#and it's only when you stop to pay attention

[beloveds-embrace]

(Poly 141 x medic reader, where you might as well be the sun to them)

The phrase started as a whisper.

It drifted through the base like smoke curling around corners, impossible to pin down but impossible to ignore.

“Here comes the sun.”

It bounced off walls, passing lips in hushed tones, slipping into conversations as a half-joke, half-omen. At first, the 141 didn’t pay it much attention. Soldiers had their quirks, their superstitions- rituals to keep them sane when missions dragged too long and they smelled more blood than earth. But this one stuck.

Price furrowed his brow the first time he heard it. Ghost only tilted his head slightly, filing it away. Gaz grimaced and muttered something about troops getting weird ideas. Soap, though- he took notice.

He’d caught it more than once before a mission, said like a prayer or maybe a warning. He’d asked around, but answers were vague. “You’ll know when you see it.” That’s all they’d tell him. It irritated him to no end.

Then the mission happened.

It was supposed to be a clean extraction. A quick in-and-out, but things went sideways fast. Soap had been covering the team’s six when the ambush hit. A sharp crack split the air, followed by the searing pain in his side. He hit the ground hard, blood soaking into the dirt, a familiar, burning ache travelling through his body.

“Soap’s hit!” Gaz’s voice barked through comms, panic threading through the static.

“Pull him out!” Price ordered.

But the line fizzled and died. Soap’s world narrowed- gunfire, shouts, and the taste of copper in his mouth. He couldn’t hear the others anymore. The ground felt colder than it should have. He pressed his hand against the wound, but it was bad. Really bad.

This is it, he thought. This is where I die.

The edges of his vision blurred. He barely noticed the figure sprinting toward him until a flash of bright red and orange, a blazing fire, pierced through the smoke and haze.

Like the sun.

You hit the ground beside him, all motion and precision, your gear unlike anything he’d ever seen. Bright red and orange covered your tactical vest and helmet- colors that didn’t belong in a war zone. Colors that should’ve made you a target, a dead woman walking.

But instead, you looked like salvation.

“Stay with me, Sargeant.” You said, voice sharp and steady. You weren’t panicked- not even a little. It was comforting.

Soap stared, wide-eyed, as your hands worked quickly to stop the bleeding. He should’ve been paying attention to the pain, to the gunfire, to anything else- but he couldn’t stop looking at you.

“What the hell are ya wearing?” he rasped, because that was apparently the only thought his brain could form.

You didn’t look up. “Bright colors make it easier to spot me. Medics don’t have the luxury of hiding- we have to be seen when it counts.”

“It’s bloody ridiculous.” he muttered- and then sucked in a sharp breath as you tightened the bandage.

“Maybe,” you said, finally glancing at him. “But it got me here, didn’t it?”

Soap’s heart stumbled. Your eyes were sharp, focused- but there was something else there too, something warm. Something steady.

Here comes the sun.

It hit him all at once. That’s what the others meant. It wasn’t just the colors. It was you. The way you moved, the way your voice cut through the noise, the way you didn’t hesitate for a second.

“Stay awake, Sargeant.” You ordered, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t have a single smart remark.

Much later, he woke up in the med tent, groggy but alive, and immediately found himself staring at you again.

You were restocking supplies nearby, your bright gear an almost comical contrast to the sterile white walls. The moment you noticed him looking, you crossed the room.

“You’re awake,” you said, checking his vitals. Your voice was softer now, calm and patient. He felt like he could melt. “Good.”

“You’re real.” He blurted out before he could stop himself.

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head. “What?”

“Thought I was hallucinating.” He gestured vaguely at your vest, a grin cracking on his lips. “I mean, look at ya.” Lovely. The sun has never looked better.

Your lips twitched, like you were holding back a smile. “I get that a lot.”

Before he could come up with anything else to say- anything remotely smooth- the tent flap opened.

Price, Ghost, and Gaz stepped in, their eyes immediately landing on you. And for once, Soap wasn’t the only one caught off guard.

Gaz blinked. “You’re… bright.”

“Easy to spot.” You said, beaming.

Ghost stared at you for a few seconds longer, peering, before he spoke. “…You’re the sun.”

Price studied you for a long moment as well, then nodded like something clicked into place with a sigh. “Makes sense.”

You, on the other hand, looked confused and unsure, tilting your head once more in the way kittens do.

Soap couldn’t stop staring. He barely even heard the others talking, answering your confusion. All he could think about was how you’d shown up when he thought he was done for- and how you’d looked like a fiery star in the vast expanse of a cold, dark sky.

You glanced at him again, eyes sharp and warm all at once, lips quirking in a delicate smile while Gaz talked with you.

Here comes the sun, he thought.

(… would it be possible to cradle the sun, such warmth, in his hands?)

[yeagersss]

Sukuna x f!Reader

In which Sukuna brings home child Uraume — 1

next —>

You rubbed your eyes in disbelief as you stared at the child hiding behind your husband's legs and peaking at you.

Sukuna didn't pay attention to your questioning stare, he simply sauntered in to your shared home and tossed the meat he had hunted on the table. As if it was just an average day for the two of you.

Except it wasn't because there was a child right next to him.

"Um... Love?" You questioned softly.

"What?" He grunted.

"Mind telling me who... that is?"

Sukuna crossed his upper arms while resting his lower on his hips. He shrugged. "Our ice house is no more. This child can create ice so I brought them home."

Of course he did. Leave it to your husband to replace an actual functioning cooler with a literal child.

Speaking of a cooler...

"The icehouse is broken? I swear it was perfectly fine when I went there this morning..." You mused.

But a quick glance outside the window confirmed that it was indeed broken. Crushed by a tree and blood splattered everywhere from the meat stored inside of it.

And just one look at the fallen tree, you can tell what—no, who was responsible for this destruction. There was a large, clean cut right at its base.

You turned to your husband with an accusing frown but he opted to not look at you. He knows that the moment he locked eyes with you, he'll have to face your wrath and.... He'd rather not.

You sighed and shook your head before walking over to the child who stepped away from you the moment you got closer.

You stopped, keeping your distance and smiled kindly. "It's okay. Don't be afraid, little one. I won't hurt you."

Your voice was soft, your eyes were kind so when the child looked up at Sukuna and saw the way he was looking at you, they knew you were trustworthy.

And yet...

"You won't harm me but... I can harm you." Was what the child spoke.

Your heart sank at their words and the way they looked away. Their gaze was an empty and distant void. This poor child...

But the King of Curses scoffed at their words. "Go to her. As long as I am here you cannot harm her."

You were surprised at how this child had came to trust Sukuna that they took his word and slowly stepped over to you. Besides you, no one else in this land would ever dare trust him. Then again, your husband never gave them a reason to.

You went down on your knees to be at the child's level. A small, loving smile graced your features as you reached over to brush your fingers against their cheek.

Ice cold.

But that didn't stop you as you brushed their hair in comfort. "You poor thing... Just what have you been through?" You asked softly.

The child kept quiet, their eyes gathered with unshed tears. They closed it to stop them from flowing down. And then, very very tentatively they leaned into your touch.

"...You're warm." They mumbled.

Your heart warmed at those soft words. You were happy that this child had found comfort in you.

Despite being the King of Curses' wife, you loved children. You always wanted one of your own. You had even managed to convince your husband to have a child together.

But those dreams were far gone when you found out you were infertile.

It took a while but you had gotten over it. Though part of you still wished that you can have that. A small family with your husband.

So when you looked up at Sukuna, that's when you noticed his gaze. A look that was only reserved for you. Tender, soft and... loving. But there was another meaning behind it...

This is my gift to you.

Your heart leaped and you felt tears gathering in your eyes. The smile you gave him was nothing short of radiant that had him looking away from you. But you knew he was flustered just from the red tint on the tip of his ears.

You laughed softly and got on your feet, gently pulling the child close to you. "What's your name, little one?"

"Uraume."

You hummed. "Uraume... What a beautiful name. Are you hungry, Uraume?"

Uraume felt their stomach grumble just then so they softly nodded.

"Very well, then I'll get started on dinner."

Uraume looked up at you, their pinkish eyes staring at you with a curious glint. "Can I help?" They asked.

You smiled, running a gentle hand through their white hair.

"Of course."

next —>

[goqmir]

cis people reading this post, you should understand two things:

1) if you think you are being kind and have a good relationship with a trans person, and you misgender them or deadname them once or more every time you see them, you are not being kind, and you probably don't have as good of a relationship as you think.

why? because misgendering and deadnaming fucking hurts. it actually hurts more than you can comprehend. it hurts like hell. it hurts like you just got stabbed for real and i'm not joking and it never ever feels better.

so answer me this: if you wanted to hang out with someone you love, and every time you did so they stabbed you once or twice with a big sharp knife and it hurt like fucking hell and left a lasting wound on you, would you still go hang out with that person regularly? if not, why do you feel entitled that the trans person you have this relationship should come visit you, knowing that possibly more than once you'll deadname or misgender them? why are you putting a knife to their throat?

2) you actually, inherently, need to put in more effort about the little parts of speech, such as pronouns, names, and gendering words and phrases, when talking to a transgender person rather than a cisgender person. it's actually more effort. you need to take the time when talking to make sure you phrase things correctly so you aren't misgendering them or deadnaming them. because, as we've established, and even though it might be a simple mistake to you, it hurts like hell to them, like a knife entering their body.

cisgender people do not have this problem, so it's somewhat harder to hurt them in casual conversation by mixing up a pronoun (which is a common mistake when talking without thinking too much for anyone!). when talking to a trans person, you need to think about your words. every cis person i've ever met not only doesn't understand this, but feels entitled to not having to pay any more attention to gendering me correctly than any cis person. and that doesn't work, because cis people don't get stabbed by simple words that are easy to mix up. you gotta talk slower and more thoughtfully until gendering this person right is second nature and if you don't you will hurt them and they'll bleed and it will be entirely your fault.

trans people are not weak because they can be hurt by your carelessness-- rather, you are cruel for hurting them for it. and the only way to not hurt them is to stop and take a second to think about what you'll say before you say it to them. but no cis person i've ever met understands this. maybe you could be the first?

sometimes i see cis people say "trans people will understand if you misgender them at first. i call my nephew 'her' all the time and he knows i don't mean it" no he doesnt. he probably never hangs out with you for more than ten minutes because that's how long you can last in a conversation before making him feel like shit. also he thinks you're, best case scenario, stupid for not being able to figure it out, or worst case scenario, uncaring about him and his needs. he doesn't like spending time with you. you're deluding yourself into thinking you're far kinder than you are. you're weird man.

[unknownati]

xi. slow morning

a/n: from my draftz if theres typos dont tell me im blind and proud... as a side note i feel like i write intimacy better than anything else AM I TWEAKING.

warnings/tags: gn!reader, no use of y/n, no desc of reader's physical features, fluff and smut, short, handjob (e! recieving—very ekko focused), intimacy (both nonsexual and sexual), cuddling, morning sex, modern!ekko, slight sub!ekko, hoping this position is understandable lol, no morning breath mentions y'all arent in each others face, half-proofread...meaning i gave up halfway thru. goodnight! 🙋🏾‍♀️

_______________________________________________

warm slivers of sunlight seep through cracks in the curtains, spilling on your face as your eyes fluttered open, making a slow ascent into consciousness.

you're met with a phone screen, a pair of hands framing the device. ekko's. a thumb swipes along the screen, transitioning into the next video. two cats cuddling. you watch him hover over the send button, tap it, choose your profile, and type the message 'us :)' before sending it to you. your phone buzzes faintly on the nightstand, though you don't reach for it.

gentle breaths seep into your ears from behind you, relaxed and steady. a shift in movement, warmth enveloping your figure—his arms, which you reach up to stroke. his hold is protective and grounded.

he was long awake before you, you can tell from the way his voice sounds, smooth and airy.

