted.

Burying himself in so deep that Choso doesn’t even need air right now. Nose meshing against the very top of your drooling pussy lips, chin grinding against you with each trail of his scorching hot tongue back and forth back and forth back and-

“Sh-shit, Cho-” you’re gasping, back arching in such a slutty bow. “-that i-is what this is all about?”

It was. But right now he couldn’t even think of describing exactly what those tiny, domestic gestures did to him. How it’d awoken such a deep, primal part of himself.

So instead, he’s jostling one of your weakening thighs up onto his broad shoulder. Roughly attaching the pads of his fingers onto your wrist, tongue only growing more hypnotically hungry. “Love you-” he spits into your pussy. Wet, sopping wads of spit that connect in delicate strings all the way down to the lower half of his innocently flushed face. “-love you love you, my madam. Love you so-” His noble cheeks hollow around your clit, “-much. Hgnh- love you- what a p-perfect momma you’d make, baby–”

And then suddenly your ears feel like popping when your body wracks with waves of your orgasm. Over and over you’re cumming on Choso’s pretty face and he’s loving it.

Guiding both of your trembly hands onto his head, he makes you drag your slobbering cunt all down his features - using him.

Wrist aching with just how fast he was swirling his thick thumb around his rotund head, up and down up and down.

“Yeah- yeah-” his words are hoarse little whines. Eyes half-lidded shut at the gushing waves of your saturated slick, he’s blowing sloppy kisses around your winking hole. “Use me- use me. A-anything for you, baby- please- s’more baby– my wife-”

It practically hurts to pull away.

And your dripping pussy is left with the final vibrations of Choso’s disappointed moan- before he’s surging up unsteadily onto two feet.

One of his massive palms resting greedily underneath the globes of your ass, hoisting you up to kiss the very edges of your swollen folds with his fat cockhead. Gliding across a see-through glisten of precum before he’s cumming.

“Fuck.”

“Shhh, q-quiet, baby-”

Choso wrangles his fingers deftly around his thickened base, biting down hard on his lower lip when he squeezes out dripping wet load after load onto into your sloppy entrance. Fucking his hand ever-so-slightly to just milk out more and more, “C-can I put it inside, baby? Please, baby?” His babbling mouth drags against your own, not even capable of managing a kiss right now. “-wanna fill you up n’ make you allll mine, y’know? Wanna- please.”

You let out a honeyed giggle, smoothing down the big fat tears that’d started to roll their way down Choso’s eyes. “Of course, you can. No n-need to be shy, Cho.”

And you’re barely even finishing your sentence, the words only halfway registering Choso’s hazy brain before he’s plugging you full of his circular girth. “G-god jus’ being inside s’making me hngh cum again.” Streaming out whatever dredges are left of his cum-filled balls. “Please- give me an heir- please- a lil baby-”

It’s trailing down the end of your puffy slit, and Choso can’t help but gasp a sharp inhale when he’s pooling the milky dribble on his fingers. “D-do you think this got you p-pregnant, baby?”

“Maybe…” you’re humming in that smug tone that does anything but wonders for his sanity. “Might hafta hah- try it out again jus’ to make sure, don’t you think, Mr. Clan leader?”

There’s a sudden clack! as he’s dropping to his knees, barely even giving you a second to realize anything before Choso’s ravenous mouth was heated on your messy cunt once more.

Dragging his tongue across the milky outer layer, so filthy. Every pearlescent bead pooling on his tongue - and he just spits it back sloppily onto your cunt. Depraved.

“B-be quiet f’me, baby–” he’s hushing you in a drunken soothe. “Gotta make space.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Madam of Curses

“Kuna…” Your babbles are music to the king’s ears, and he can feel his sleazy grin plastered all over his face already. “-I-I want…”

Smack!

“Now, what have I told ya, brat?” The sharpened lengths of his black fingernails brush up on your plump clit. Sukuna’s rumbling warning blooms such delicious clenches of your gummy walls around his jostling cocks, forcing him to hold back a moan, “If ya want somethin’, don’t stutter.”

Well, Ryomen Sukuna would give you the moon if you so much as glanced at it with want - stutter or not. But times like this made his swollen tips twitch to tease those irritated mewls out of you.

You’re stubbornly wrapping your trembly arms around his hulking shoulders, just barely able to wrap around his muscles. Glassy eyes narrowing, “I want a baby, Kuna-”

Fuck, you might just have broken him. You’ve finally defeated the strongest sorcerer in history. Because those very words spilling from your pretty lips have his chest heaving with a deep inhale, his entire body bowing when his angry cocks gush excitedly inside of you. Smearing your melty walls with wave after dangerous wave of his steaming hot precum.

“Wh-what?” he’s hissing through clenched canines, devilish red eyes honing in on you as if you were his next meal. Hauling your body all the way down those silken sheets, until he’s spearheading his rotund tips right into your cervix. “Don’t talk outta ya pussy, woman.”

“B-but it’s true-” you’re sobbing at this point. Batting your lashes at him in a way that he knew you were pulling out your dirtiest tricks. “-dontcha hngh- want an heir, baby?”

Heir.

Oh, fuck. Heir.

Just the word has Sukuna’s head throwing backwards, snarling growls ripping from his strangled throat when his hefty balls clench in excitement. Just the word enough to get him to cum, but no-

“No.” His hot breath blankets your face, and before you’re able to bare him with that glossy pout of yours, Sukuna sinks his teeth into your bottom lip. Pulling. “I want two.”

And it’s like something snaps.

Because in an instant, he’s flipping the two of you over, until your snug cunt was filled to the brim with both matchingly hefty cocks. Sliding down, down, down. Sukuna’s creeping one of his large hands to your thighs, nudging them even more shamefully open.

He’s gifting the curve of your ass with a stinging swat, grinning, “If ya wan’ my heirs s-so badly then ride me for it, brat.”

And fuck, Sukuna underestimated how sheerly eager you’d be, shuffling your hand precariously onto his bulging pecs. Bouncing up and down on the rock-hard upright curve of his cocks like you were addicted to it.

God, he could feel those hoarse whimpers bubbling up into his throat. He could feel the way his heavy lids were fluttering shut every time your velvety walls constricted tightly around his girths, swirling around in wet gyrations.

And he finds it in himself to laugh - laugh, “Oh- oh god, I shoulda done this hngh- sooner. Soo much sooner-” Running those pinkish strands hastily out of his eyesight to drink you in even better, “Woulda b-been able to see what a cockdrunk slut the madam of curses becomes f’me, isn’t that right?”

All you can do is nod pathetically, and he’s gesturing his head much the same way in a half-mocking sense. Simpering, “Mhm– really wan’ me to fuck- fill you right up-” Running down one of his palms across your abdomen, “-here, right? Want to get p-pregnant on my cocks, brat? Should jus’ said so sooner-”

Sukuna can’t stop now. He doesn’t even know when it started but right now that slurring nonsense was tumbling out of his slack-jawed mouth faster than he could register it.

Rutting his hips up like an animal to plant pound after pound into your already battered insides, rummaging around his fat cocks.

One of his mean thumbs comes up to massage over that inflationary little bump where he could feel himself spearheading into your g-spot and your cervix. At the same time. “Jus’ like this, heh- j-jus’ like this but yer gonna be ngh- so much rounder, s-so much-” And one of his globular divots weep a stream of milky precum. So close. “-fuller. Gonna give me t-two, huh? Two brats- a girl and a boy.”

Milking himself for all that he’s worth, it’s impossible not to get absolutely hypnotized by the sultry grinds of your hips.

It’s all that he can think about right now.

Sukuna feels his tongue loll out - both of them, much larger one veering from that slit on his stomach to drag sloppy stripes up the areas of your puffed up clit. Rolling over the very peak, “Ngh- gonna have y-your pretty eyes n’ my hair. My strength and fuuuuck- so tight- your smile.” His eyes clench droopingly closed, glaring up at you lovingly. “Isn’t that right, my queen?”

And when you cum, it’s with those same eyes on you - and when he does, shit, they’re rolling to the back of his head.

Decadently royal bed creaking with protest at the aggressive crushes of your sweat-sheened bodies. Sukuna couldn’t get enough when one of his angrily rugged cocks cums, the swirling slosh of his warm seed spurring the other to burst just as much.

“Sh-shit-” you’re gasping, toes curling with the explosion of bliss. Peak after peak being fucked out when your shaky knees firm to ride Sukuna out of his mind. “So much- too much- fuck fuck fuck-”

He’s stirring your insides until you’re overspilling, flashes of white-hot pleasure melding with the steady stream of Sukuna’s voluminous cum seeping from your wet slit.

So much of it that he really can’t help but swipe his larger tongue easily across the absolute mess of a puddle. And you swear you hear his voice crack, “Heh, guess ya r-really were talking outta ya ngh- pussy, huh, woman?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Madam Gojo

“Let them see-” Gojo’s panting, fingers so jittery where he’s pushing your trembly leg apart. Abs rippling and aching with just how long he’s been wracking his fatigued body. He’s kissing hungrily at your lips, “Let them- let them see- fuck I don’t care don’t-”

And Gojo can’t even bear to think about finishing his sentence before he’s being hit with another vicious clench of his sensitive balls. Heaving out another burst of stars behind his eyes. He throws his head back, teeth grit when his angry cockhead spazzes with another dry orgasm.

You’re blinking back the tears in your eyes, reaching up and arm to wipe away his own. “S-s’okay, Toru- we’ve been at this for hngh- hours.”

“No-” Gojo gasps, snowy brows knitting together furiously. And he’s shaking his head like he’s trying to wash away any thoughts of stopping. Because Gojo Satoru didn’t want to stop. Didn’t know if he could stop.

His bleary eyes focus on the circle of elders standing stock-still at the very end of the traditional tatami room, heads bowed so low that they touched the floor.

“I’ve got s-somethin’ to prove-” And another one of his harsh French-kisses into your very bruised cervix sends a gush of his stringy cum glossing down your inner thighs. Slipping and smearing everywhere when Gojo messily dances his fingers up to roll over your puffed-up clit. “-got to show ‘em. T-talking about fuck- my wife n’ my h-heir. Gonna show them-”

And you’ve never seen him this furious, blazing eyes driving down your body. Seeping into every one of his lewd movements when he’s drilling his swollen cock into your dripping cunt even more riotously.