"morning, angel."

it's a stark contrast from when he first wakes up. he sounds more gruff. more miserable. much like how you sound now.

you groan, soft. you stretch to rub the sleep out of your eyes. "g'morning."

you don't feel miserable, though. far from it. waking up in his arms is the only way you've ever liked waking up.

neither of you will be getting up any time soon. not with the way your legs are tangled together, the way he presses a tender kiss against the shell of your ear as a secondary greeting, it's all too...weighted. too comfortable to just brush past. it's the weekend, anyway.

you turn, neck slightly craned, forehead pressing into his clavicle. his scent clings to him, as intoxicating and heavenly as ever. the faint traces of last night's shower linger. you know he used your body wash—he always did. shea butter lied above a layer of his basic lotion (eucerin, you put him on since he has drier skin), completed with that divine cologne he uses. forest-y, notes of pine and bergamot.

your fingertips drag along the bare skin of his side, and he twitches away from your touch. a breathy laugh exits him.

"that tickles."

you stop, moving down to his core. "sorry," you murmur. it's half-sincere.

your digits dance across the surface of his stomach, quite literally. you create legs with your pointer and middle finger, making your little hand-person do twirls and jumps. his laughs bubbles again.

"that tickles worse," his chin meets the crown of your head when he looks down, unable to catch your expression. a hand meets your nape, mimicking your movements.

it's featherlight and playful, as if bugs are scuttling along your skin. you laugh the same as he does, shoulders shrugging up in discomfort.

"okay, okay! i'm sorry."

his hand settles at the bottom of your back, right where your spine curves inward. it's relaxed at first, but then it presses. pulls you closer. as if there's even any more space to close.

your legs wrap around his waist, the leg which you lay on pushing beneath his hip to raise it. it's only uncomfortable for a second, then it's like you're slowly melting into each other's forms. bare chest to bare chest, chins resting on the other's shoulder, hearts swelling at the same speed. you know your leg will fall asleep soon, but you don't care.

yet, he's not paying enough attention to you. not as much as you'd like. sure, his hand is stroking your back. sure, he still seems like he's trying to find ways to pull you closer. but his focus strays. it's all on his phone, undeserving.

his eyes stay glued to the screen, darting around. some video about owls. his hand was beginning to falter, his affection slowing.

greedy. you need more. you know how to get it.

you shift away and your hand meets his side again. he flinches, assuming you're continuing with your ticklish movements. he settles once realizing you won't. then it trails, a slow drag down towards the front of his boxers—a light blue pair with snoopy and woodstock printed in an even pattern. you bought them for him a while back, and he was never one to complain. plus, they were comfy.

only when your fingers breach the elastic band did he notice what you were doing. he doesn't stop you.

he wasn't soft for very long after you reveal his length. feeling it grow stiff in your hands made your heart rate pick up.

"i've barely even touched you yet," you murmur, turning to litter his neck with open-mouthed kisses. he groans in response.

his tip prods at your naval once his dick is standing at full attention. an airy chuckle flows from you into his ears. your fist closes just below the head, thumb reaching to rub along the sensitive underside. each vein, each ridge that you trace over elicits a whine—ones that are close to melodic, satisfying hums to your ears.

your hand moves agonizingly slow, long strokes that leave his mind going fuzzy. it's not long until his tip starts crying, which you happily collect as lubricant. his brows knit together, delicate gasps overlapping the video in the background.

ekko's face nuzzles into the junction connecting your neck and shoulder, plump lips pressing into the end of your collarbone. his moans muffle against your skin.

"hidin'?" you ask, your free hand reaching to run through his locs. he nods, slowly thrusting his hips up into your fist, meeting your movements halfway.

a small noise clicks behind you, and whatever video he was watching stopped. then a thud against the mattress. he dropped his phone. another arm clamps around you, and you know you've got him good.

finally, the attention is on you. his grasp on your body is tight, the sweet desperate nothings he whispers into your ears as he curses and begs you not to stop are angelic.

"fuck...don't stop. please, you make me feel s-so good. god, baby—"

you loosely echo his words back to him, voice sultry and raspy. "yeah?" you purr. "feels good?"

your wrist flicks faster, too quick for his lazy hips to keep up with. he loses rhythm, his pants stutter. he murmurs something, too shyly for you to hear, yet you can only assume he's coming undone. your theory is quickly confirmed, his movements slowing to a stop as he releases all over your hand and tummy, fingertips pressing into your back.

if only you could hear his pretty cries better. against your skin, they're low and subdued, but you can hear the incantations of your name paired with his voice breaking off at the peak of his climax.

neither of you realized how tense his body had become until he relaxes against you, hand still weakly skimming along your lower back.

still, your bodies were heavy. neither of you wanted to move. but the cum dripping off you was starting to feel weird, and you want it off.

you barely even get to think about moving before his arms squeeze tighter around you. "ekko, i wanna go wipe this off."

"not yet," he whispers shakily. "just...a few more minutes. can't be done with you yet."

you've definitely won his attention. for a few hours.

[vaguely-concerned]

huh. you know something I just consciously put together for the first time about caterina and lucanis' relationship is that through the game we get to hear them talk about each other a lot, but we get very few chances to hear them speak with each other at any length at all. contrast it with other companions whose storylines have elements of 'believed lost/long time no see relative returns!' like bellara and davrin, where we get to see both of them have several pretty in-depth conversations with cyrian and eldrin. hell I think even rook talks with varric longer in the regret prison scene than we ever get to see lucanis and caterina interact directly.

(and when we do see them interact, it's mostly one-sided -- it is, perhaps unsurprisingly, caterina who is doing most of the talking and giving all the orders, as he ruefully observes is her wont after murder of crows. including jumpscaring him with 'you're first talon now btw' and the shocked pikachu face in five acts he goes through in response lmao. perhaps it's more accurate to say that she talks at him and he reacts, than that they talk to each other much.)

it has such an interesting effect too, because in deliberately denying us direct insight or experience and only having this mosaic of description from each of them to go on, as well as forcing us to pay attention to the negative space of what is carefully not said, it's evocative along the same principle that you never actually show the monster in a horror film. if you've read the wigmaker job you have a clearer image of the more uh. worrying elements at play here going in, but there is something fascinatingly insidious and naturalistic in the way it's 'hushed up' in the game itself. she has his complete loyalty both as a member of her house and, more importantly, that of an abused child to a parent figure. he readily admits several times that she's a difficult person to live with, an even more difficult person to be loved by ("even for me. and I was her favourite")... but never once does he actively blame her nor truly conceptualize that he has every right to do so (that he can be angry with her and still love her, because whether he should or not he unavoidably does), or that she might have acted differently than she did, that she made a choice every time to hurt him. even affectionately he speaks of her as a force of nature, an act of god -- something that can't be reasoned or pleaded with or resisted, something you can only hope to navigate with as little pain as possible and pray to survive. let yourself get carried away by the riptide, resisting it will only make it worse. you don't compromise with a hurricane, you just try to find the best shelter you can and cross your fingers while you wait for it to pass and be calm again.

love is that hurricane. you do whatever she asks. you earn her continued affection day by day by never letting her down. you only want the things she tells you it's okay to want and cut everything else away preemptively. ("A wyvern tooth dagger?? I loved wyverns as a boy --Caterina would never let me have one of these, though." and as we have all wept and gnashed our teeth over, it never even OCCURS to him that he's a like thirty-five year old adult man who can buy himself any dagger he wants at any time. she said he couldn't have one. so he'll never have one. that's just how it works. and maybe if Illario could just accept that and find his peace with it like I have, this whole thing wouldn't be so difficult. oh lucanis.)

such is the price -- and the cost -- of being loved by her, it's a loan on which the interest will never stop piling up. you have to keep paying it down in perfection every day if you want to keep it. who got the worse deal there: the grandson who has abandoned everything else in life to live up to that and mostly succeeded, until the day he's so burned out and broken it threatens to no longer be an option, or the grandson who can never seem to scrape together enough worth in her eyes no matter how he begs, borrows or steals it, how he hustles and plays dirty?

one of the worst things that can happen to anyone is to be loved by a selfish god. another one of the worst things that can ever happen to anyone is to not be loved by a selfish god. (hope that helps, boys!) even in betraying everything else, Illario can't bring himself to hurt his grandmother, because that would defeat the whole point. who would he defiantly be proving himself worthy to, without her. in love, devotion, submission, hatred, frustration, bitterness, everything is defined in relation to her, you can spot the gravitational force of it through how the dellamorte family move through time and space. she -- her love and regard and attention -- is still the sun both of their worlds orbit around, even as adults. the game might never tell you outright 'she used to beat and starve them growing up. for their own good you see, so they'd be strong (and broken down enough for her to build them up again however she wanted but I'm sure that's incidental)', but if you know even a little bit about how these dynamics can work the writing is on the wall everywhere you look and all the more unsettling for it.

follow lucanis' freeze-logic and fraught interpersonal catch 22 irreconcilable mixed emotions problems back far enough, looong before the ossuary entered the picture, and you start to see caterina's ghost around every fucking corner. she is so proud of him. (well, she would be. she made him. she forged exactly the knife she needed and it rests willingly, devotedly, in her hands, it would return to her every time because it doesn't know love as anything but to be a knife. his tama never taught him how to be anything else. his biggest fear with her is that she won't even want him back, the way he is now.) to the best ability of her soul, whatever parts of it survived a lifetime of crow politics and 'five children, eight grandchildren, only Illario and me left now', I think she really does loves him. he certainly loves her, with all the sincerity and artless desperation of a child, of the little boy he was once. and what she's done to him (and to illario, for all his shitty gremlin scar-ass antics lol) is awful. the harm is real, and the love is real, and trying to find a way for these two truths to exist in the same space is driving all three of them their own individualized forms of insane. you know. the way only family can and so often does lol.

through implications and short glimpses and having to put the pieces together yourself, you can have the feeling that there is very genuine mutual love and attachment in this relationship... and that beneath that there is something so profoundly wrong. and the sneaking '...oh shit it gets worse the longer I think about it' horror of that is more effective for me at least than the stark in-your-face presentation of the facts of the matter could have been. the love is here. the love is here. it only ever makes it worse.

[lechrts]

Oscar Piastri where he just can’t (and won’t) stop looking at reader and she’s just like hey so ??? what the hell r u doing

Ever Seen. ✷ Oscar Piastri

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Assistant!Friend!reader

Summary: When he just can’t seem to keep his eyes off you, since you are the prettiest girl he’s ever seen!

Word Count: 2k

Disclaimer/s: just mega fluff tbh. lando cameo too idk.

Vera’s Voice! ohhhh boy i loved this one. first ever request :333 SMIRK. smile. thank u. hope i did it justice baef. mwah. enjoy!!! ^_^

Oscar was staring at you again.

You didn’t notice at first—you were too busy flipping through your clipboard, listing out his schedule for the day in your usual no-nonsense tone.