No care or concern for the marks he’s sure to leave for the next week at least - his curvaceous balls on your ass, your ankles on his shoulders, fingers everywhere and anywhere on any bit of skin that his ravenous self could reach.

Gojo couldn’t get enough.

Your pussy lips like velvet, swallowing him up inch by solid inch so greedily despite however long it’s been by now. An hour? Two hours? Five? Fuck, he doesn’t even know right now. Doesn’t care.

Doesn’t care what those shuffling elders have to think, either.

Can’t even imagine thinking about anything but stuffing your tight channel overly full, eyeing down with his hazy gaze at the way that makes his seed salivate out of you. He twists his deft fingers on your clit, it’s enough for your teeth to just sink into the tender junction at his throat.

And it makes him cum.

Sensitively. Depravedly.

Over and over in dry grinds of his hips, while his overstimulated head wrenches out nothing but wispy little beads of pearling white.

“A-again?” you’re gasping. Eyes blowing wide and resting on Gojo’s fucked-out face - oh how pretty the clan leader looked. With his innocently rosy blush, and eyes drooping so low it’s like they were almost shut, mouth pecking syrupy glides across yours. “Did you just ah- c-cum again, Toru?”

He shutters his head into your throat, darting out his tongue to run down that rapidly thumping pulse of yours. “Yes, madam. Your pretty pussy’s got me s-so fuck- hooked. Can’t s-stop-”

But he wanted to cum again. Properly, this time.

To fill you up over and over, adding another layer to the sloppy skin of creamy white that already stuck to your cunt. He was going to make those old gossips pay for having your name in their filthy mouths, for implying that their leader doesn’t fuck you properly if you haven’t had an heir by now.

He was simply going to show it to them.

“Need- ah- need you to cum f’me a-again, sweetheart-” Gojo’s babbling out the words, but his greedy eyes are locked on the sinful sight of your cunt, instead. “C-can you do that? Can the future m-mother of my kids do that?” It pains him to be slurring these out over your pretty keens, and he’s swiping a finger over and over on your clit as a tiny apology. “C’mon now, n-need to give me an mmpf- heir, right?”

You nod, hips arching up to make you feel like such a slut. “W-want it so badly–”

“I know, honey, I know–” his words come out in raw whimpers, cupping your face with his free hand to connect your foreheads together. “Which is wh-why you’ve gotta shit- cum, right? They say you don’t get p-pregnant if the hah- mother doesn’t cum, hm? C’mon baby, gimme an heir- please, please, please let me breed you f-full-”

It’s just about all the garbled mess he’s able to get out of his mouth before Gojo’s reeling you headfirst towards your nth orgasm of the night. Waves of pleasure making you convulse underneath him, forcing his big beefy arms to wrap around your waist to get you to stop moving-

“Shit-” he’s gasping, eyes blowing almost comically wide. “M’cumming, sweetheart- m’cumming again- fuck fuck fuck- can’t stop, can’t h-hold back.”

His drool-worthy back muscles flex when Gojo’s bending all the way down to snap you in half. And you feel his heavy hanging balls twitch once. Twice. Before flooding your tight pussy with thick, smearing loads of cum, glissading down your thighs.

Spurts of it splatter down your slit, all the way to Gojo’s wrist when he’s circling your throbbing clit to wring you even harder through your high.

“Th-there we- there we go-” he’s shuddering, bursts of his hefty gulps of cum swirling around all of your sweetened spots. Stretching out your taut walls to their limits with how much he was inflating you from the insides. And it takes everything in Gojo to stray his eyes away from his wife - from his madam. Everything in him to focus on the crowd of silent elders, “So- s’that ‘nough of an heir for you or do I hafta make another one?”

A/N. Also hugging my babygirls in the US of A extra tight tonight <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

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bilboyagathechickenfootedhobbit · 2 months ago

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My kid keeps saying he wants to be a cop, sorry, pOLiCe OfFiCeR, and like……I have to remind myself that he’s SIX and he doesn’t KNOW cops, so in his mind he sees it as a way to help people and keep people safe and help society follow rules and justice, all of which are things he’s super big on, which is GOOD! Young boys should grow up feeling a sense of duty to their community, and with a desire to help those that cannot help themselves. Young girls have that instilled in them from birth, but most people raise young boys to think that it’s women’s jobs to do all the caring and nurturing and frankly, I’m over it. If men want to be protectors, fine. Raise protectors. Raise young boys who see the injustices on the playground and speak up about them. Raise young boys who understand the differences and diversity of people and who work to bring equity to situations. Raise young boys who want to be cops, lawyers, judges, politicians, not for power or money but because they want to right the wrongs of the world. Raise young boys who recognize their privilege in this world and USE IT FOR GOOD.

So I have to remind myself that my son doesn’t want to be a cop because he wants to bully and harm people; that’s my understanding of law enforcement after four decades in America. He wants to do good and in his mind, law enforcement is the best way to do that. And I need to encourage that sense of justice and his willingness to help, because society is going to spend the rest of his life trying to squash the compassion out of him because it’s “girly” to care. He is constantly asked if he is a girl because he’s very gnc and pretty, but also because he is very compassionate and gentle. I want him to know that his kind heart is an asset, that being kind and looking out for people is how men SHOULD behave, despite what society tells him. That if he wants to be a protector, then his ability to care and relate to others will take him much farther than a propensity towards violence will. Protecting doesn’t always mean violence. Sometimes protecting people means codifying laws, or providing more societal support. Men don’t want to believe that they can protect women any other way than violence against other men. There are better ways to help and protect women and children. And if my kid still wants to be a cop in twelve years, I hope that it’s still because he wants to do good in the world and help serve his community. I have faith in him (and my parenting) and his sense of right and wrong.

#personal #bilbobawks #he really is so sweet #he was going out to see his Auntie today and told us he wanted to take some vinyl records for her to borrow #we’re a weird analog family #and he picked out his two favorite records and was like ‘I love these so much and I want her to hear them because I love her so much and I #want her to be as happy as I am when I listen to these records.’#I was like ‘you know she’ll have them for a whole week or two right? and you won’t be able to listen to them that whole time?’#and he was like ‘Mommy she let me borrow her favorite Taylor Swift album. that’s worth at least two of my favorite records.’#and he makes paintings for his cousins covered in hearts because ‘that’s how much I love her. fifteen hearts.’#and he writes how much he loves me on the whiteboard in his room #and he picks which book he wants to read next based on what my favorite is #which is why we’re OBVIOUSLY reading Matilda right now #and why he wanted to be Elrond for Halloween last year #he’s just really sweet and kind and gentle and I don’t want the world to beat that out of him #I’m glad he has a lot of kind friends #mostly girls but he has at least one boy friend who is just as kind and sweet as him #they always ask each other before they hug and sometimes they say yes and sometimes no but they always respect the answer #watching six year old boys ask consent and honor it even for a hug is just…..fuck it gives me hope #anyway……ramblies #feminism #motherhood #parenting #kids #oh dear she’s radfem aligned and a mother whatever shall we do #call the feminism police she’s doing it wrong #😂😂😂

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subbmissivesuccubus · 8 months ago

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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."

#subby writes #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba smut #uzui smut #rengoku smut #obanai smut #sanemi smut #gyomei smut #giyuu smut #demon slayer #obanai x reader #sanemi x reader #giyuu x reader #gyomei x reader #uzui x reader #rengoku x reader

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gutsby · 2 months ago

Text

Make It Stick

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel never thought he’d need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected-peepaw-p-in-v (I’m sorry). Accidental creampie. Age gap. Cumplay. Breeding kink. Ovulation has led me places I wouldn’t go with a gun.

Note: Convergence is a painting by Jackson Pollock. We studied it in high school and I thought it looked like jizz idk

Word count: 4.7k

He should’ve gotten snipped when he had the chance.

Should’ve taken the plunge, faced his fears of needles and fluorescent-washed doctor’s offices like any man his age could have done and gotten the damn vasectomy. Now he was here, nearly two decades older and still none the wiser in this cold, dead world with a pretty young thing like you between his sheets. In lieu of elective surgery, Joel Miller had only to grit his teeth, bite hard, and repeat over and over again in his head, desperate:

‘Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, DON’T—’

Words like those normally worked. With women that weren’t you, they tended to serve him exceedingly well.

But you were just so tight. And wet. And welcoming. And try as Joel might to pretend like he got laid on a regular basis, the truth was that he didn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t seem to think straight when it came to this fixation he’d developed for you, so, instead, he let his dick do all the decision-making whenever he found himself around you. Ten times out of ten that ended in:

“J-J-Joel—oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—I’m gonna CUM.”

And that made it worth every last life-endangering drop.

Feeling how your flushed, lithe body came apart beneath his touch. How you needed him. How your eyes grew to half the size of your face and you gaped up at the man, lips parted, like you couldn’t even comprehend how the friction of seven inches could make you feel so good.

If he had it his way, he would’ve loved nothing more than to show you that feeling every night, and twice the next morning if his hip wasn’t giving him too much trouble.

But, at present, the man had bigger fish to fry. Like not becoming a new father at fifty-nine if he could help it.

With the last two fluttering pulses of your heat, and almost going cross-eyed from the pleasure as he felt it, Joel yanked his big, slippery cock out of your body and made a fist around his member as he always knew to do. Tugged and pulled and grunted above you—‘Sweet girl, you’re so fuckin’ good to me’—and watched your tits and your belly for the milky white ropes to ensue.

Strangely, though, your skin stayed the same.

No cum-spray Convergence appeared before him, no opaque and cloudy fluids dribbling down your ribs, nothing. Your stomach was as bare as the rest of you, save for a few beads of sweat, and that was all there was.

Joel shook his dick harder, confused. Beneath him, you were still coming down from your high smiling ear-to-ear and staring blissfully at the ceiling. Your chest rose and fell, rose and fell in quick succession, and while you endeavored to recollect your mind, Joel was losing his.

Where the FUCK was his cum?

In no naked horizontal tango to date had Joel simply…cum without noticing. Shit like that just didn’t happen to men, least of all to ones his age, so when he’d wrung his poor cock like a sodden towel and still saw nothing come out, he felt his stomach turn and plummet inside him.

He dropped to his hands and knees in less than a moment and lowered his head between your legs.

“No, Joel!” you squealed, giggling. Kicking your feet, “Another round and I’m gonna combust, you old perv!”