The paddock was alive with the kind of buzz that only a race weekend could bring, and you thrived in it. But while the engineers rushed past and the fans cheered in the distance, you felt the familiar weight of his gaze, and that now-familiar flutter in your chest stirred again.

“…and after the debrief, you’ve got a window for lunch before the media pen,” You said, keeping your eyes fixed on the notes in front of you. “If you want, I can go and grab you a salmon bowl, and then don’t forget that your Sky Sports interview is at 2:30, and—”

“—qualifying starts at 4,” Oscar cut in, finishing your sentence like he’d memorized it.

“Exactly.” You glanced over your shoulder to find him trailing a step behind you, his race suit half-zipped, his balaclava in his hands.

He was walking slowly, though, like he was in no hurry to actually catch up. His expression? That soft, quiet look that he’d been giving you for weeks now.

You stopped walking.

“Are you actually listening, or are you just pretending again?” You teased, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m listening,” he said, his lips twitching into a faint smile. But he didn’t make any effort to elaborate, and you caught the way his eyes darted away as if he’d been caught. “Ish…” He said with a subtle smile, finally stepping up beside you.

His voice was playful, but the way he glanced at you from under his lashes made your stomach flip.

This wasn’t new. The glances, the lingering smiles, the way he seemed to focus just a little too much on you—it had been building for weeks now. Months, even. And while you didn’t dare acknowledge it aloud, you weren’t blind to what it meant.

You just weren’t ready to deal with it.

Oscar had hired you as his assistant nearly two years ago. He’d claimed, in his usual deadpan way, that no one else could deal with him the way you could.

And while it was true—you knew his quirks better than anyone—you also knew what being his assistant really meant. It meant being with him everywhere.

From grueling race weekends to early-morning gym sessions to late-night strategy calls, you were the constant presence in his life.

It was only natural that you’d grown close. Closer than you’d ever been, even after years of friendship. And now, with every glance, every lingering touch, every moment of unspoken tension, it felt like you were teetering on the edge of something more.

But that wasn’t part of the plan.

Later that day, you found yourself in the driver’s room with him, running through his schedule again while he lounged on the couch.

He was reclined, one leg stretched out lazily while he idly spun a water bottle in his hands. You, meanwhile, sat cross-legged on the floor with your clipboard in front of you, your usual position whenever you needed to focus.

“…And then after the media pen, you’ll have about an hour before dinner with Zak and the team,” you explained, scribbling a quick note.

Oscar hummed in acknowledgment, but you could tell he wasn’t really listening.

You glanced up. “You’re not paying attention again.”

He didn’t respond.

Instead, he was watching you, his gaze soft and steady in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

“Oscar,” you said, your voice quieter this time. “What?”

He blinked, startled, and the faintest blush crept up his neck. “Nothing,” he said quickly, looking away.

“Liar,” you murmured, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.

Before he could respond, the door swung open, and in waltzed Lando, grinning like he owned the place.

“Am I interrupting?” Lando asked, His tone playful as his eyes darted between you and Oscar.

“No,” You said quickly, sitting up straighter.

“Yes,” Oscar said at the same time, earning a sharp glare from you.

Lando’s grin widened. “Knew it,” he said, his tone full of exaggerated delight.

Oscar groaned. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, I’m not starting anything,” Lando defended with a wide smile, his hands raised in mock surrender. “I’m just observing.”

“Lando—”

“You two should really try to be more subtle though,” Lando continued, cutting Oscar off. “The entire paddock’s talking about it.”

You felt your cheeks heat up with a quirked brow, but before you could protest, Oscar stood up, casually shoving Lando toward the door.

“Out.”

“So aggressive,” Lando said, laughing as he stumbled backward. “Alright, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it.”

“Out,” Oscar repeated, shutting the door firmly behind him.

When he turned back to you, you were staring at him, wide-eyed.

“What?” He asked, his expression unreadable.

“Are people actually talking?”

Oscar hesitated, his jaw tightening slightly before his features softened. “Does it matter if they are?”

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning.

And for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

Later that evening, after the chaos of qualifying and the non-stop media pen post interviews, you and Oscar found yourselves alone in his driver’s room once again.

You were stood in front of him, going over and planning out his schedule for the next day, while he sat in front of you, unusually quiet.

“…And then after the debrief, I think you should have a free evening before the sponsor event,” You said, your voice trailing off as you glanced at him.

He was staring at you again.

“What?” You asked, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

He didn’t answer right away but he stood up.

Oscar reached out, his hand brushing lightly against yours. The touch was brief, almost hesitant, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“Uhm,” You said quietly, your heart racing. “Something wrong?”

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to fade away as he took the clipboard out of your other hand and set it aside, looking down at you.

“You know,” He paused, his voice barely above a whisper. “There’s a little wrinkle between your eyes when you talk. It’s the cutest thing.” The words lingered in the air, and you blinked, caught off guard.

“What?”

“This wrinkle,” He said, his lips curling into the softest of smiles. “It shows up when you’re focused. You always get it when you’re explaining something or organizing my life. Like just now.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to find the words. His gaze was steady and unflinching, a mixture of warmth and vulnerability that you hadn’t seen before—not like this.

“Oscar…” Your voice was soft, your chest tightening.

“Yeah?” His voice was barely audible now, his face inching closer to yours, as if he couldn’t stop himself even if he tried.

You hesitated, trying to ignore the way your pulse was racing. “Are you okay? You’ve been… different lately.”

“Different?” His brow quirked slightly, but his eyes never left yours.

“You’ve been looking at me like…” You trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence.

“Like what?” He prompted, his voice gentle, but the intensity in his gaze was unrelenting.

“Like this,” You whispered, gesturing faintly to the space between the two of you.

Oscar exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing. “That’s because I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you something.”

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. “Tell me what?”

“That I’ve been in love with you for longer than I can even remember,” He said simply, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Your heart stopped.

The words hung between you, raw and unfiltered, and for the first time, Oscar looked uncertain. “I didn’t mean to spring it on you like this,” He admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “But I just, can’t keep pretending anymore.”

You stared at him, your mind reeling. “You… love me?”

His lips twitched into a nervous smile. “Yeah,” He said quietly, his hands fidgeting at his sides. “I do.”

And just like that, the tension that had been building for months snapped.

Without overthinking, without letting yourself second-guess, you stepped forward and kissed him.

It was soft at first, tentative, like testing the waters. But then his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and the kiss deepened.

The world fell away, leaving nothing but the warmth of his lips and the feeling of being completely and utterly seen.

When you finally broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, and his hands lingered on your waist.

His eyes searched yours, soft and full of wonder.

“Well,” You breathed, a nervous laugh escaping you. “That explains all your staring.”

“Can’t blame me.“ He grinned. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. You even manage to make the McLaren kit look breathtaking.” He joked, his grip on your waist tightening as his fingertips traced mindless shapes.

You laughed, not saying anything. Instead, you just pulled him back in, your lips meeting his once more.

likes, comments, & reblogs are all appreciated!!! ^_^ and let me know if you would like to be apart of my permanent tag list!!! <3

extra vera’s voice! this is also an apology for the lando angst I posted last night. Ok? Ok.

tags! @planetpedri @halfwayhearted @wdcbox @freyathehuntress

[retrosabers]

𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐝.

FICMAS DAY 5 - UNWRAPPING

A RETROSABERS X PANDAPETALS DOUBLE FEATURE

old man logan x fem!reader

summary: logan didn’t believe in exchanging christmas presents. so, you offer him something you know he can’t refuse. a night where’s he’s free to have you all to himself.

contains: 18+ content below the cut. MINORS DNI. making out, some dry humping if you squint, oral (fem receiving), implied age gap, a dash of angst, swearing

word count: 2.6k

a/n: you thought i’d let a whole season pass without a little taste of some festive smut? absolutely hilarious. this is my first time writing for old man logan, and i think i did pretty alright considering i have yet to watch the movie (i’m terrified of the pain it will bring)

any feedback is always greatly appreciated!

also, don’t be confused by the fact that this says day 5 when i still haven’t posted day 4, i’m writing these bad boys out of order

and finally, a huge shoutout & thanks to the wildly talented @pandapetals for agreeing to do a little collaboration! please go check out her blog and all of her amazing work! <3

FIND HER PART HERE

!! divider by @estrelinha-s !!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

“are you sure your eyes are closed?”

logan grunts. “they’re closed, darlin’. promise.”

he’s been sitting here for almost fifteen minutes now, waiting for you to bring out this so-called “surprise.” from the ambient lighting and freshly washed bed sheets, the man thinks he’s got a general idea of what it is, but you’ve been fiddling in the bathroom too long for him to be certain.

still, he appeases you, and waits patiently at the foot of your bed. even if it’s a little bit uncomfortable on his knees.

meanwhile you’re fussing over every little detail of your appearance in the groggy bathroom mirror.

this was your solution to getting around logan’s “i don’t need anything for christmas” rule. you always begrudgingly abided by it, save for the box of cigars that always mysteriously turnt up in his nightstand on christmas eve. you knew he could never turn it down, no matter how much he tried.

logan could never say no to a smoke break with a nice pack of cubans. and he most certainly couldn’t say no to you.

that's how you decided upon this whole scheme. dolling yourself up and donning a new set of lingerie themed to the occasion, knowing logan had no leg to stand on. because technically, you didn’t buy anything for him. you bought this for you. he just so happened to be the person who was going to help take it off.

or rip it off, knowing your man’s track record of impatience and eagerness.

you share the exact same sentiment, though your tendency to be anile overpowers all else. you know it doesn’t matter if you have a hair or two out of place, or if your lips are slightly over lined. perfection never mattered to logan, but it still didn’t stop you from doing everything in your power to be pretty damn close to it tonight.

even if it meant making him wait a few extra minutes.

you pay your reflection one final glance before sauntering out into the bedroom.

he smells you before he hears you.

your scent wafting into the room captures his attention more than anything else. logan’s senses may not be as keen as they once were, but the fragrance of you was something utterly unmistakable. a sweet yet sultry aroma that he ached to have on his skin, his clothes, anywhere, to keep him grounded. to remind himself that you were real and you were his. it only adds to the anticipation building inside, the mere seconds he has to wait dragging on like hours in his mind.

a wave of lust overtakes you as logan comes into view. somehow just the sight of him is enough to send a bout of arousal down to your core.

that crisp white dress shirt he always wears is unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up to reveal those chiseled forearms you love to have wrapped around you. the soft glow of the lamp on the bedside table illuminates the weathered curves of his face so beautifully. a contrast to the ruggedness of his position; legs lazily spread wide and long, thick fingers tapping mindlessly against his thigh.

the picture of a real man. and he’s all yours for the taking.

the sound of your footsteps padding against the floor grows louder. obediently, logan’s eyes stay shut, despite the fact that the other aroma you carry is hot and heavy in his nostrils. his upper lip twitches with a knowing smirk.

so this is exactly what he had in mind.

on instinct, his thighs spread even further when he senses your approach, hands itching to find their place on you somehow. when your own stay glued to your sides, he takes that as his cue to do the same.

logan really hates to admit it, but there’s something about this little bit of mystery that’s got him going before you’ve even begun.

“you ready?” your voice comes out breathy, and if logan didn’t know any better he’d think you’re nervous. and truth be told, you were. not that logan wouldn’t get his kicks, you were certain of that. more so that you’d be unable to walk come tomorrow morning.

though neither of you would consider it a bad thing

“yes ma’am,” he grumbles in response, knowing exactly the effect it has on you. the cockiness on his face is inevitable when he hears your breath hitch.

tease. if that’s how he wants to play, you’re in for a long night.

with a quiet sigh, you splay your fingers over the expanse of his broad shoulders. the man takes it as permission, calloused palms wrapping around your calves and not daring to travel any further. he knows he’ll lose any remaining self control if he gets so much as an inch closer to the apex of your thighs.

“okay.” you murmur. “you can open your eyes.”

slowly, those dark irises begin to drink you in. his grip on you tightens as soon as he gets the whole picture, a visible tent forming in his dress slacks almost immediately.

logan thought you were the most beautiful women he’s ever seen under any conditions. didn’t matter if you were sick, if you were bare faced, none of that changed how otherworldly you looked in his eyes. but nothing, and i mean nothing, compared to the sight of you before him right now.

you look like something out of a dream. hair styled in a way that drives him particularly crazy, makeup done to highlight your features so elegantly in the dim light. the best, and quite possibly logan’s favorite part, however, is that your lips are painted a shade of red to perfectly match the ensemble adorning your body. it sparks a slideshow of rather lewd images in his brain, wanting the color scattered across his cheek, his chest, his cock. anywhere you’re willing to brand him.

he’s committed every inch of you to memory by now. countless nights of exploring, mapping out your curves with hand and tongue. and still, everytime he sees you like this, practically offering yourself on a silver platter, he can’t help but stare back as though this is the very first time.

especially when that crimson silk is accentuating your figure so nicely.

“do you like it?” you ask coyly, bottom lip tucked between your teeth like you’re not fully aware of the power you have over him.

logan scoffs out a laugh, dragging his hands higher and higher until they tug at your hips, pulling you to straddle his lap in one swift motion. you squeak at the sudden display of strength, forgetting that despite his age, he was still infinitely stronger than any man you’ve ever met.

even beneath the layers of fabric between you, the sheer size of him was impossible to ignore. fuck, and he wasn’t even fully hard. you bite back a moan at the outline of his length pressed between your legs.

“that answer your question?” he quips back lowly, smirking smugly.

you hum in content, pressing your hands further into his shoulders as you experimentally grind your hips. the pair of you preen at the contact, desperate for any form of relief after being pent up and waiting.

“careful,” logan grits out in warning. “gonna cum in my pants like a fuckin’ teenager if you keep that up.”

you tsk in response, cocking your head with faux concern. “can’t have that, now can we?”

logan shakes his head at your antics, eyes wandering back over your body once more. before tonight, his favorite set of lingerie you owned was a black lacy number. simple and classic. but the more time he spends inspecting what’s currently adorning your frame, the more he thinks that red might be his new favorite color.

something warm spills over him when he glances at your chest again. something different than what he normally experiences every time he catches a glimpse of your cleavage, anyways.

“is that a bow?” he questions, a little bit amused.

you let out a soft giggle, nodding in reply.

“wanted you to be able to unwrap your present.”

you can count the amount of times logan has laughed, really truly laughed, on one hand. and as much as it sounds like music to your ears, you’re rather confused as to why he’s laughing right now.

“what’s so funny?” you huff, brows knit together and bottom lip jutted in a near pout.

logan averts your inquiry, burying his face in your neck so you can’t see him grinning like an idiot. instead, he busies himself with dragging his lips up and down the column of your throat, reveling in the breathy moans spilling from your lips with each and every press against your skin.

from the moment you met logan howlett, you fantasized about that salt and pepper beard. longed to feel the delicious sting of scruff against every part of you. as addicting as it is, the sensation isn’t enough to keep you completely distracted.

“logan,” you whine, titling your head back to grant him more access. “m’serious.”

he doesn’t halt his ministrations, too consumed with making sure your neck is painted every shade of lavender under the sun. he only stops when you rake your fingers in his hair and physically pull him off, much to both your dismays.

you give him a look. that pursed lips, narrow eyed “what aren’t you saying to me” look that signals he’s going to have to fess up to whatever’s on his mind, or else the evening would be coming to an end right here and now. from the way he’s about to burst through the zipper on his dress slacks, you know he’s not considering weighing options.

logan sighs heavily. if you didn’t know all the variations of the sound, you’d think he was upset with you. but that was far from how the older man felt. he begins to examine your face, observing everything from the slopes of your bone structure, to the color of your irises. he studies your features like an artisan in a gallery, content on not missing a single detail.

after a moment, the corners of his mouth turn up a hair. eyes almost dopey; filled with a lovesickness he never thought could be possible.

“you’re somethin’ else, y’know that?” he murmurs into the air, rough fingertips tracing back and forth across your spine.

you speak the language of logan fluently, knowing exactly what the underlying message of his words were. in reality, he was saying, “what did i do in this life to deserve you? will you ever know how much i love you? i hope you’ll be mine for as long as you’ll have me.”

suddenly his round of laughter from before rings brighter in your ears.

instead of saying another word, you guide his face to yours, connecting your lips in a silent understanding.

logan always kisses you like a man starved, devouring you whole as though every kiss may be the last. there was nothing tame, or tender about the man they once called the wolverine, but you managed to slip between the cracks of his stony disposition, and bring forth all the parts of himself he swore he lost decades ago.

your hands encircle around the back of his neck, logan’s squeezing at the flesh of your hips. he pulls you impossibly closer, pressing the swell of your chest against his own. the feeling of your nipples pebbling through velvet fabric reminds him of the true nature of your current situation.

tonight was for him. his pleasure, his enjoyment. he knew you’d be heavily dissatisfied if he didn’t indulge in what you were offering.

and what kind of man would logan be, if he disappointed his sweet girl?

you’re not expecting him to be so gentle when he turns and flips you over, mouth never once leaving yours. a large hand spread across your back as he lowers you down onto the mattress with a care reserved for you and only you. a fact that adds to your current state of arousal. your legs open like second nature, and logan slots himself between them as though that’s where he was always meant to be.

the whine that leaves you when he pulls away would be embarrassing if it weren’t for the hunger in his stare. those normally hazel pupils now a brownish black that overshadowed bright white. he sits back on his haunches, glazing over your pretty little lingerie with a newfound appreciation.

he reaches to toy with the end of the bow tied snugly between your breasts, a teasing invitation that he graciously accepts.

at a tantalizing pace, he begins to unwrap his present, watching with lustful eyes as more and more skin becomes exposed. you arch your back the slightest bit to get the job done faster, the shoe of impatience now snug on your foot instead of his.

normally, logan would scold, spit something about “being a good girl and waiting.” but he’s just as riled up and eager as you are, and he gives the velvet one final tug that has your breasts springing free.

god you were absolute perfection.

he can’t resist running a thumb over your erect nipples, reveling in the way you squirm over such a small touch. your color coated lips swollen and shiny from his kisses. body already relaxed and pliant, willing to do whatever he so pleases.

a few minutes ago, he would’ve torn your outfit off without second thought and shown no mercy. let the shitty week he was having take control, guide him through the motions of achieving pleasure. but something inside logan urges him to be a little sentimental; take his sweet time on the off chance that he wakes up and discovers this was all a dream.

so he decides that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

the path down to your core was a familiar one, a route he knew like the back of his hand. sloppy, wet kisses trail down your stomach, a small crack in logan’s otherwise composed exterior. by the time he reaches the hem of your panties, tongue teasing beneath the waistband, you’re bursting at the seams with desire, unable to stop yourself from whimpering and bucking your hips upward.

“i gotcha honey,” he whispers against the inside of your thigh, rubbing soft circles with his thumb. “m’gonna take real good care of ya.”

logan knew you were soaked the second you walked into the room. didn’t need to see or feel it to know. still, he indulges his ego and stares proudly at the dark patch in the center of your underwear. knowing it was all his doing, that he was the only one who could get you like this.

when he pulls the fabric to the side and is met with your glistening folds, he can’t help the groan that rumbles in his chest.

“merry fuckin’ christmas to me,” he all but growls before diving right in.

it’s in moments like these where he wishes that photographic memory was his mutation, though he doubts he’ll ever forget this. his perfect girl, laid out so delicately beneath him, basking in the pale moonlight that seeped in between the curtains. his own personal utopia, paradise within the four walls of this rickety building you called home.

logan wonders if maybe he’s finally succumbed to the poison in his bones. because this sure does feel like heaven.

at the very least, it most definitely feels like christmas.

because having the privilege of watching you come undone was the gift that kept on giving all year round.

thanks for reading! <3

taglist: @alastor-simp @j4desblurbs @pandapetals @hextech-bros

!! if you would like to be tagged in the rest of the ficmas blurbs, please send me an inbox message or leave a comment !!

[thelongestway]

#i stopped listening to the discourse telling me to always and only they people until i know their pronouns years back#because it directly invalidates people who are clearly trying to give out gender signals#and instead i always signal that i don't know by making the first time i say it a question#“she? they?”#and always LEAD with what i think they're giving off#and anyway i am incredibly proud at my almost 100% hit rate#and you would not believe how excited non-binary folk get when you first meet them and correctly guess#“they?”#the trick is to guess one pronoun and leave a pause before guessing the next and look to them for the answer#make it obvious that it's a question#and yeah 95% of the time i don't need to guess a second and they're delighted that i guessed correctly#and if i get it wrong no-one's offended because i never acted like i was sure of it#and i usually only get it wrong when they prefer neopronouns anyway#and i have never got it so wrong as to be insulting#nobody has ever been mad at my guessing#because yeah just pay attention to what they're intentionally putting out there my friends

the risk of misgendering trans people goes down if you just pay attention to the conscious gendered signals they give you and stop paying attention to things out of their control. like I can’t control my height, the width of my hips, the sound of my voice (at least not without significant effort and training), but I can control the clothes I wear, the jewellery I put on, how I style my hair, the way I move etc. like it does feel sisyphean to do so much work to look like a dude every day and make it as easy as possible for cis people to know I’m a guy and they still refuse to gender me properly because some bodily measurement of mine entered clocking range. like that is part of the pain of dysphoria that remains even after you’ve begun transitioning, because you consciously spend all this energy cultivating these gendered signals to make moving through the world easy and all cis society does is fixate on shit that’s out of your control. It’s the same principle when thinking about how people tend to like getting compliments more for things that they can control because it takes time and effort and energy to control those things. and like my bar for cis allyship is so low at this point after years of misgendering and seeing my friends misgendered and mistreated that someone just reading those signals properly and using the correct pronouns is impressive to me lol. the climate is so absolutely hostile to trans people that seeing that one tiny piece of effort being made is literally a relief

[tojicide]

SANTA TELL ME! 𝓍 JJK MEN.

summary. they reluctantly join you in your holiday festivities by dressing up for christmas. their present? cumming down a different type of chimney. with gojo, toji, geto, nanami.

warnings. mdni! smut, fluff. fem! reader. wife/girlfriend! reader. unprotected, semi-public, oral (m + f. receiving), mating press, prone bone, missionary, pet names, breeding / breeding kink, bounded wrists, hair pulling, creampie. brief mentions of pregnancy.

★ satoru gojo — santa claus.