But Joel wasn’t looking to get his dick wet again. He was inspecting you. Or trying to, anyway. Quickly realizing he couldn’t see a thing in the darkness, he let out a breath through his nose and lifted you off the bed. Your naked frame thrown over his shoulder, bare hip beside his head and your strangled, muffled cry of, ‘What the hell, Joel?!’ hardly seemed to register with the man carrying you off.

You were toted to the bathroom. Joel was about to ease you down on your feet. Then, appearing to change his mind at the last second, he set you onto the sink instead. Your skin bristled with indignation, anger. A little arousal.

“Last time we did it on a sink we broke the faucet,” you reminded him, feigning more dismay than you really felt inside. If anything, you liked it when your fossil-age fuckbuddy switched things up. You were just exhausted.

Heedless of your words, Joel kneeled on the floor and pried your legs apart before him. When you swatted at his silver-flecked head, he brushed your hand away.

“Hold still,” he grunted.

“How come?”

“‘Cause I said.”

How quickly he commanded that tone of a father.

“Wanna sleep,” you groaned, about to roll your eyes.

But you couldn’t deny you liked being doted on by him.

Joel’s touch was gentle. Probing. Spidering down the most sensitive parts of your bare lower half, between your thighs, and slowly coaxing you closer to the edge of the sink. Your breath hitched when you saw his head tilt.

He appeared to be deep in thought—a rare sight for anyone who’d seen Joel Miller in the postcoital state. Most every time he’d blown his load before, the man was dead asleep within ten minutes. His joints could barely hold himself upright after a half hour of plowing the back forty, much less carry you, too, so you were puzzled now.

He thumbed at the seam of your cunt, and you whined:

“Jo-el—”

“Can ya…push, baby?” His eyes flitted up quickly.

“Push?”

“Yeah, just…” With a look you couldn’t quite read, he placed the palm of his other hand on your belly. Then, pressing, “Like this. Like you’re squeezin’ somethin’ out.”

You cocked a brow in muted confusion but did as he asked. You watched his gaze, and it stayed on you.

Or, rather, on that soft and pliant spot between your legs the old man seemed to favor so much. On any other occasion, in a position like this, he surely would’ve been wearing a smile. Tonight, his lips curled into a grimace.

And twisted even further when you ‘pushed’ like you did.

At first you felt nothing. A gentle clench of your walls supplied little more than a sense of having been stretched—no novel concept to you, who’d spent the last three-and-a-half months or so getting fucked by the finest AARP affiliate alive most every night. It wasn’t until you clamped down again that you got the feeling there was something else. Something thick and warm and slow as molasses trickling out from between your folds.

You let out a low, tender, ‘Mmph’ without meaning to; it felt kind of nice. Beneath you, Joel’s face turned grave.

He watched as his spend oozed out of your freshly-fucked hole and thought of vasectomies again.

You were young—too young to know better. Too sweet and naïve to see any peril in spreading your legs for a man like him, in a world like this. And Joel swore he’d be careful. But no post-apocalyptic birth control method was perfect, or even close to it, and it was clear he’d relied too heavily on reflexes to keep him from cumming inside you. Joel was old—too old to be doing this shit.

Too grown and well-versed in sex to be making mistakes as stupid as that. His brow pinched in, and he drew his next breath as if the air around him was growing scarce.

“Joel, what’s—”

“When’s the last time you— you— uh…bled?”

Hardly more in control of his face than the rate his heart went thudding in his chest, Joel winced at the end. This time, you were the one to knit your eyebrows together. You could tell by that tight, discomfited tone he wasn’t talking papercuts, but were still unsure of his purpose.

“Like two, two and a half weeks ago. Why?”

Well, fuck.

Joel buried his face in his hands. You scooted closer to the sink’s edge, thinking little of his cum leaking out.

“Why?” you tried again. Softer this time.

An old, weathered head lifted to greet you. It was bleak.

“You see this?” Joel paused. Swiping his finger through the viscous white substance that had trickled out on the counter, in a puddle now, “Y’know what it means, right?”

You let his look, and the question, remain suspended in air for a second. Then another. Then you shrugged.

“Yeah. But…you’re old,” came your answer at length.

You’re old.

Joel and you both knew as much, but the former wasn’t quite following your train of thought. Still wanting to try and mitigate damages while he could, though, Joel reached for the roll of toilet paper that was fastened to the wall and tore himself a strip. He bunched it up and, reaching for one of your knees to spread you further for him, took to daubing the tissue across your entrance.

“What’s me bein’ old got to do with anything?” A little sharp, then, seeing you flinch when he drew too close to your clit, “‘m sorry, baby, just— gotta get this out of you.”

You made a face but let him continue anyway. Your eyes followed each movement of his hand, and reflexively, the muscles in your thighs tightened. Why bother with this when the man has so many better uses for his hands?

For a second, your eyes fluttered half-shut.

“Maria says old folks are, uh…infertile. Got something to do with a middle pause,” you said, breaths labored.

Joel stopped just long enough to shoot you a look.

“Menopause,” he corrected, all too matter-of-fact, before returning to his work, “is a woman thing.”

What the hell were they teaching in Jackson’s sex ed classes, anyway? Then Joel remembered how his brother sincerely believed that women peed out of their vaginas until he was twenty-three, and the thought of you not knowing the ins and outs of male virility wasn’t the most far-fetched idea in the universe. Besides, sexual health wasn’t exactly the community’s highest priority when the world around it was in a perpetual state of decay and hordes of fungus-faced fuckers ran rampant in the wild.

He curved a tender, careful finger against the ring of muscles framing your sex, trying to absorb more cum, and your grip on the edge of the countertop tightened.

“S-So, you—” You swallowed, throat constricting a little too, “You’re sayin’…men can make babies…whenever?”

You sounded so innocent as you said it. Joel wanted nothing more than to club himself over the head for being the cause of this predicament—of being such an instrumental part of the perceived corruption, as it was.

Meanwhile, your head was swimming in filthier thoughts.

Deeper, Joel, keep…pushing in…dee-e-per. You would have scarcely had more luck giving a fuck what Joel was talking about now than if he’d just said the room was on fire. By his voice, you knew you should’ve been paying attention, but the dexterity of his fingers was too much. He was caressing the first couple inches of your inner walls, attempting to scrape what bits of his release he could get unstuck from the flesh, but it seemed he was succeeding mostly in just turning you on. Rendering you deaf to the drone of his words as you pictured him pushing something else inside your tight, throbbing—

“—whole lotta problems for us if you’re, uh…ovulating,” Joel finished, expression taut and oblivious. You hadn’t heard the first part of that sentence and didn’t care to.

“Ovulating,” you repeated slowly. Indifferent.

Joel carried on without a hitch.

“Kids just ain’t fit for this world. I know you know that.”

You nodded along, not hearing a word.

“And if you’re— if y’ever did consider, maybe…”

Your lungs took an extra sharp inhale when Joel’s fingers coaxed out a warm, sticky glob of his load, and he petted your folds with his thumb. Then let out a breath himself.

“…y’oughta start a family with someone your own age—”

That part snagged your attention. Too swiftly, it came:

“My own age?”

Sighing, in spite of those welts of pleasure so heightened by his touch that the space between your legs began to throb and ache. Hardly possessed of more sense to form words that weren’t just echoes of his own, you tried communication from a simpler source—your foot.

You nudged his shoulder, and Joel looked up.

“What?”

Parroting was, evidently, a hard habit to kill. Your toes curled into the bare skin of Joel’s shoulder, and when he re-inserted his finger, you ground your heel even deeper.

“When’s that ev…ever stopped us from doing it before, hm?” you said, tone strained but laced with some humor too, “Thought you liked sayin’ you’d make me a mama.”

Joel’s face flooded pink at the recollection—as a matter of fact, there had been several such memories. Instead of answering immediately, he just averted his gaze again. He anchored one hand to your thigh, and with the other teased out another string of your shared arousal before wiping his finger on the tissue, clinically, and repeating. All he had to offer in reply after was: ‘That’s different.’

And it was, to some extent. Joel wasn’t blind to the sea of uneasy looks that trailed behind you both whenever you walked the streets of Jackson together. How wide the eyes would get when instead of observing some filial display of affection play out before them, as expected, you’d loop your arms around his waist and take his lip between your teeth as you kissed—‘Can we please go home now, baby?’—that Joel was certain he’d been cemented as the resident pervert among everyone in town. Just how much worse that reputation was liable to get if there ever happened to be a round and swollen belly between that embrace someday was unthinkable. Dirty talk was one thing; parenthood another entirely.

This is for the best, became the low, grating refrain in his skull. Why he dug so hard, pushed so far inside the wet, velvety interior of your body without a thought for his own desires in that moment; he had to cull every trace of himself out of there, before he had half a chance to think.

“Baby, hey, hey, no—” Joel cut in a second later, abrupt.

No, no, no. You weren’t thinking either. Wrapping your hand around his wrist, pushing his fingers deeper inside.

Smiling a little, too.

“What are you— no, honey, don’t— you can’t,” Joel’s words splintered in every direction, watching you plunge his own index and middle fingers into the slick and the warmth he’d just been trying to get his cum out of. He looked up and saw your lids were heavy, about to close.

“What are you doin’? This ain’t…no, baby, it ain’t…safe.”

Back to sounding like a dad in no time at all.

“What’s wrong with leaving it in a bit longer? Feels nice.”

You had no idea what you were talking about. Joel pulled back on his hand and, in less than a second, had it freed.

“I just told you,” he huffed, “You’re too young—”

“I’m plenty old, Joel,” you returned, eyes snapping open, “You’ve shown me that more times than I can count.”

Joel was silent, stunned. He rose to his feet as your eyes seared holes into his, and for a second, he was uncertain whether to take a step back or reach out for you again.

“Baby…”

To his surprise, something like hurt surfaced behind your eyes. You set your lips in a tighter line, and your grip on the counter grew firmer just the same. He would’ve taken that move as his cue to lean in gently, slot his body between your thighs, and venture an apology of some sort, when the next thing you did stopped him cold.

Without a word, you slipped your free hand between your legs—eyeing Joel closely, almost scornfully, as you did.

You took your middle and ring fingers and sank them into your cunt. Not intending to let a drop of his spend leak out, you wedged them in as far as they’d go. Joel watched. Gawked. Once sufficiently pleased with the look of shock taking over his handsome, aged features, you withdrew the fingers. You brought them up to your mouth, wrapped your lips around the tips, and sucked.