“don’t make me go,” he whines, plopping down onto your bed face-first. you didn’t even have to see his face to know that he was pouting, that pink bottom lip of his jutted beyond comprehension.

you huff, spinning around from the mirror to look at his miserable figure. to no one’s surprise, there he was, the strongest sorcerer of all behaving like a petulant child over having to dress up for a whopping two hours.

begrudgingly, you place a hand on his leg, rubbing up and down to gather his attention. “it won’t be so bad. stop your whining and get dressed, gojo.”

satoru picks his head up almost immediately, his brows knit in confusion. “gojo? oh, so now these children are turning my own wife against me!“

and by children, he means the students at jujutsu high school who were promised the satoru gojo’s presence at their holiday event. all he had to do was go rub elbows with the staff and students, wish a few people a ���meeeerry christmas!’ and be on his way. but of course he can’t be reasonable and do what he’s asked. who would satoru gojo be if not consistently difficult?

“what are you even— satoru, just get up!” you exclaim, tugging on his leg to pull him halfway down the bed.

he groans out. “i mean— they don’t even believe in santa claus anymore! what is the point?”

you scoff, tugging his leg once more. “don’t make me repeat myself or i’ll take away my promise of giving you a ‘special present’ once this is over.”

and it was incredible how fast he’d gotten dressed, his lanky frame now dressed in rich red fabric from head to toe. a santa claus costume. as he exits the closet, he is already wearing a frown. it’s borderline infuriatingly how handsome he is even when he wears such a downcast expression.

“aww!” you beam, cupping his face in admiration. you pinch his cheeks, watching as they become cherry red from both the contact and your reaction. “you look so cute!”

satoru’s face flushes, a scoff leaving him. “only cute? i must look horrific in that case.”

he plops down onto the stool in front of your vanity dresser, not daring to look at his reflection. just as he was about to complain for what felt like the hundredth time—he pauses. brow raised, he glances up at you with eyes swirling with mischief.

“oh, mrs. clauuuuus,” he sings, leaning back against the dresser. “i think i need a bit of practice before the big event. y’know… as first-time santa and all.”

you tilt your head, your expression portraying your obvious confusion. “practice? practice what?”

he stretches out his arms, beckoning you closer with his hands. “practice being ol’ saint nick, of course. need a pretty woman like you to come sit on my lap ‘n tell me what she wants for christmas. it’ll really get me in the right state of mind, i promise.”

you both know better. if the already growing erection beneath the fabric of his pants wasn’t telling enough, the haze of neediness in his gaze would have communicated his true intentions just as sufficiently.

with a rough sigh, you oblige, taking a sideways seat in his lap. your deep red dress rides up just a bit, revealing the smooth expanse of your thighs to the wandering eyes of your husband. he hardly bats an eye when you chuck a quiet insult of: “for christmas, i want you to stop complaining and let me finish my makeup.”

satoru’s hands map out your creamy skin—from your ankles to your knees to your thighs—all while you pay him no mind and continue to apply your lip liner. he raises his brows, bright eyes fitting to your lip balm as you apply it to your plush lips.

“ooh, what flavor you got?” he coos, leaning forward to try and capture your lips in a kiss.

you place a hand on his face, squishing his cheeks to make him form an adorable kissy face as you just hardly peck his lips. “peppermint.”

he licks his lips, taking as much as he can get from you for the time being. “yummy. can i have some more?”

satoru almost startles when you bring the festive lip balm to his lips, swiping it over his mouth in precise strokes. “sweeeets,” he whines, snatching the small tube from your hand to set it down on the dresser. “can’t i just have a little kiss? just one, honey, promise.”

you huff, shaking your head. “you’re telling me i just wasted two precious swipes of my lip balm on your lips when you didn’t even want any?”

"nuh-uh. wasted nothing, baby," he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. he then leans into you, his strong hands settling on your hips as he pulls you in just the same. "buuuut if you're so concerned about your precious chapstick..." he speaks, his nose brushing against your cheek. "why don't you come ‘n get it back?"

you hum in contemplation, bringing your thumb up to wipe away the moisture from his bottom lip. kissing with lip products on was messy enough as is, and truth be told, nothing about kissing satoru was clean. he kissed you like he wanted to devour you whole, like he was proposing to your lips with each nibble and lick.

“gimme a sec,” you murmur, accurately and thoroughly wiping away the gloss from his lips. he let you, too.

satoru’s lips part as you smudge away the gloss, his tongue darting out to catch a stray bit of the sweet and minty flavor. he wraps his lips around the pad of your thumb, suckling like the insatiable minx he is before you pull it away from his tongue.

"theeeere we go," he purrs. "all clean ‘n ready for my gorgeous wife.” he leans back against the edge of the dresser, spreading his legs slightly to expertly maneuver you to straddle his thighs.

his hands just barely slip beneath the fabric of your dress, thumbs rubbing circles onto your hip bones. "c’mere, baby," he whispers, his desperation on full display without a care in the world. "lemme show you what else these lips can do besides waste your lip balm."

and your self restraint slips away the moment your lips slot into his, his breath catching in his throat as if he hadn’t truly expected you to let him taste you. with the gift that you’ve just bestowed upon him, he slips his tongue into your mouth, a throaty groan omitting his throat.

shamelessly, his hands slide around the curve of your hips, firmly grasping onto your ass. he bucks his hips upward, pressing his hard bulge to your clothed cunt, a choked whimper leaving him as he begins to kiss his way down your throat.

“want my present a little early,” he murmurs, nipping at your collarbone before his wet tongue swipes out to soothe the sting. “please?”

you hum, lips parting as you begin to instinctively roll your hips back and forth along the imprint of his length. it was a heady feeling, knowing just how much you affected him, how much he yearns for every inch of you no matter the time nor the place. “but—”

all the while, he pulls at the neckline of your dress, tugging it down just enough to reveal one of your breasts. “mm,” he rumbles in reply, lips latching onto your nipple the moment he saw it. his tongue works around your areola, lathering your sensitive skin up with his saliva before pulling away with a wet pop. “pleeease? just the tip, baby. i won’t be greedy.”

his fingers are already blindly pulling down the zipper of your dress, watching with blown pupils as more and more of your smooth skin becomes his to see. to touch. to taste. to love. he isn’t sure if this is such a good idea, his dick already twitching in his pants just from the sight of his beautiful wife, but he can’t resist you. not now, not ever.

“o-okay,” you agree, a hand slipping into his soft locks of white hair as his talented mouth sucks on your neglected breast as if was revealed to him. “counts as half your gift then.”

satoru nods his head in understanding, rising from the stool with you in his arms. your dress falls from your body, pooling on the hardwood floor as he sets you down on the bed. he was out of his festive outfit just as fast as he’d gotten into it, the holly jolly clothing discarded messily on the floor.

his mouth presses open-mouthed kisses along the expanse of your torso. your breasts, your stomach, the curve of your waist, your hips, the mound of your pussy. your back arches into the sensation, hands grasping firmly onto his strong shoulders as he crawls over you.

fingers hooking beneath your underwear, he tugs the damp fabric down your legs, tossing them carelessly across the room. it’s then that his lovesick eyes rove over your skin, all bare and glistening from both your natural beauty and the slick of his saliva from kissing his way around your body.

“well, aren’t you just the most beautiful present a man could ask for,” he smiles, hands finding the back of your thighs as he pushes them up into your chest. propping himself up on one arm, he still nearly folds you in half by his weight pressing into you. his free hand guides his blushed tip to your drooling heat.

he drags the head of his cock along your folds, groaning at the feeling of his pre coating your already wet skin. “’m so lucky,” he whisers, another throaty moan escaping him the moment he pushes his tip inside of you.

your hands claw at his biceps, head falling back on the plush mattress. “no, i-i’m the lucky one,” you tell him, earning a choked chuckle in response.

satoru fucks you shallowly, keeping his promise of just the tip as he gazes down at you with such adoration that you’re surprised you haven’t exploded into pretty little hearts. “mmh— we can both be lucky,” he rasps, his free hand slipping between the two of you for his thumb to circle your clit.

your body responds so well to his touch, inner walls clenching down on the head of his dick. a soft mewl escapes your kiss bitten lips, clutching particular hard onto his arm once he applies a heavy finger to your swollen nub. “j-just another inch,” you suggest, flashing him a wry smile.

he was quick to nod, returning your grin. “mhmm, was thinking the same thing. such a smart girl you are, readin’ my mind like that.”

it was a shock to no one as one more inch turned to two, then three, four, five, six… all up until he was balls deep inside of your dripping cunt, thrusting into you like a madman who’s head was entirely occupied by thoughts of his beloved wife and her perfect pussy.

satoru promised not to be greedy, but you both knew he was anything but when it came to you. like a moth to a flame, he was forever longing for you, his wife, in any way he could have you.

folded into a mating press, your velvety walls shift to accommodate him. the wet sounds of your cunt sounding in the air with each heavy rock of his hips that nudges his cock impossibly deeper inside of you, making you feel like you’re floating and seeing stars just the same.

“fuuuuck,” he drawls, hands planted firmly on the back of your thighs as he keeps you nice and open for him. his hips drive into you with passion, his skin slapping against yours with each movement he makes, filling the room with sounds of your shared pleasure. “takin’ me so well, doin’ so damn good. made just for me, baby.”

your eyes slip shut as you cry out, pussy clenching down on him like a vice, proving to the both of you that you truly were made for each other. “kiss me,” you pant, hands reaching for his face to tug him down to you.

and satoru has never been one to deny his pretty little wife anything she desires, his lips crashing into yours as you swallow up his sounds of overwhelming pleasure. it’s all teeth and tongue, saliva coating your lips as your nails dig into his face, holding him in place as his cock drags in and out of you.

you taste him on your tongue, just as he does with you, the tingling sensation lingering on your tastebuds leaving you absolutely dumb and needy for your husband. he reaches for your left hand, lacing your fingers together while his other cups your cheek, breaking the kiss to rest his forehead on yours.

“tell me what your—hah—real christmas wish is, baby,” he teases, nipping at your bottom lip with his pearly white teeth.

you whine, back arching off the bed as his cock hits your sweet spot just right. vision blurry and clouded by your adoration for your husband, you kiss him as you whisper your answer. “you.”

eyes widening in surprise, a goofy grin stretches across his handsome face. “you really are in luck, sweets. i can give ya juuust that.”

and then, his strokes slow, opting for a more languid approach to making love to you as you both begin to approach your climaxes. moans, whines, kisses, teary eyes—between each and every exchange between the two of you, one thing remains constant.

your love.

it doesn’t take long for you to find your release, an airy cry fleeting into the room as a thick ring of cream coats his cock. spurred on by bringing you so much pleasure, satoru kisses your cheek. your forehead. your nose. your eyebrow. your lips.

and with a few more thrusts, he bottoms out inside of you, stuffing you full to the brim with both his cock and his seed. sticky and warm, the substance leaking out of you serving as a physical embodiment of how much he loves you. how much he loves making love to you.

pulling back with a breathless smile, satoru kisses you once more. “y’know… maybe i should’ve kept the suit on. didn’t know my pretty little wife had a thing for mr. claus.”

rolling your eyes, you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close as you whisper in his ear. “…mhm. go clean up and get dressed, satoru. i made you get ready an hour early just to make sure we had enough time.”

“…psh. c’moooon, baby, are you serious?”

★ toji fushiguro — the grinch.