It was a rare thing to get a taste of you and Joel together like this, so you savored it. You moved your mouth further down to drink it all in, peering up with wide, indulgent eyes and a look that was meant to punish.

Feels nice.

Tastes alright, too.

You’d licked the last bit of this glaze off your hand when your stomach clenched. You knew it would happen. Full as you were, you feared your body still hungered for more. As such, it hardly came as a surprise when next your muscles tensed, and you shifted closer to Joel.

“Maybe I don’t want babies with someone my own age.”

Either one of your knees were nudging his hips. Drawing him in. Joel appeared to waver for a second, unsure, but the look on his face made it clear this was mostly a matter of a delayed reaction. He couldn’t get his legs to move because the rest of him was still in awe. Staring at your lips, where the residue of his spend was glistening, then to your eyes, which were no less inviting, then up to the crown of your head and over it, to fix his stare on the mirror behind it. You watched him watch his own reflection with a look that was both hard and unkind, breathing slow. When he didn’t stir from that position after a minute, you touched a hand to his lower stomach.

And, brushing the heel of your palm against what felt like a hundred grey hairs in the old man’s happy trail—your favorite ones—you smoothed a caress along his belly, back and forth, before moving it left. Your hand came to rest on a mound of muscle and fat sitting right above his hip. Love handles, Joel had remarked one morning with vague distaste. Love handles, you’d repeated, beaming. You held on tightly now, appreciatively, and used your well-loved wall of flesh to pull him closer. As with any beckoning of yours, Joel didn’t have so much as half a mind to resist. He did, however, refuse to meet your gaze while you tilted your hips and spread your legs wider, before winding your ankles around the backs of his legs.

“Don’t you think I’d look pretty?” You pouted up at him. Your folds made a light, warm suction rubbing along the front of Joel’s cock—of course he’d grown hard again, and you could hold him, point him down to that wet embrace awaiting him patiently at the edge of the sink.

Joel cursed under his breath.

“‘Course I do…” he said, voice hoarse, “Y’always look—”

“I mean…with your baby inside me, Joel. Right here.”

As if to put a finer point on your words, you nestled the head of his cock inside the first inch of your body. Joel had to seize the laminate underneath you and grit his teeth to keep from letting out a groan too loud. That tip may as well have been a first-rate conductor of heat, and your warmth the thing that might send him spilling again

“You don’t—” Joel choked out, nearly incensed, “—don’t know what the hell you’re sayin’, baby. What that means.”

In truth, there wasn’t a world Joel Miller could imagine where a girl like you could give more than a passing thought to getting knocked up by him—a man his age. What good would it do? You had your whole life laid out before you like a four-course dinner spread; there was no sense whatsoever in letting the meal go to waste on him.

He communicated as much by moving to pull out.

You met the effort with a push of your own, sinking down another inch or two on his shaft and smiling when you saw his eyes roll back in his head at the dizzying friction.

“I know more than enough, old man—” Grin stretching ear-to-ear as you dug your heels in his ass and tugged him deeper, “—who do you think taught me all this?”

Of course, it had been Joel.

Always, always him—the only one, in fact.

Your walls drew him in like a hug. For once, Joel conjured up the strength to take a look between your lower half and his, and when he did, the next moan was inevitable. It trickled through his lips. Your body looked sublime swallowing a third of his cock, and it was almost as though a maggot had crawled into his brain, chanting:

‘Make her full. Make her yours. Tell any man who’d even think of looking her way she belongs to someone else.’

He couldn’t.

Joel would never be so selfish. Just think of her youth.

But when his gaze drifted back to yours, every thought and any word besides seemed gently to melt away. Beneath him, your eyes were two pools of desire.

“You like this…don’t you, Joel?” Your voice was tiny.

“I do.”

In fact, he loved it.

“Then why can’t we?” Why shouldn’t we?

Minuscule now, the words that reached him barely exceeded a whisper. It was as though the moment itself had drained all fear from your face—and out of Joel, all common sense from his brain—leaving you both to stare at the other with shared, stupid, anoetic looks of bliss. The man who had you beat by thirty-odd years seemed nearly of the same mind, with almost identical ignorance.

Idiocy.

“Just once?” Joel croaked.

Somewhere underneath, unseen, you smiled.

“Just one?” you murmured back.

He sank in another inch. When your walls contracted around him, Joel’s hands found your hips by force of habit and pushed your back against the glass behind it. The mirror was cool, and inside you, Joel was throbbing.

“Once,” he repeated, not thinking too deeply.

“One,” you said, with a world of more purpose.

Joel relinquished the last three inches, and with it, all of his resolve. The handsome, scarred, and plainly greying features all twisted as one, and the expression that you knew too well to mean that the man was feeling good took on the slightest hint of guilt. He gripped you tighter.

“One?” Joel panted. Confused.

He pulled out halfway just to find his home again. Your pearly slick mixed together with his spend, and both coated over Joel’s shaft in a pretty, generous sheen.

“One more of you, I mean.” You sounded too sweet. There was no way in hell you’d actually meant it.

Joel’s cheeks flushed again, but he didn’t stop, either.

“Baby…” he trailed off instead. He pushed in, pulled out, felt your tender little hole make an ‘o’ around his shaft, and then he kissed the edge of your left cheek—maybe to rein in the need in his words before he spoke again: “One’a me takes and I’m givin’ ya fifteen more, y’hear?”

The smile he received told him as much as he needed to hear. He probably wouldn’t have believed it even if you’d said the words yourself. Joel’s thrusts sped up, and as the pleasure distended in the pit of his stomach with the friction and the feel, his words flowed a little more freely.

In disbelief, “Wanna be a mama that bad for me, huh?”

Your grin grew bigger. You nodded your head.

“Make your old man a daddy, is that it?”

Exactly. Senseless as it was, your look said it all.

To have slipped between the grooves and ridges of Joel’s brain and caught wind of even a fraction of the things he wanted to do to you then, a smarter girl would have run. Would have shoved him back out as swiftly as she’d let him in and told him no, that’s gross, and gone home. And, had the grey matter floating inside your own skull not been so completely dominated by primal need and wanting, that’s likely what you would have done, too. Instead, with a head full of lewd, youthful stupidity, you seized the black-grey curls dangling at the nape of his neck and drew him closer. You spread your legs wider.

“That is what you’ve wanted this whole time, right?”

Under his scruff, a muscle tensed as Joel bit down.

That’s all he’s ever wanted.

Let the neighbors talk.

Let them say what they wanted to say—it was probably all true to the point they were trying to make, anyway. That Joel was a pervert, of course. That you were naïve, also true. That you would look too good not to stare in a white cotton frock with a bump underneath, absolutely. These were the ideas permeating your brain and his while Joel took a firmer hold of your sides and brought his nose to rest against yours. With every stab of his hips, he pressed kisses to your soft, parted lips, speaking low:

“That what you want, too, darlin’?” More serious now.

The head of his cock nicked a sensitive ridge inside you, eliciting a whimper, but you nodded. You nodded again, feeling the brush of his stubble at your mouth and your chin, and nodded again when he bottomed out, stuffing you tight. It felt a little more momentous than any other time in the past, now that you were picturing a fullness that wasn’t just him. Him and you: a concrete being to soothe the sting of his absence long after Joel withdrew.

Something to stick.

“Please say it, baby.”

Someone to call yours.

“I want it,” you said, sounding desperate.

A coil was just starting to form in the place you felt him. Drifting up, pulling tight, making your eyes go glossy and wide while they stuck to Joel’s and begged him for more.

“Want what?” He sped up, and his thrusts got sloppy.

“Want you,” you breathed, “Inside me, Joel, please.”

As if predicting your next thoughts, the man lowered his hand to your belly. You hadn’t even noticed the smallest bulge had taken shape beneath the skin. Joel slowed, momentarily, then rubbed the base of his palm against the mound where your body was obliged to make room for his cock inside you. He drew soft, tender circles there and, with the motion, sent stars flying before your eyes.

“Good girl,” he murmured, “Right here?”

“Ri— right there. Right there.”

Joel adored that sound. The soft, elated look, the gentle knoll of flesh in a bump below his hand, the whimpers rolling off your tongue repeatedly, quicker and quicker the more the pleasure inside you continued to build. Joel’s release was coming soon, too. For the hundredth time that night, he silently wished he were a little younger; so he could fill you up once, twice, twenty more times until your insides were stuffed and painted white. As if reading his mind, as he had for you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Hope our baby has your eyes,” you murmured to him.

It shouldn’t have had such a strong effect—but of course, it did. Joel pictured the small, sweet infant with irises that shone a bit like his, and his stomach caved in.

Tonight, tomorrow, or ten months down the line, he was getting you pregnant. He’d clear his whole schedule for it

“That right?” And now he couldn’t stop the smile as he spoke, leaning even further in, “What about their nose?”

He kissed the tip of yours.

“Hope they get this.”

He kissed either one of your cheeks.

“These too.”

You had to fight back a laugh while his scruff tickled skin. Two deep strokes away from the brink of release and he still somehow always stayed in tune with your needs.

The threat of your peak was perilously near. Joel’s spend and your slick, tender glaze made a chorus of sounds at each thrust, and the deeper he went, the bigger it swelled. Your smiles couldn’t stay for much longer when the feeling inside you both was being amplified like that. Sensing this, Joel took hold of your face and slipped his touch to cup your chin. He made you tilt your head up to him, as if to ask again, ‘Are you sure?’ and when you nodded, his lips twitched again. A fleeting hint of a grin, like he couldn’t be more eager to finish now if he tried.

Holding your face, cock swollen and throbbing and desperate between your walls, he felt a familiar twitch.

There it is.

#IN CONCLUSION……….WE MAKIN BABIES #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #the last of us fic

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futurewdclandonorris · 8 months ago

Text

you look good on camera, baby, let's go make a film | Lando Norris⁴

“Can you leave your camera alone for five minutes? You play with that thing too much lately.” "Would you rather I play with you instead?"

Pairings: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Warnings: smut

Word count: 9356

Songs that really inspired me: Under The Influence, I Luv This Shit (Remix), Or Nah, Zayn - Sweat

With your feet in Lando's lap, you were laying on his couch watching television, his hand mindlessly massaging your foot. The sun was beginning to set, washing the living room in a golden light, the tv buzzing in the background and your occasional laughter interrupting the silence.

Lando’s touch was soothing, his fingers expertly finding all the right pressure points on your foot, but you didn’t mind that at all. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to spend lazy evenings like this at each other’s place, comfortable in each other's presence without the need for constant conversation.

“Are you seeing this?” you giggled, not tearing your eyes from the screen. Lando didn’t react.

That wasn’t the first time that evening that you said something and he completely ignored you. You shifted slightly, feeling a nudge of irritation prickling at your skin. Lando’s continued silence started grating on your nerves, the one-sided conversation gnawing at the edges of your patience.

“Are you even listening to me?” you nudged him with your foot, turning to face him.

“Hmm?” he hummed, giving your ankle a gentle squeeze and raising his eyebrows in your direction to let you know that he registered you this time.

You scoffed, seeing what was occupying his attention. “Can you leave your camera alone for five minutes? It’s like your third eye, I swear.”

Lando chuckled, but kept scrolling through the pictures. “Sorry. Just reviewing what we took today.”

Rolling your eyes, you propped yourself on your elbows. “You play with that thing too much lately.”

“Would you rather I play with you instead?” he raised his eyes, mischievous gleam in them, and smirked.

His fingers traveled up your calf, a heat rushing through you at his suggestive tone and touch causing a familiar swirl of butterflies in your belly. You cleared your throat and sat up properly, moving his hand away.

“Show me what you captured today,” you said, trying to steer the conversation back to normalcy. You knew that lingering in those moments would only complicate an already delicate dance happening between the two of you.

Lando's smirk widened at your reaction, his eyes shining with amusement, but leaned closer so you could see the screen better. The photographs flashed across the display – picturesque landscapes, candid shots of people in the streets, and close-ups of intricate details that caught Lando’s keen eye. You felt a sense of awe at the way he could turn the mundane into something breathtaking through his lens.

In one particular photo, a vibrant sunset painted the sky in an array of pinks and oranges, casting a warm glow over a quiet beach. The colors were so vivid, it felt like you could almost hear the waves crashing and feel the salty breeze on your skin.

Lost in the beauty of the photographs, you almost didn't notice Lando's hand inching back toward your leg, his touch light and teasing. You shot him a playful look, trying to maintain some semblance of composure despite the flutter of excitement building in your chest.

"Just focus on the pictures, Lando," you said with a laugh, swatting his hand away playfully. But he only grinned, his gaze flicking between the screen and you, a silent challenge in his eyes.

The next photo caught you both by surprise. More you than him. It was an explicit photo of Lando, wearing nothing but a mischievous smile, his eyes daring and playful. You gasped, turning away in shock at the unexpected image. Lando let out a hearty laugh at your reaction, clearly finding amusement in your flustered state.

“Oh, come on, y/n, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” he teased, waggling his eyebrows suggestively as he looked at you expectantly.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and confusion, unsure of how to respond to the intimate photograph that had appeared out of nowhere.

“Well, yeah, but that was… private,” you managed to choke out, looking anywhere except at him or the screen.

Lando's laughter filled the room, a deep rumble that made your heart race even faster. He shifted closer, his hand resting on your knee as he tried to catch your gaze.

"Don't be shy, y/n. I’m sure you have taken a few risqué photos yourself,” he whispered, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Want to see them?” you side eyed him.

“I mean, if you’re offering—”

“I was joking, you muppet!” you turned to smack him across the chest, but Lando caught your hand before it made contact. His fingers intertwined with yours, holding your gaze with an intensity that sent a jolt of electricity through you, the playful banter fading into something more charged and raw between you.

“Maybe I do have some photos,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But they're not for everyone to see.”

“What about a sex tape? Would you ever consider making one of those?” he asked, his voice low and eyes darkening. “I mean, since we're on the subject…” he cleared his throat.

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken implications. Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to process his words, the boundary between friendship and something more blurring with each passing second.

Lando's gaze bore into yours, searching for any hint of your true feelings. His thumb brushed over the back of your hand in a silent caress, his touch igniting a fire in your veins. You could feel the pull of attraction drawing you closer to him, tempting you to cross that line.

But as much as you wanted to explore this newfound tension, you pulled your hand out of his grasp. “I’m not sure, I don’t think I would want that.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, his eyes sparkling with curiosity and a bit of disappointment. “Why not? It wouldn’t be the first time we explored our boundaries.”

You paused, biting your lip as you considered his words. The thought of sharing something so intimate with him was both thrilling and terrifying. “I just don’t think I would look good, you know…”

“Are you kidding? You know you are the most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes on.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the sincerity in his gaze stirring emotions you had long tried to suppress. The air crackled with anticipation, the weight of unspoken desires hanging between you like a heavy fog.

“I’ve taken pictures of you countless times and in each you look like a work of art,” he continued, his voice gentle caress that seeped into every pore.

“Yeah, but that was different… We were having fun… It wasn’t meant to be serious…”

“Why can’t it be serious?” Lando’s voice was soft, his eyes locked on yours with a vulnerability you had never seen before. The air in the room felt charged with emotions as he reached out to cup your cheek gently. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, awakening a longing you had buried deep within your heart.

You searched his eyes for any sign of hesitation or doubt, but all you found was unwavering sincerity and a hint of nervousness. In that moment, you realized that perhaps the unstated tension between you was mutual, a silent dance that had been playing out beneath the surface for longer than you had dared to admit.

“I… I never thought about it that way,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering close at the intimacy.

Lando’s thumb brushed against your cheek, his touch sending sparks through you as he drew closer, his gaze flicking back and forth between your eyes and lips. The room seemed to shrink around the two of you, the world outside fading into insignificance as you were lost in each other's gaze. You felt your resistance fading with each pass, as if their attraction was slowly but surely pulling you under.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “You know, y/n, I’ve always imagined watching you in a moment like this,” he whispered, his voice low and husky, “capturing your beauty on film in a way that only I can see.”

You shivered as his breath ghosted over your skin, the intensity of the moment leaving you reeling. “What do you mean?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Lando’s eyes locked with yours, his tone growing more earnest. “Taking pictures of you, ones that only I get to see, ones that no one else gets to touch or look at without your permission.”

You gulped, your heart pounding with equal parts fear and excitement. This was a line you had never dared to cross before, and yet, Lando's words had a way of making anything seem possible.

Lando smiled softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Pictures that capture the essence of you, the real you," he said quietly. "The sides of you that you show only to me."

You bit your lip, feeling a flutter in your chest. This was an intimate proposition, one that made you feel both vulnerable and empowered. "And what would be the point of that?" you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

Lando's gaze held yours, his expression serious yet filled with desire. "The point would be to immortalize you, to capture the essence of who you are in a way that words can never fully express. I want to show you how beautiful you are through my eyes, how every smile, every glance, every moment we share is a masterpiece waiting to be unveiled. And I want a collection of memories that belong only to me, ones that I can look back on and remember the moments that you shared with me."

Your heart raced as you considered his proposal. The idea of Lando capturing your nature in a way that only he could see was both enticing and terrifying. But the thought of being the sole muse for his art, the one person he would hold close in his heart, was a powerful draw.

"I'm not sure I can do that," you replied hesitantly, "but I can try."

Lando's eyes lit up with exhilaration, his smile growing wider. "We'll start with the simplest things, the little quirks that make you unique. Then we'll move on to more intimate moments. I promise to never push you too far or make you uncomfortable. We'll do this together."

You nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. This was a new adventure and you were unsure of what lay ahead. But you were ready to take that leap with Lando by your side.

"Alright, deal," you said with a shy smile. "But promise me that you won't share these photos with anyone. They're for your eyes only."

Lando's eyes softened, his expression turning sincere. "I promise, y/n. We'll do this together, at your pace, and I'll make sure to always respect your boundaries."

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest. This was a bold move, but you trusted Lando. You knew that he would never do anything to hurt you.

"Alright," you said, feeling a sense of determination. "Let's do this."

Lando leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. It was soft and sweet, his lips like clouds. The world around you faded away as you melted into him, leaving only the two of you wrapped up in each other’s arms, lost in a moment that felt like it would never end.

Lando pulled back and his eyes locked with yours. His fingers curled around the hem of your shirt and with a silent permission he pulled it over your head, revealing the vulnerable beauty beneath. Your skin tingled as his gaze traced every inch of you, his camera forgotten as he captured each moment with his eyes. The room seemed to hum with a quiet intensity as he leaned in to press kisses along your collarbone, his touch igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume everything in its path.

You felt the weight of his wishes pressing against you, a silent plea for more as he whispered words of adoration against your skin. Your doubts and fears melted away in the heat of the moment, leaving only raw passion and longing behind.

As Lando's hands roamed over your body, every touch electric and searing, you realized that this was where you were meant to be. In his arms, exposed and vulnerable yet safe and cherished in a way you had never known before.

The room was filled with the sound of the camera shutter, immortalizing the intimate moments between you, and you surrendered yourself completely to the unknown, knowing Lando is there to guide you. You felt naked under his gaze, as if his lens had stripped away every layer of your clothing and left you uncovered to his unbridled desire.

Your breath caught in your throat as Lando's hand grazed your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. The light from the camera flickered across your face, casting shadows and highlighting the contours of your features. It was surreal, to feel like you were being transformed into a work of art, a masterpiece crafted with love and longing.

He kissed your chest and you reached for his shirt, unfurling the fabric to reveal the body that had been hiding beneath. Lando's muscles rippled as he stretched, hinting at a strength that belied his gentle demeanor. The sight stole your breath, your heart beating faster with each passing moment.

The air grew thick with anticipation, the scent of his skin mingling with the heady emotions that filled the room. You felt yourself being pulled into a world where art and desire intertwined, and knew that the line between reality and fantasy had blurred.

With a deep breath, you met Lando's eyes, trusting him as you had never trusted anyone before. He smiled softly, his gaze filled with warmth and understanding. He held a side of your face, kissing your lips gently, his touch feather-light and tender. You felt a wave of affection wash over you, and you knew that this moment was more than just a passing fancy. This was for real, and you were ready to embrace it.

"I'm ready," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, your eyes locked with his as you gave him permission to continue.

Lando's lips found their way to your neck, his tongue tracing the delicate curve of your collarbone, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin just beneath your ear. You felt a shiver of desire course through your body, and you knew that this was what you had been waiting for.