“ow. ya got that shit in my eye,” he grumbles, glaring up you like you had just punched him in the face.

you giggle, shaking your head as you pick up a tinier makeup brush, swiping it around his mouth to create the illusion of the makeup look that you’re currently working on—using none other than your husband as the canvas. the color green covers his entire face, an even darker shade contouring the minuscule details of the grinch’s face.

“isn’t funny,” he grumbles once more, slumping his shoulders. though, he doesn’t stand up from the edge of the bed, nor does he attempt to jerk his head away at any point.

it’s in that moment that toji realizes just how soft he’s become for you. never in his life would he ever imagine that he’d be here, sitting at the edge of his shared bed with his wife standing between his parted legs, doing his makeup to make him look like her favorite holiday character.

not to mention, you have him wearing a fuzzy headband to push his dark locks of hair out of his face. a fuzzy. headband. there’s cute little reindeer antlers on it too, making him look even more adorable than he’d like to. he was such a goner, far too in love with you to put up any kind of real protest.

you work with your tongue poking out between your lips, brow furrowed in concentration as you apply a bit of green eyeliner to his lips—using it as lip liner instead. “hold still, babe! hold still!”

“this shit tastes like sewer water. are ya almost done?”

“well, you aren’t exactly supposed to lick it. wait— how do you know what sewer water tastes like?”

and to that, you don’t get an actual explanation. instead, you receive a smack on your ass and a firm squeeze from the man sitting in front of you. “mind y’er business, woman.”

minding your business is exactly what you do, returning to your task of finishing up the makeup look to the best of your ability with a wide, beaming smile on your pretty face. toji will never live this down, he’s sure of it, but getting to see that smile of yours was more than enough justification for this entire experience.

“aaaaand…” you sing, reaching for a nearby hand mirror. you spin it around, showing him the finish product. “finished! do you like it?”

toji can’t help his facial expression as it contorts in horror, his jaw slacking while his eyes nearly bulge out of his head. his gaze flits up to you, his hands on your hips giving them a firm squeeze. “tell me this comes off, doll.”

you pout, visibly deflating as you hear his reaction. it wasn’t that you weren’t expecting it, because you absolutely were, but you had a habit of guilt tripping him. how else could you have convinced him to let you do his makeup in the first place? think smarter, not harder.

“it comes off,” you confirm, putting down the mirror on your vanity desk. you place your hands on his shoulders, sighing heavily as you shake your head. “soooo… can i get a pic before we go?”

“no.” toji was already in a piss poor mood after agreeing to go to your company’s annual christmas party, especially now that you made him dress up and actually follow the theme for the event.

you sigh, dropping your head onto his shoulder. “fiiine. you’re such a party pooper.”

he has no problem with that. at least there won’t be any physical evidence of this ordeal that you’ve dragged him into. he watches with narrowed eyes as you maneuver around the room, dressed up as ‘martha may’ or whoever the fuck from the movie ‘how the grinch stole christmas’. you looked sexy, per usual, but he was more so concerned with making sure that you stuffed makeup wipes into your purse.

that was your one agreement—you’d have to let him take it off whenever he wanted to. boring, you think, but understandable.

as much as you wanted to think that toji would indulge you just for a little while, the second the two of you pulled into the parking lot of your workplace, he was already digging into your purse to find the makeup wipes.

“toji!” you scold, attempting to reason with him. “c’moooon, babe. everybody’s dressing up, it’s not just us!”

“doooon’t care,” he mumbles, fishing out the package. he then turns to you, catching a glimpse of your pouty expression. bottom lip tugged downward, eyes soft and full of hope. fuck, it tugged on his heartstrings and you knew it. “damn it, woman. don’t look at me like that.”

you lean over the center console of the car, placing a hand on his bicep. toji relents, tipping his head back as he groans aloud. “fine, fine. you can take a picture before i wipe this mess off.”

one picture turned into many, all of which were different poses and expressions that you forced toji to do just for you. kissy faces, his tongue sticking out, holding up a peace sign… yeah, you’re definitely using those against him. but hey, he probably won’t mind. he loves you too much.

by the time the two of you finally make it into the party, you notice the immediate scowl that sets into his handsome features. his jaw was tense, his eyes narrowed, and he made sure to have a hand hooked around your waist at all times. a bit possessive, you think, but maybe he’s just trying to make sure that you don’t manage to find another grinch on this christmas eve.

“fix your face, toji,” you quip, patting his cheek with your palm. you pucker your lips, silently asking for a kiss, to which he indulges you with yet another grumble.

he leans dips his head, nuzzling into your neck with a soft growl. “for you, baby, i’ll suffer through it. just don’t expect me to enjoy myself.”

his hand slides up your side, fingertips grazing the underside of your breast through the fabric of your little festive dress. he lingers there, thumb brushing over your nipple in tease. “but i’d much rather be somewhere private with ya, y’know... tearin’ that pretty dress off and buryin’ my face between your legs ‘til—“

you gasp, lightly swatting his hand. if that weren’t enough, the vulgarity of his words are enough to make your face heat up, your gaze flickering away from your husband to see if anyone else in the event had been watching you closely enough.

“toji!” you scold in a whisper yell, snapping your gaze back in his direction. “you know you can’t talk to me like that in public, especially not here.”

toji chuckles lowly, clearly unrepentant. "what’d i do? ‘m just makin’ conversation.” he leans in even closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks. "bet you're nice ‘n wet just thinkin’ about me eating that sweet pussy of yours. want me to bend you over the table right here ‘n show everyone what a needy girl you are f’r me?"

you swat his hand away once again, smoothing the fabric of your dress over as if his touch hadn’t been there at all. you catch the eye of a group of your colleagues, giving them a wave and a polite smile before you turn back to your husband, your expression faltering.

“i’m the needy girl, but you are the one who can’t keep his hands to himself,” you retort, raising a brow at him. “hm. good try, honey. i’m going to go speak with my colleagues over there. you’re more than welcome to join me.”

toji scoffs, rolling his eyes. "yeah, yeah, i'll be a good boy ‘n play nice." he scoffs under his breath, but follows you over to your coworkers nonetheless.

as you chat with them, he stands slightly behind you, one hand resting possessively on your lower back. every so often, his fingers dip under the hem of your dress, brushing against the bare skin there. shameless, he is.

"so," one of your male coworkers says to you, leaning in a bit too close for toji’s liking. "looking gorgeous tonight. where’s the lucky husband?"

toji supposed this is his fault, having never attended one of these events alongside you before, but was this guy fucking dumb? who else would be all over you like he is right now unless he was your husband?

his hand tightens on your hip, pulling you slightly against his chest. "you blind? where else would i be?" he asks, voice deceptively calm.

the coworker holds up his hands in a placating gesture. "hey, hey, no problem, man. just admiring the view, you know how it is. can't blame a guy for looking, right?"

"nah, i don’t get it. fuck is y’er problem?" he growls, attempting to step around you and get to the man.

“toji!” you murmur, pressing back against him to keep him at a safe distance. you nearly forgot how quick his temper could rise considering that you rarely saw it yourself.

your coworker's face pales, stammering out an apology before scurrying away. toji watches him go, then he turns to you, eyes softening. "let's get outta here, yeah?" he says, offering his arm. "i've had enough of this. gonna take you somewhere i can put my hands on ya without getting you fired."

he guides you towards the exit, hand resting on your hip while you lean into his side. once outside, he opens the car door, not so gently helping you into the driver’s seat. "i’d be mad too," he murmurs, laying a smack on your ass as he makes his way over to the passenger side. "if i saw ya goin’ home with another man, i’d be tryin’ to enter a dick measurin’ competition too.”

a strong hand cups your sex through your panties, fingers rubbing slow, tight circles. "mm. can’t wait to taste her." he captures your lips in a searing kiss, tongue delving deep to claim every inch of your mouth. "c’mon… let's go home so i can get ya out of this dress and show you just how much i appreciate you. ‘n hey… maybe if you're really good, i'll let ya ride my face 'til y’er screaming."

you roll your eyes with a chuckle as you tug her dress back down to its proper length. “you beg me to ride your face as is,” you joke, even though it’s most certainly true.

toji was insatiable, and he would (and has) eat your pussy for hours if given the chance. you haven’t ever had to ask him for it, and you probably never will.

just as you reach to stick the key in the ignition, toji grabs your keys from your hand, holding them up with a smirk. "ah ah ah, not so fast." he crowds you, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck while his other hand slides beneath the fabric of your dress, fingers grazing your panties

"y’know the rules, doll. no ridin’ my face 'til you prove how much you want it." he leans in close, teeth grazing your earlobe. "so. why don't you lean on over ‘n show me that pretty mouth of yours?”

you raise your brows, glancing around the parking lot in a frenzy. “but— toji, we can’t.” you blink a few times before you pull back just enough to find his eyes once more. “what if someone sees?”

toji snickers, eyes glinting with mischief and lust. love, too, of course— but he’s too busy being a hard ass to act on it. "let 'em see. let the whole damn world watch as my sexy little wife sucks my cock." he tugs your wrist, pressing your palm against the large bulge in his pants. "feel that? feel how hard you make me? i need y’er mouth on me, baby. now." his other hand gently slides into your hair, though he grips tightly as he guides your head down. "open wide, doll. show me what a good girl you can be."

you don’t protest as he guides you down, mouthing at the bulge in his pants while you both work to pull them down. your heart is beating out of your chest, nerves aching from the stress of potentially being caught by sucking your husband’s dick in the parking lot one of your work colleagues. “no need to be so rough with me,” you playfully scold, shaking your head as you work to undo his belt. “insatiable, you are.”

toji grunts as you fumble with his belt, hips rocking forward impatiently. "quit stallin’ ‘n suck my dick already."

when you finally free his cock, it springs out, already hard and leaking. he fists a hand in your hair, guiding your mouth to his tip. "fuck, your lips feel s’good wrapped around me. so perfect." he thrusts upward shallowly, letting you adjust to his size before pushing deeper. his other hand grips the side of the car, the material creaking under his strength. "thaaat’s it, take it all. gonna fuck this pretty mouth 'til ya choke on it."

toji throws his head back with a groan as your throat constricts around him. his abdomen tenses up, both of his hands working to tug your hair up into a makeshift ponytail. "yeah, jus’ like that. take it deep, baby, there ya go." he sets a brutal pace, hips snapping forward as he fucks your face. spit drips down your chin, your nose pressed against his pelvis with every thrust. "shit, ’m gonna cum already," he pants, fingers tightening in your hair. you made him feel like a virgin each and every time you went down on him. “swallow it."

with a final, hard thrust, he buries himself in your mouth and lets go. "shit," he grunts, cock pulsing as he shoots his load directly down your throat. he holds you in place, forcing you to swallow around him. not that you would pull away. breathing hard, he lets up on you. he tucks himself back into his pants with a sated smile. "now thaaat's what i call a earnin’ it, baby. c’mon, let's get home so i can return the favor."

you roll your eyes, snatching your keys back from his grasp. you wipe your face with the back of your hand, intentionally slapping dangerously close to his crotch as you sit up, earning a yelp of warning. “you’re a real jerk, toji,” you scoff, sticking the key into the ignition.