"You're mine, you know that?" he murmured, his voice low and throaty, his breath hot against your skin. "You're my muse, my inspiration…”

He guided you to lay on the couch as he spoke, your bare skin glistening in the soft light that filtered through the curtains. Lando's eyes never left your face as he positioned you, adjusting the pillows behind your back to make you comfortable.

He moved to the other side of the room, the camera in his hands. You could see the longing in his eyes, the want to capture every inch of you in his lens. He looked at you again, his gaze lingering on your lips, your eyes, the curve of your neck.

Taking a deep breath, he began to capture you. The first shot was of your face, your eyes wide with anticipation, your lips parted in a gentle smile. The second was of your neck, the delicate arc of your throat revealed, your skin glowing in the orange light. The third was of your chest, your breasts rising and falling with each breath, your skin flushed with craving.

“Perfect,” he whispered and lowered the camera.

He was on top of you now, straddling you, but careful not to put all his weight on you. He used his body to block out the rest of the world, leaving only the two of you in this intimate moment. He leaned down, kissing your lips softly, his tongue brushing against your bottom lip, coaxing it open. You opened your mouth, allowing his tongue to enter, exploring the depths of yours, tasting you. His hands were on your waist, his fingers tracing the curves of your hips, your waist, your sides, discovering your body, learning its contours.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in between kisses, his voice breathless.

His eyes lingered on you in a way that made you feel exposed, yet safe. He dipped his head and bit the spot where your neck and shoulder connected. You gasped, a mixture of pain and pleasure coursing through your body. Lando's lips were warm against your skin, his breath sending tremors through your body.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted this," he murmured against your shoulder, taking off the strap of your bra. "You have no idea how much..."

He trailed off, his words stolen by the kiss he pressed against your lips. His hand slid up your side, his fingertips brushing the edge of your bra. You could feel your nipples hardening under the fabric, aching for his touch.

"Lando..." you called, your voice barely audible.

Lando's hand moved to your throat, his fingers gently caressing your skin as he looked up at you. "I want to see you," he said softly, "let me see you."

You nodded, unable to speak as you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He continued to bite and kiss the sensitive skin of your neck as he reached behind your back to unclasp your bra. You could feel the need building in him, the need to possess you, to claim you as his own.

Lando's fingers finally released the clasp, and your bra slipped off, leaving you exposed to his gaze. His eyes widened at the sight of your breasts, the hardened nipples standing at attention, begging for his. You could see the want in his eyes, the hunger to devour every inch of you.

He reached for his camera on the table and straightened on his knees above you. He adjusted the focus, making sure to catch every detail of your skin's smoothness, your aroused nipples, and the flush of aspiration on your cheeks.

With the camera in one hand and his free hand on your chest, he leaned in to take a close-up of your nipples, his lips brushing against your skin as he did so. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine.

As the camera shutter clicked, he moved his hand down your body, trailing his fingers over your stomach, your hips, and down to your thighs. He spread your legs slightly, giving himself a better view of you, a better angle for his camera. He took another photograph, capturing your legs spread, your hips slightly arched, inviting him in.

Then he handed the camera to you. You took it hesitantly, unsure what to do with it. Lando smiled reassuringly at you and placed his hand over yours, guiding your fingers to the shutter button.

“Would you film while I suck on your tits?”

His words made you shiver, making you both nervous and excited. You nodded, taking a deep breath and pressing the button, starting to film the moment you had been waiting for.

His hands traced the valley of your breasts, his fingers lightly brushing over your nipples, sending shivers of pleasure racing across your skin. You arched into his touch, your hips rising to meet his, your body crying out for more.

He leaned down, his breath hot against your skin, and caught one nipple in his mouth. You moaned softly, your hips bucking forward as he sucked and licked, your body arching towards him. His other hand slid down your body, his fingers tracing your hip, your thigh, your knee.

He alternated between sucking and biting, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bud. You felt your body respond, your nipples hardening even more under his attention. You moaned, your hand reaching down to grip his hair, pulling him closer.

As he moved to your other nipple, his teeth grazed your skin, leaving a faint mark. You gasped, the sensation sending waves of pleasure-pain coursing through you, your core clenching in response.

His hands moved to your waist, his fingers gently digging into your skin, gripping you tightly. You could feel his passion, his need for you, the way he wanted to devour you in every way possible.

"Do you like that?" he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

You moaned softly, your hips bucking forward, your body begging for more. "Yes," you breathed out.

Lando smiled, his eyes gleaming with hunger. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he groaned, his tongue darting out to lick some more.

You moaned quietly, your body quivering with each touch, each lick, each suck, each bite. He moved lower, his hands sliding down your body, his lips tracing the line of your stomach, your hips, your thighs. You could feel his breath against your skin, the anticipation building with each move.

He sat back on his knees, hands hooking on the waistband of your shorts and sliding them down your legs. He raised your left leg up and rested it on his shoulder, kissing the inside of your ankle and making his way up. Your skin was soft and warm under his touch, his lips trailing up your ankle, your calf, your knee.

You were nervous but also aroused by his touch, feeling your yearning building with each kiss and caress, each soft word whispered in your ear. You could feel his arousal, the hardness of his erection pressing against your thigh, and it sent a jolt of excitement through your body.

He gently kissed your inner thigh, his tongue dipping into the soft flesh, causing you to gasp. He pulled back once more, doing the same to your other leg. His attention was now solely on you, and the expectation was almost unbearable. You could hardly breathe as he continued to kiss and caress your legs, building the tension between you. Finally, he reached the apex of your desire, the junction where your legs met, and he dipped his head to his prize.

"Open up for me," he said softly, his eyes locked on your now damp panties.

You hesitated for a moment, feeling exposed and vulnerable, but then you nodded, spreading your legs wider for him. You could feel his breath on your skin, the warmth of his body against yours, and the prediction of what was to come.

His hands gently cupped your hips, guiding his head closer to your arousal. "I want to taste you," he said, almost reverently.

You closed your eyes and shivered, feeling his hot breath against your sensitive skin. He teased you, blowing softly, causing your hips to thrust upward, seeking his touch. He laughed softly and backed away once more.

“Not here. Come,” he said, standing up and extending a hand to help you up.

You took his hand, feeling weak in the chest from the intensity of the moment. You both walked towards the table, the camera still in your hands, documenting every step.

“Lean on the edge,” he instructed, constructing the scene and sank to his knees.

You did as he asked, your hand gripping the edge as he positioned himself between your legs. You could feel his hot breath on your thighs, making you breathe heavily.

"Move your panties to the side," he directed, his voice low and seductive. You obeyed, sliding the damp fabric aside, exposing yourself to him.

Then his tongue darted out, teasing you, licking the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. You moaned softly, your hips bucking forward, seeking more of his touch. He laughed softly, his hands gripping your thighs as he continued to tease you, his tongue tracing patterns on your skin. You felt your need building, the anticipation making you wetter, your juices trickling down the inside of your thighs.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice deep.

You nodded, unable to speak. Your entire body was screaming for his touch, for his lips, for his tongue. He leaned in, his tongue dipping into your folds, swirling around your delicate skin and licking up and down with the skill of an expert. You moaned, your body arching into his face, your hips bucking against his mouth.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned against your skin, his tongue plunging inside you.

You were lost in the moment, your body trembling with need as he tested your boundaries, exploring every inch of you. With your free hand, you reached down to grip his shoulder, pulling him closer, needing him more than ever before. His hands gripped your hips tightly, steadying you.

"You taste so good. So sweet, so wet," you could feel the heat of his breath against your pussy, the soft rustle of his hair against your thighs.

His tongue continued its tour, flicking against your sensitive flesh, his fingers gently caressing your hips. You could feel the tension building within you, the desire for him to take you over the edge.

But Lando was not in a hurry. He wanted to savor every moment, every touch, every taste. He moved his fingers to your clit, gently stroking it with the tip of his finger, causing you to arch into his touch.

“You like that?” he whispered, his voice hot.

“Y-yes,” you moaned back.

“I’m going to make you cum,”

You gasped, one hand gripping his hair, pulling him closer, wanting more, and the other holding the camera, recording every moment.

He moaned, the taste of you driving him wild. He licked and sucked gently, exploring every inch of your folds, his tongue probing deeper, his fingers gently parting you, giving himself better access to your most sensitive spots.

You moaned loudly, your hips bucking forward, your body responding to his touch, your mind lost in the pleasure of his seductive advances. You could feel your arousal building, the tension between your legs growing stronger with each touch, each lick, each suck.

He slid a finger inside you, his thumb rubbing your clit in a slow, steady rhythm. You cried out, your body arching towards him, your hips bucking as he stroked you deeper, his fingers inspecting your inner depths. Your mind was consumed with the sensations, the pleasure building to a crescendo within you.

"Yes, yes, yes," you whimpered, your fingers digging into his hair, urging him on.

He smiled around your wet folds, raising his eyes and locking them with yours and not with the camera lens. He added another finger, stretching you just enough to send you over the edge.

You cried out, your body tensing and shaking as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you, your hips bucking wildly, your legs shaking uncontrollably. You felt like you were flying and floating and everything was blurry and burning and perfect.

He continued to lick and suck, milking every last drop of pleasure from you, his fingers moving in sync with his mouth, driving you higher and higher with each stroke.

Your orgasm subsided, leaving you panting and breathless, your body trembling with aftershocks and your hands shaking. He continued to hold you, his hand gently caressing your hip. You could feel the moisture seeping from between your legs, staining his fingers.

He pulled back, his face dripping with your juices, and looked up at you with craving in his eyes. You could see the wild animal in him, the hunger for you, the need to have you. You could hardly believe what had just happened. You had never felt such desire, such want, such pleasure before. You felt alive, you felt wild, and you felt so, so loved.

He stood up and guided your hand to the bulge in his pants, his eyes never leaving yours. He thrust forward, his pulse beating wildly against your palm. You could feel the heat of his erection through the material of his sweatpants, and the pulse between your legs again.

"Are you ready for the next part?" he asked, cupping your face and kissing you deeply.

You nodded, gasping for air as his kisses became more fervent. He helped you to stand, your legs still shaking from the aftermath of your orgasm, but you couldn't deny the excitement coursing through your veins.

“Get on your knees,” he instructed, taking the camera from you.

“No,” you said, making him raise an eyebrow.

Instead, you took him by the shoulders and swapped places with him so that he was now leaning on the edge of the table. Neither of you could take your eyes off each other as you inched closer, his erection straining against the fabric of his sweatpants.

“I want to give you a good time too,” you murmured, kissing the side of his neck, your hand trailing down his chest until you took a palmful of his cock.

His breath hitched, teeth sinking into his bottom lip and head thrown back, eyes closed. You peppered the line of his neck with kisses, dragging your tongue down the curve of his shoulders, before reaching his collarbones. Your fingers teased him, lightly stroking his length and feeling it twitch under your touch.

“Please, baby,” he growled, clutching at the edge of the table and arching his hips towards your hand. “Need you to touch me.”

You couldn’t resist his plea, your hand gripping his erection more firmly, stroking him slowly and watching as his eyes fluttered open, dark and needy. Your other hand traced the outline of his hip, skimming over the waistband of his sweats and glorying in the feel of his hardness beneath your fingers.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he breathed, eyes locked on your fingers as they moved.

You leaned closer, brushing your lips against his ear. “Do you want me to take it off?”

"Uh huh," he nodded, his breaths coming in sharp, ragged gasps.

"Words, Lando. I need you to use words," you were demanding, but gentle.

He gulped before responding, sounding breathless. “Yes, please."

You smirked against his chest and began pathing your way down with kisses. You settled on your knees, your fingers dug into the waistband of his sweats.

"Turn the camera on, you will not want to miss a moment of this,” you told him.

You pulled them down slowly, almost irritatingly so just to tease him some more. The whole time you were keeping eye contact, licking your lips and watching him squirm and take deep breaths.

Next were his boxers. You latched your teeth on the edge of the waistband and slowly, ever so slowly, pulled them down. His cock sprang out, hard and throbbing, the head glistening with pre-cum.

“Fuck, that was so hot,” he muttered, holding the camera with both hands to steady it as he watched you.

You licked your lips again, staring at his erection and the dark, pulsing head. You reached out and wrapped your fingers around it, pumping it slowly, watching as his hips bucked involuntarily.

“Was that good?” you asked, your voice low and sultry.

He groaned, his eyes never leaving your hand. “God, yes.”

"You're so hard for me," you whispered, kissing the head gently as you watched him squirm. And you knew exactly what to do to make him even harder.

You took him in your hand, your palm wrapping around his length, your fingers stroking him from base to tip. You watched as a drop of pre-cum glistened at the tip, and you used your thumb to smear it around, slicking him up. Lando moaned loudly, his head dropping back as you continued to stroke him, your hand matching the rhythm of his breaths. You reached into your mouth and began to lick and flick your tongue over the sensitive underside of his cock, his length twitching in response.

"Mmm, so sweet," you moaned around his shaft, the taste making your saliva flow. You took him deeper into your mouth, sucking him down until the tip hit the back of your throat. He groaned, his hand grabbing your hair and pulling you closer, driving his cock deeper into your mouth.

You pulled back, your teeth scraping over his sensitive head, earning you another growl from him. You teased him with your tongue, swirling it around the delicate tip while pumping his shaft with your hand. His hips bucked, and hand tightened in your hair.

You moaned around him, feeling the power that this simple act of pleasure held over him. He groaned, thrusting his hips forward as you put him back into your mouth, taking him deep until your nose was pressed against his pubic hair, his hand gripping the back of your head, wanting you even deeper. You pulled back, sucking him off with a pop, the sound echoing in the room. His cock twitched, getting harder, more sensitive with every stroke.

“God, you look so pretty sucking my cock,” he growled, his eyes locked on your face as you continued to stroke him and hollow out his thoughts.

You didn't miss a beat, your hand moving in sync with your mouth as you suckled his length, feeling his cock pulse in your hand. You could feel his desire building, feel him reaching for that point of no return. And you wanted to be there when he crossed that line.

“Look at me, baby, look at the camera with your pretty eyes while my cock’s in your mouth,” he commanded, his voice raw and needy.

You lifted your eyes to meet the camera lens, your gaze unwavering as you continued to suck on his cock, your other hand still pumping him rhythmically. You could feel his thighs trembling, his hips bucking, and his grip on your hair stronger.

“That’s it, take my whole cock,” he growled, his voice a mixture of pleasure and dominance. “Look at you, sucking me off like a pro. Such a good girl.”

You took him in deeper, praise giving you a new surge of confidence, your throat stretching to accommodate his girth, and your eyes watering from the sensation. You could feel the veins throbbing under your lips, and the taste of his precum glistening on your tongue.

“Don’t be shy, lick my balls too,” he said, taking his cock out of your mouth.

You eagerly complied, lowering your head towards his balls, kissing, licking and nibbling gently. He moaned loudly, his hands gripping your hair tighter as you took his balls into your mouth, sucking and releasing, creating a soft slurping sound as you did so.

"Oh fuck, yes," he groaned, his hips rocking back and forth in time with your mouth. "Suck on them harder, baby."

You obliged, taking his balls in your mouth and sucking on them deeply while his cock throbbed above you. You could feel him getting closer, his body stiffening and his breathing quickening.

“Mmm... fuck, you’re so good at this,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “I’m gonna cum soon. Are you ready for it?”

You knew what he needed, so you went back to work, taking his cock into your mouth once more. You sucked and licked, and your hand stroked him vigorously. Your saliva mixed with his precum, making your mouth slick and warm.

“Oh fuck, right there, that’s it, baby,” he panted, his body shuddering. “You’re going to make me cum so hard.”

You increased your pace, your mouth swallowing him down.

“Are you going to cum on my tits?” You asked, raising your eyes from the camera lens to look into his.

He smirked, "No, I want to see you take it down your throat."

You swallowed hard, nodding as you removed your mouth from his cock and backed away slightly. His cock, glistening with a mix of saliva and pre-cum, stood at attention, twitching softly.

You took it in your hand and rubbed the sensitive head between your fingers, watching your spit glisten on the tip. He moaned softly, his hips bucking as you slowly brought it to your lips. You ran your tongue over the tip, savoring the taste of his pre-cum, before taking him into your mouth. You slowly slid down his length, taking him deeper with each swallow.

He let out a low groan, his hand fisting in your hair as you took him further and further. When your nose was pressed against his pubic hair, he let out a strangled cry and thrust his hips forward, his cock hitting the back of your throat. His cum erupted from him, a torrent of hot, salty jets that coated your tongue and filled your throat. You choked back a reflexive gag, your eyes watering with the sensation, but held on, swallowing the thick, ropy liquid until he was spent.

You pulled away, your lips plump and glistening with his cum, and hooked a finger under your chin to wipe away the excess. For a moment, you just looked at him, your eyes locked with his, your chests heaving as you both caught your breaths.

He reached down and wiped away the remaining cum from your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. There was a moment of stillness, a sense of completion and satisfaction in the air.

"Fuck, that was amazing," he panted, his hand still in your hair.

You smiled, your eyes glinting with mischief. "Not done yet," you whispered, reaching up to kiss his lips, the taste of cum still on your tongue.

The two of you shared a long, lingering kiss, sucking on each other’s tongues as passion still simmered between you. His hand moved down to your chest, brushing over your breast, his fingers playing with your nipple.

You broke the kiss, your eyes still locked with his. "Come with me," you purred, a smirk playing on your lips.

You led him to the bed, your movements confident and sultry. He followed you, his eyes never leaving your body, his hunger for you palpable.

“I want to sit on your face, and I want to film it.” you announced, your voice low and seductive. Not even you knew from where this newfound confidence came from, but you let it wash over you, feeling empowered and desirable. And you wanted to explore this side of you further.

He looked at you with a mixture of surprise and excitement, clearly not expecting this sudden turn of events.

"Are you sure?" he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

"Absolutely," you replied, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "I want to see your face when you're pleasuring me.”

“Wow, look at you. I thought you were camera shy, but here you are directing me around,” he teased, a playful smile spreading across his face.

"Get on the bed, on your back," you instructed, taking off your panties, your voice now firm and commanding. He did as you instructed, spreading out on the bed with a cheeky grin on his face.

You climbed onto the bed, straddling him and positioning yourself above his face. Your hips swayed as you watched him watch you, his eyes never leaving your face. You held the camera in front of you, making sure it was centered on his face and capturing every detail of his expression. You could feel his breath against your most intimate parts, a gentle reminder of what was to come.

“Ready, set…”

Instantly his mouth met your cunt, his tongue darting out to tease your clit before delving inside, tasting your sweetness. You moaned softly, your hips bucking in time with his mouth. He sucked and licked, his hands stroking your thighs, his eyes never leaving the lens. It was like a dance, your movements in sync with his, each touch and stroke building the momentum.

The camera captured it all - your gasping, your moaning, and the way your body arched as his tongue dug deeper. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked on your clit and your legs shook, your whole body trembling as pleasure coursed through you. You could feel him growing more confident with every passing second, his tongue moving in a rhythm that drove you wild.

“Harder,” you demanded, your voice strained with lust. “Fuck me with that tongue.”

He complied, his tongue thrusting in and out of you, his lips sucking and pulling right where you needed the most. Each touch sent shivers through your body, the tension building and the release just around the corner.

“I’m so close, baby,” you whispered, your eyes locking with his.

“Don’t stop,” you whimpered, the sensation overwhelming. He didn’t, his tongue flicking and probing, his hand going up your waist, now reaching to cup your breasts, his fingers twirling and pinching your nipples.

You gripped at his hair, giving yourself some more balance as you started grinding on his face. He moaned against your pussy, sending vibrations throughout your body.

“Mm, that’s right, baby. Ride my face.” he muffled, one hand falling to your hip and the other slapping your ass, encouraging you further.

You looked at him, breath catching in your throat at the sight. His green eyes filled with such lust and wildness that you wanted to take a picture and carry it in your wallet if it were any appropriate. And that was just enough to send you overboard.

He held your hips firmly as you spasmed over his face, his mouth continuing to devour you. Your moans turned to screams, and he licked and sucked at your sensitive spots, not letting any drop of pleasure from you go to waste. His hands roamed your body until you finally collapsed on top of him, breathless and drained.

You lay there for a moment, camera dropped on the mattress, your cheeks flushed and heart pounding. You looked down at him, his face glistening with your juices and smiled. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with satisfaction and gave you a smirk. Slowly, you climbed off him and he sat up, and you kissed him, savoring the taste of yourself on his lips, his rough beard stubble scraping against your skin.

“I’m ready. I want you now,” you murmured against his mouth.