toji chuckles as he properly settles into the passenger seat, sprawling out lazily as if he owned the vehicle. "yeeeah, yeah, i know. but you love me anyway." he reaches over, hand sliding up your thigh as you begin to drive. "besides. i'm the one who has to deal with all these assholes pervin’ on what's mine, some road head is just… a little reassurance." his fingers creep higher, teasing along the edge of your panties. "get us home quick, doll. my dick’s gettin’ hard again."

the car swerves slightly as your breath hitches, his touch igniting the ever-present spark of desire between you. toji simply grins, clearly pleased with the effect he has on you. you just roll your eyes at his words, resting your elbow on the windowsill of the car, your temple resting on your closed fist.

you swat his hand as his fingers brush against the damp spot of your panties, sliding his hand back down to a more appropriate position on your thigh. “as if. you can wait.”

toji scowls, clearly displeased with being denied. "tch, fine. be that way." he withdraws his hand entirely, folding his arms across his chest with a huff. his eyes drift shut, long lashes fanning out against his cheeks. he tries to act upset, but within moments, his hand is already settling back onto your thigh.

you glance over at him as you drive, taking in the peaceful lines of his face. even in sleep, he looks intimidating, his features sharp and angular. but there's a softness to him too, a vulnerability that only you get to see. a simplicity that’s reserved only for you.

when you pull into the driveway of your shared home, you reach over and shakes his shoulder gently. "hey, honey. we're home."

toji stirs, blinking blearily as he takes in the familiar surroundings of their driveway. he stretches languidly, the movement causing his shirt to ride up and expose a peek of toned abs. "mmm, already? thought you'd make me wait longer as punishment for the whole 'road head' thing." he hums, pecking your cheek before he exits the car.

he rounds the vehicle to open your door for you, ever the gentleman despite his earlier crudeness. as you slide out, he pulls you against his chest, one hand sliding possessively down to grip your ass. "let's get inside. 'm still hard as a rock and need to be buried in that sweet pussy of yours soon enough.”

without waiting for a response, he scoops you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style towards the house. his lips find your neck, peppering ticklish kisses along the soft planes of your skin. you drape an arm around his shoulders as he carries you, squirming with a soft giggle as he sinks his teeth into your neck. it hardly hurts, more so tickles, and the crinkled lines around your eyes and the wide smile you wear communicates that.

“put me down! ‘m still mad at you,” you very weakly protest.

toji chuckles, the sound vibrating against your skin as he continues to carry you. "nah. i like havin’ you in my arms like this. makes me feel all caveman-y and shit." he kicks the front door shut behind him, still not putting you down. instead, he starts walking towards the bedroom, his steps intentful. "beeeesides, i wanna lay you out on the bed ‘n taste every inch of you. can’t do that if y’er standin’ up."

he lays you down gently on the mattress, crawling over you with a mischievous gleam in his eye. "now, where were we? oh right, i believe i promised to eat this pretty pussy 'til ya scream."

★ suguru geto — ribbons in his hair.

“ta-da!” you sing, spinning your boyfriend around in the mirror to view the product of your christmas makeover.

suguru stood dumbfounded. his dark locks of hair were tied up in a disorganized fashion, silky red ribbons separating the sections ever so messily. “i don’t mean to offend you, sweetheart, but… this took you thirty minutes to do?”

you peek out from behind him, staring into the mirror as a pout tugs on your bottom lip. “you don’t like it?” you ask, purposefully putting on a softer tone of voice, staring at him with those wide puppy dog eyes of yours that he still can’t resist to this day.

“no! no, baby, that’s… not…” he trails, eyes flitting back up to his reflection in the mirror. did it truly look that bad? no… yes… shit. he flashes you a wide smile, reaching behind him to tug your frame forward. he presses a kiss on your forehead. “i love it so much. thank you, sweetheart.”

was lying to his girlfriend a good idea? no, never. but sometimes, suguru reasons, lying is necessary to keep his beautiful girl happy. you were so excited to do this with him, purchasing you both matching christmas pajamas with little christmas trees and reindeers on the fabric.

not to mention, you had planned such a cozy night for the two of you. building gingerbread houses, baking cookies, cozying up on the couch as the two of you watch your favorite holiday movies…

and so, he kisses your cheek, smiling to himself as he watches your pupils dilate. when you wrap your arms around his neck, luring him in for a proper kiss, he’s silently thankful that you won’t be questioning him any further about your not-so-great handiwork in his hair.

“i know it looks horrible, suguru,” you say into his mouth, a warm chuckle following your words. you pull back, rising up onto your toes to plant a kiss on his nose. silently, you make a note to redo this next year and make him dress up as rudolph the red-nose reindeer. externally, however, you grin. “but you passed my test, baby. just like i knew you would.”

he exhales in relief, his forehead falling until it pressed against yours. “phew. i was worried you’d make me wear these things in my hair for the rest of the night.”

you laugh once more, a hand slipping into his messily styled hair. “oh, no, i have other plans for you tonight,” you whisper, giving one of the ribbons a cute twirl around your finger.

unabashedly, he moans at the mere feeling of your fingers in his hair, just as he had been before as you tugged and tied the satin fabric around his dark locks. it relaxed him, but more than anything, it turned him on. immensely.

and for the first time during this entire process, the moment your stomach brushes against him, suguru realizes that he’s hard. rock hard. so hard that it almost hurts, his cock stiff beneath the soft fabric of his pajama pants and silently begging for relief.

“was this your plan all along?” he asks, his voice taking on a low and husky tone that leaves your skin babbling with goosebumps. “to rile me up with your games? tch. how cruel, sweetheart, even for you.”

and you’re smiling at his words, brushing both of your hands through his hair once more until you earn another needy groan in response. satisfied, you tug a single ribbon loose, watching as a section of his hair sways over his shoulder.

dangling the red ribbon in front of his face, you beam. “well, you can always get your payback… using these.” you can practically see the light bulb going off in his pretty head, his lips twitching into a smirk as he places a hand on the small of your back.

always so gentle. that was how you would usually describe your boyfriend to the outside world, and judging by what they’d know of him, they would likely agree. but when it was just the two of you, alone and in the privacy of your home, those words couldn’t have been less true.

you’re undressed before you can even process the cool air brushing along your soft skin, and you’re thrown onto your bed just as quickly. bouncing on the mattress, you look up at him, pupils stretched wide with passion.

“lean back for me,” he instructs, and you listen, flattening onto the plush mattress with your eyes still glued to his face. “thaaat’s it, beautiful. get nice ‘n comfy.”

his words were sugary and sweet, saccharine with the overwhelming taste of lust intruding on his words. he rolls you over, taking your wrists into one of his large hands as he works to tie one of the ribbons around them. although you’re immobilized, you can’t remember the last time you felt so antsy, so excited.

“you look so pretty,” he coos, running his calloused hands down the smooth expanse of your sides. he reaches down, pulling your soft strands of hair away from your face as you glance at him. with a smile, he kisses your lips, the touch soft and sweet… all up until he pushes your head back into the mattress.

suguru straightens up, pulling another one of the ribbons loose from his hair. he decides to tie this one around your ankles, keeping you nice and tied up. with his hair now pulled half-up by a single ribbon, he decides that he’ll keep that one in, let you see your handiwork while he fucks you stupid. he’ll let it remind you of how you found yourself in this situation in the first place.

hooking his hands beneath your hips, he pulls your ass into the air, leaving you arched and vulnerable—all for his eyes to see. he groans, lowering himself just enough to press a kiss on your damp clit. “mm,” he mumbles into your heat, long tongue lolling out of his mouth to properly taste your slick. “you taste so good, baby. do me a favor, yeah?”

you nod, turning your head to the side as if you were looking at him. you can’t see him, but you can feel him, and that’s almost better in your book. “mhm… anything.”

and then you feel a sharp slap on your ass, soothed by none other than his warm hand rubbing over your reddening skin. “move.” confusion riddled your mind for a brief moment until you felt his tongue press against your pussy once more, curling it ever so slightly to encourage you to move.

a whimper falls from your lips as you begin to rock your hips in messy motions—circles, grinds, thrusts—your movements had no logic to them. not that either of you minded, his tongue flattening against your cunt as you buck yourself against his face.

“mmhm,” he hums in affirmation, laying another smack on your ass cheek. “use my tongue, princess. don’t try ‘n stop until you come on it, got it?”

panting heavily and moving with no other means aside from chasing your own orgasm, you nod your head feverishly once more. “g-got it.” though, with the way your hips begin to stutter, your movements growing more sloppier than before, suguru is lead to believe that you truly don’t get it.

no matter, he has plenty of time to make sure that you understand. his first step is to make you fall apart with his tongue alone.

“i know you can do better than that, sweetheart,” he mocks, pressing his face even further into your heat, his wet tongue lapping at you from behind while your weak motions begin to grow much more purposeful. “mm… there ya go, baby. keep goin’, get yourself niiiice ‘n ready for me.”

you swivel your hips in the best way you can, drawing out moans from both yourself and suguru. he marvels at how talented your fucking hips are, throwing yourself back onto his face just like he’d asked you to. “mhm, good girl,” he praises, running his hands along your thighs. “such a good girl for me.”

as your entire body begins to tremble, you cry out, eyes pricking with tears as you continue to chase your impending release. “s-suguru!” you whine, drool leaking down your lip. “i-i’m—”

you don’t have the time to get your warning out before your orgasm crashes over you in such intense waves, your candied release coating his tongue as he eagerly laps at your heat, cleaning you up willingly. and then you slump forward, boneless and exhausted, sweat making your hair stick to your forehead as you glance at him over your shoulder.

“very good, baby, gimme a kiss,” he whispers, leaning down to press a kiss onto your lips. you whine into his mouth, wrists squirming within the tightly wrapped ribbon. suguru firmly grasps onto the place where your hands are joined. “no. you were bein’ so good, baby. don’t wanna be a brat now, do ya?”

to that, you shake your head, stilling the movement of your wrists. you can hear the sound of shuffling behind you, though your suspicions are confirmed once you feel the angry red tip of his cock brush against your ass.

“ooh, my girl is jumpy tonight,” he teases, placing a firm hand on your hip to prevent your squirming. “don’t move a muscle, sweetheart. i got ya.”

when you feel his weight settle on top of you, your back arches into him, earning you a strong arm wrapped around your neck. suguru messily kisses your cheek, open-mouthed and full of passion. all the while, he presses the head is his cock to your entrance.

“tell me what you want,” he says. you can practically hear the grin on his face as he speaks to you, but you can hardly find it within yourself to care once you feel his fat tip brush against you. “‘n say please.”

you move your hips, attempting to get his tip to catch your slippery hole just right. “fuck me,” you say, turning your head to make eye contact with him. pupils as wide as saucers, lips bit by his kisses, face lazily putting on a smile. “please.”

suguru already has a hard time saying no to you as is, but when you look like this? so beautiful and pliant, giving yourself to him and only him? he’s a goner and he knows it.

“so polite,” he rasps, kissing your cheek once more before he bullies his way inside of you. his cock pistons into your entrance, and his bicep’s lock on your neck gives him the opportunity to plow into you just how he wants to.

and you’re in no place to protest, not that you ever would. you can feel him stretching you out, the way his tip kisses your cervix with each brutal thrust of his hips, the way your entire body jolts in correspondence with his movements.

suguru was so strong. so brutal with the way he fucks you, so mean and rough. but with the way he kisses your cheek, your lips, your jaw, whispering soft ‘doin’ so good, baby’s and ‘so pretty’s in your ear—you remember why you fell for his gentleness before you knew anything else about him.

you’re inclined to believe that fucking and making love are two different things, far and wide apart in the eyes of an average person. but with suguru, with your love, you heartily disagree with them. with him, you get both. you get everything.

skin against skin, moans filtering through the room, sloppy kisses exchanged. you two were a mess, but you were each other’s mess, so entwined in a way that only you could be.