He smiled, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “Get on your hands and knees then,”

You complied way too eagerly, positioning yourself just as he wanted, ass up in the air and back arched. He crawled behind you, his cock hard and ready again. He slapped your ass, the sting of his hand sending a new wave of drive coursing through you.

“Are you dripping for me?” he leaned to whisper in your ear, his breath making you shudder. You moaned in response, the desire too intense.

“Oh yes, you are,” he said for you, running his fingers through your folds.

He slid his cock into you from behind, filling you up in a single, powerful thrust. Your moan turned to a growl as he began to move, his hand gripping your hips tightly. You could feel his cock hitting your sweet spot with each thrust, and the pleasure was almost too much to bear.

“Harder!” you urged, your body begging for me.

Obliging, his thrust became rougher, your skin slapping against his. He filmed as he pounded you, the camera capturing every movement, every expression on your face as you turned to look at him over your shoulder, every bead of sweat that dripped down your skin. His thrusts grew harder and faster, animalistic in their intensity. Your breath was coming in short, sharp gasps as he hit you deeper, your body quivering.

“Lando, I’m going to cum,” you panted.

He grunted and took a handful of your hair, and yanked you towards him, making you yelp. Throwing the camera away, he wrapped his now free hand around your throat as he continued to drill into you. You could hear his heavy breaths, feel his heart racing against your back. Your mind was on fire, adrenaline coursing through your veins. With another deep and forceful thrust, he suddenly pushed you off his cock. Then, he laid on the bed.

“Get on top of me,” he ordered.

You wasted no time climbing on top of him, your body trembling with satisfaction, but aching for more. You straddled his hips, both of you watching as you lowered yourself on his thick cock. He groaned as you impaled yourself on him, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer to him. The sensation of being filled again was both intense and pleasurable and you couldn’t help but moan as your body began to move in sync with his.

Your hips undulated, your tits bouncing and jiggling with every thrust. You could feel his eyes on you, the camera back in his hands and the hunger and desire never waning. He let you take control, and you began to move faster, your excitement building with each second. Your body was aching for release, but you held on, savoring the moment. You could hear his breath hitching, his body straining to keep up with you.

Your movements became more erratic, your pace quickening as you neared the edge. The thrusts became deep and hard, your ass slapping against his thighs with each impact. You held onto his shoulders for support, the sensation of his hand gripping your flesh only fueling you more. But in all that ecstasy, you lost your balance and collapsed onto his chest, your hips never ceasing to grind on him.

He wrapped his arm around you, holding you close as you shuddered and trembled in his embrace. “Easy, babe,” he whispered, a smirk evident in his voice.

You moaned into his neck and straightened up again. You began slowly rocking your hips back and forth, sitting fully on his cock.

“That’s right, baby, ride me for a bit,” he whispered, running his hand down your spine.

You smirked and leaned down, placing a kiss on his lips before grinding your hips against him in a slow and sensual rhythm. Your breasts jiggled with each movement, and he followed every sway through the lens.

“Look at you. Aren’t you a goddess, huh?” he said, his green eyes never leaving your body as his fingers continued to roam your skin. Your movements became hypnotic, each gentle rock increased the pressure on his cock, making him groan with pleasure.

“A goddess sitting on her throne.” he propped himself up, trailing kisses down your neck, his fingers digging into your hip. You could feel his cock pulsating against your sensitive spots, reminding you of how much more he wanted.

“Time to show me what you got,” he whispered and laid back on the pillows.

You leaned back on your hands, angling yourself perfectly over him, both of you gazing into each other’s eyes. You gave him a full display of your cunt and slowly started going up and down on his cock, his hand pulling you closer each time you descended onto him. You increased your movements, your tits bouncing wildly with each bump. He matched your energy, propping his hips up to meet yours.

You moaned and grunted, your body trembling with each thrust. His eyes were intently focused on your body, capturing every detail for the camera. He reached up and pinched your sensitive nipples, making you cry out in pleasure.

Lowering his hand, he started rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb. Your body buckled under his touch, your moans growing louder and your movements becoming erratic. He could feel your walls pulsating around him and he knew that this wasn’t going to last much longer. Throwing the camera away, he wrapped both of his arms around you, pulling you onto his chest. You fell without resistance and he took control, fucking into you from below.

“I can feel you getting close,” he said, his voice ragged.

“Uh huh,” you gasped, your voice caught in your throat.

“Not yet, baby,” and in one swift motion, he flipped you over onto your back. Your legs fell apart and he thrust into you with a deep groan. He leaned down, kissing you hard, his tongue darting into your mouth, tasting you, consuming you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing him deeper, not letting him stop, feeling his cock sliding in and out of you with a slick, wet sound.

His hands wandered over your body, his mouth attached to your breast and fingers teasing your clit. You cried out with every move, your body trembling, your desire reaching its peak. He could feel your juices flowing, slicking his cock, coating your bodies. He thrust into you harder, faster, his eyes locked on yours.

He was dominating you, he was possessing you and you loved every second of it. You loved the way he made you feel, the power he exuded and above all, you loved the pleasure and satisfaction he was giving you.

“Are you going to cum?” he asked, eyes blazing.

“I’m so close, Lan,” you moaned and whined, your whole body tightening as you neared your end.

“Hold it,” he groaned, his hips still pistoning into you with a fierce determination.

“I don’t know how much longer I can—”

“I’m going to give you a countdown,” he growled, his breath becoming ragged and hot against your neck.

“Ten,” he whispered, thrusting deeper into your pulsating pussy. Your breath hitched as you waited with bated breath.

“Nine,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hip and pulling you closer.

“Eight,” he growled, his chest heaving with the effort of holding back his own release. You felt the tension building within you, the lust and desire coursing through your veins, making you moan and buck your hips.

“Seven,” he hissed, his mouth closing over yours in a searing kiss as his hips pressed against you. You groaned into his mouth, your hips bucking temporarily out of control as the sensation of his tongue dueling with yours sent shivers down your spine.

“Six,” he moaned, finding your hips again and slamming into you, his rough moans echoing in your ears as he fought to hold back his own climax. You could feel the tension in his body, the desperation that threatened to consume him.

“Five,” he panted, his eyes locked on yours, his hands gripping your ass and pulling you even closer.

“Four,” he breathed, his hips bucking wildly, his cock slamming into you with a fierce intensity.

“Three,” he growled, his passion and desire coursing through his veins, his body shaking with the need to release.

“Two,” he hissed, the muscles in his arms and legs tensing as he held himself back from cumming.

“Almost there,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath.

“Not yet,” he groaned, his hips never faltering in their rhythm. “One more.”

“One more,” you agreed, your body trembling, your pussy pulsating around his cock.

“One. Now, baby. Cum around me,” and then, just as you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he began to thrust harder, faster, his eyes locked with yours as he pushed you right to the edge.

You threw your head back, your eyes rolling up in sheer bliss of the orgasm taking over. Your muscles tightened around him, milking for every ounce of pleasure he could give. He grew more aggressive, thrusting into you with abandon, your orgasm triggering his own.

“I’m going to cum,” he grunted, his body shuddering with the force of his release.

You reached for the camera, ready to capture the moment forever, but he got a hold of your wrist and pinned it down.

“Leave it,” he gasped, his eyes glazed over.

“I thought you wanted to record this?” you panted, struggling to keep up with his intense pace.

He shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. His hand slid into yours and interlocked your fingers together. “I want to remember this through my eyes. I want it to stay only in my mind, forever.”

And with that, he pulled out and spilled all over your stomach. You laid there, panting and spent, his cum drying on your skin and you found yourself in awe of the experience that just happened between the two of you. A rush of adrenaline and pleasure coursed through your veins, making you feel alive and invigorated.

Lando laid beside you, his eyes still glazed over from his intense orgasm. He reached down and wiped the cum off of your stomach, then slowly started stroking your thigh. “Was everything okay?”

You gazed into his eyes and traced your fingers along his jawline. “It was incredible, Lando. I’ve never felt so alive.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” His voice was a gentle purr, and he leaned in to nibble on your earlobe. “Maybe next time we’ll try something different. You know, switch it up and keep things interesting.”

“Next time?” you playfully raised your eyebrow. “Who said there’s going to be a next time?”

Lando chuckled, his hand drifting down to your firm ass, squeezing it lightly. "Oh, there will definitely be a next time. You can't resist me, sweetheart."

You smiled coyly, playing along. “In your dreams, Norris.”

He chuckled at your playful banter, his hand still firmly on your ass. “We’ll see about that, babe.” He leaned in closer, his lips brush against your neck, making you shiver. “But for now, I think it’s time for a little aftercare.”

He rolled off of you, his arms still wrapped around your waist. You sat up, your body still pulsating from the intense sex, and looked at him. He was still panting, his eyes locked onto your body, his arousal still prominent. He pulled you into his embrace, his hands gently caressing your back, his breath warm on your neck.

“I can’t believe we did that,” you whispered, still in awe of the intensity of the experience.

“Do you want to review the footage?” Lando asked, breaking the sweet moment.

“Yeah, we could do that,”

He nodded, breaking the embrace and reaching for the camera. He scrolled through the footage, stopping at the part where you were on top of him.

“Look at that,” he said, a proud smile on his face. “You were incredible.”

He kept scrolling, stopping at the part where he took you from behind. He played it back, and you couldn’t help but watch in amazement.

“Who knew you were so kinky?” you teased, laughing at the sight of your own flexibility.

He grinned, still looking at the footage. “I think I knew all along. But it's nice to see you let loose.”

You glanced at the screen, your cheeks flushing a little at the sight of your body, your moans, and the way you surrendered to him. You felt a wave of pride and satisfaction wash over you, knowing that you had given him a performance that you both could remember forever.

“I had a lot of fun,” you admitted, still laughing.

He handed you the camera, and you scrolled through the footage. You stopped at the part where he was on top of you, his eyes locked onto yours, and you felt the rush of adrenaline all over again.

“I never knew I could feel this way,” you whispered, a tear escaping from the corner of your eye. “With you.”

He leaned over, wiping away your tear with his thumb, his eyes filled with tenderness and love.

“You can feel any way you want to,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. “As long as it’s with me.”

He pulled you into a deep, passionate kiss, his hands roaming over your body once again, reminding you of the intense pleasure and connection you had just shared. And he was right - you could feel anything you wanted to, as long as it was with him.

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