“gonna cum, baby,” he says into your mouth, kissing the corner of your lips. “fuck, need you to cum with me. can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

you nod, biting down on your bottom lip as you feel a boiling heat coiling in your lower stomach. “yes!” you cry out, dropping your head to sink your teeth into his bicep, muffling your moans.

the pain hardly phases him, his pace as unrelenting as it was before, if not even more so. “now,” he rasps, burying himself balls deep as he fills you up with his thick seed. left unsure of where your orgasm ended and his began, or if you got the order wrong entirely, you can’t find it in you to care about it.

resting your head on his bicep, suguru presses a kiss on your cheek once more. he runs a hand down your side, slowly rolling you over so that he can look at you.

smiling ever so softly, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “let’s clean up, princess. i’ll wash you up real nice before we watch another movie. i bought a gingerbread scented candle just for my girl. some hot chocolate, too.”

…what? you weren’t the only one who could plan holiday festivities…

★ kento nanami — ugly sweater.

kento tried his hardest to be a good sport. he truly, truly did. but even he can only take so much, and his gorgeous wife asking him to wear a god awful holiday sweater was very quickly pushing him to his limits.

he wasn’t even sure why you’d chosen this one specifically. the wording was fine, feliz navidad it read, but the material was littered with christmas trees and tiny ornaments for the occasion. reindeers flying across his chest, snowflakes sewn into the garment. he stood in the mirror, face contorted in unease as he stares at the design. despite his silent disdain for the item, he hadn’t outwardly complained. how could he? you were so excited to wear these ugly things for your first christmas as a married couple!

and so, kento decided he’d stick it out. such the trooper he was, wearing this hideous garment to please you.

“honey?” he calls out to you, glancing around once he realizes he hasn’t seen you in a while. he can hear you distantly, the sound of rattling coming from the en suite. you were likely doing your makeup, very angrily in fashion. “hon—”

“we can’t go, kento!” you exclaim, storming out of the bathroom with your hair half-styled and only the base of your makeup completed. “i’m having a horrible… everything day. i can’t have your coworkers seeing me like this, they’ll think your wife is chopped.”

kento raises an eyebrow, his confusion evident. “chopped? i don’t particularly know what that means, but judging by your comment, i’ll go ahead and assume it isn’t a good thing.” he takes a few steps closer to you, large hands planting firmly on your hips. “and if that is the case, you don’t fit that description. not at all.”

he raises a hand, brushing it over the back of your head. careful not to mess up your hair, he cups the back of your head, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “i’m not exactly thrilled about attending my company’s christmas party either. we don’t have to go, but if you don’t want to attend on the basis of not feeling good about yourself, i won’t have that. you’re far too beautiful.”

you hum, shoulders slumping forward as you stare into his soft eyes. “i know, i know. i just…” and before you can finish your sentence, kento presses a kiss on the corner of your mouth, gently guiding you back onto the edge of the bed.

“i hear you, sweetheart. we all have our days,” he whispers, smoothing his hands over the material of your christmas sweater, reading it silently to himself. christmas cookies in the oven. hm. interesting choice, but you’re an interesting woman after all. his interesting woman. “let me love on you. make you feel a little better.”

and who are you to deny him? your husband is simply too sweet, too attentive and caring. if he wants to have you, you’d never deny him.

kento’s hands slide up your thighs, hooking your legs around his hips as he works to settle on top of you. his lips find your neck, kissing and nibbling on your sweet skin, a trail of heat slipping down your throat and across your collarbones. “lift your arms,” he gently commands, pushing your sweater up and over your head. you hadn’t finished getting dressed yet, only left wearing your panties now, which made his job easier.

he kisses his way down your body, his intention set on soothing any worries that you may be feeling. your neck, your breasts, your stomach, your inner thighs—his lips touch anywhere and everywhere. “spread your legs, baby, there you go,” he whispers, helping you open wide for him. discarding the fabric of your underwear, he delves into your pussy with a sense of reverence.

alternating between long, languid strokes and quick flicks of his tongue, he does his absolute best to ease your mind and make your thoughts consistent of him and his love for you. “eyes on me, honey,” he says into your heat, softened gaze meeting yours. “hey, beautiful.”

drawing out long moans of pleasure, whimpers and whines, all from that beautiful mouth of yours. it makes kento feel accomplished in his goal, his hands grasping onto your thighs to keep your cunt nice and close to his mouth.

“mmh, ken,” you whisper, voice low and breathy. back arching from the mattress, your hands slip into his hair, roughing up his neatly styled locks. not that he minds, as long as you believe he looks good then that’s all he truly cares about. “please, more. i want more.”

and he’s quick to give into your request, pulling his sweater up and over his head before tossing it to the side. slipping out of his pants and boxers, he kicks them away, crawling back on top of you with a strong arm bracing him beside your head.

“hold onto me, baby,” he suggests, and you do, wrapping your arms around his neck as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. “mm, good girl. gonna make all of those thoughts fade away, promise.”

your breath catches in your throat the moment you feel his cock slowly nudging inside of you, splitting you open with a big stretch. “ken—” you whine, nails digging into the strong muscles of his back.

“i know, honey, i know,” he whispers in your ear, stilling his movements to give you a long moment to adjust to the stretch of him inside of you. once your nails ease up, opting to merely hold him instead, kento takes that as a sign of you being ready.

his movements are still slow at first, easy rolls of his hips to fuck you long and deep, letting you feel every inch of him. one of his hands cups your cheek while the other keeps him propped up over you, reminding himself to not crush you with his weight.

“good job, sweetheart,” he pants, picking up the pace of his hips according to the sounds that he manages to lure out of you. “there she is. feeling alright, baby?”

you nod, one of your hands slipping into his blonde locks of hair while the other digs into the hard muscles of his shoulders. “y-yes,” you breathe, clenching around him like a vice. “feels so good, don’t stop. don’t stop.”

kento has no plans of stopping, not until you’re satisfied and fully content with his performance. truth be told, you’re more than satisfied, velvety walls grabbing onto him with each and every stroke of his cock.

“you’re so pretty,” he whispers, kissing your skin. your cheek to your jaw to your neck, his plush lips brushing against you in time with each snap of his hips. “so beautiful, baby. i-i love you so much.”

with you clinging onto him like a baby koala, arms and legs wrapped around him so tightly, holding him close to you as he drives his length in and out of your wet heat, kento is quickly realizing that he won’t be lasting as long as he hoped.

more than determined to make you satisfied, his hand on your cheek slips between the two of your bodies, his fat thumb circling your puffy clit in tight circles. in turn, he feels you tense up, breathy moans of pleasure slipping from your swollen lips. he swallows them up with his own, kissing you messily as his ministrations drive you further and further to the brink of release.

and when your back arches from the bed, he slips an arm beneath the small of your back, leaning down to latch onto one of your breasts to treat you with as much stimulation as possible. “it’s too much,” you whine, clawing into his back, leaving angry red welts in your wake.

“you can take it,” he assures you, pressing a final kiss to your nipple before he leans over, lavishing your neglected breast with the same treatment. “mhm, doing so well. always do.”

you’re not sure if kento realizes just how good he is to you. how big he is, how strong, how talented. and he was all yours—giving himself to you entirely. you were his first and he’s more than determined to have you as his last, his everything for the rest of his life. to him, that starts with keeping you satisfied, in more ways than one.

“i’m close,” you warn, tilting your head back on the bed as a soft whimper escapes you. body trembling from the stimulation, legs constricting around him like a snake ready to attack, you feel the very moment your body teeters over the edge. “ken!” you cry.

he nods his head, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek as he feels you find your release on his cock, coating him with your candied essence that serves as his reward for treating you so well.

“i’ve got you, honey,” he whispers, a low throaty groan following his words. “i’ve got you.”

it doesn’t take long for him to catch up to you, his pace staggering as he chases his own orgasm. tensing up inside of you, you feel the way his seed floods inside of your inner channels, filling you up with the warm proof of his love and attraction for you.

for a few long movements, you hold each other close, breathing heavily into each other’s skin. stolen kisses, small smiles, and watery eyes. your hand raises, cupping his cheek while you press a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“can i ask you something?” you ask, smiling up at him.

“sure you can,” he replies, laying a soft peck to your lips.

“did you read the christmas sweater i got for you?”

kento nods, brows knitting in confusion. “yes, i did. why do you ask?”

“i just think the hidden meaning flew right over that handsome head of yours. it says feliz navi-dad.”

“…oh my.”

oh, it’s a christmas miracle!

note. don’t look at me… this came out way too late bc i spend too much time sleeping and scrolling jjk memes on pinterest. can i get a life? obviously NOT bc i just wrote 9k words of pure smut about 4 (four.) FICTIONAL MEN!!!! if you read this and enjoyed thank you <3 love ya for life. merry christmas 🎄

[minniesmutt]

✧ ━━━ CHOKEHOLD ✧ ━━━ CW: CORSET, ORAL SEX (F.REC), FINGERING, DOM(?)!FELIX, UNPROTECTED SEX, SCRATCHING, G-SPOT STIMULATION, MULTIPLE ORGASMS, CREAM PIE, ✧ ━━━ WC: 1.8K

     There wasn’t always a war between the Solar and Lunar Kingdoms. Disagreements and minor issues here and there, yes. But only in the last few years did Y/n’s father— the king of the Lunar Kingdom—deem the Solar Kingdom their enemy. She remembered the night vividly.

     It was supposed to be a celebration in Spring court. One of two major territories that belonged to the Lunar Kingdom. It was the turn of the season. From winter to spring and all courts— Winter, Spring, Summer, Autumn— were in attendance along with Solar and Lunar Kingdoms. 

     Everything seemed fine the entire night. Dinner, socializing, and even dancing was fine. Or maybe she should have paid more attention. She was busy. It wasn’t often she got to see the fae she was fated to. 

     Between her responsibilities as princess and Felix’s responsibilities as prince and next in line for Solar’s throne, they didn’t see much of each other except at formal events like this. 

     “You look gorgeous tonight,” Felix complimented as he danced with her. Having just switched partners from Jisung — the Duke of Autumn court— to Felix. 

     “Thank you,” Y/n smiled 

     “Any word from your father on Solar’s proposal?” Felix questioned

     “No. I know he and my brother were discussing it. Don’t know what the outcome was.”

     Both heirs weren’t blind to the fact their kingdoms weren’t entirely friends. Resources were always the main fight between them. Last time Felix had visited Y/n— well her kingdom — on official business, he had mentioned to her that he proposed to his and her father and advisors that if the two heirs were to marry then the fighting would stop. Their realm could have peace.

     “Hopefully it’s a good one,” Felix asked

     “I hope so too. I’m tired of only seeing each other at events.”

     “We should make the most of it then.”

     The two royals made their way out of the ballroom and walked down the halls of Spring Manor. Finding themselves out in the back garden, moonlight bathing them and blooming the spring flowers as the winter flowers fell from their stems.

     “Do you think we should have told our families about our fates?” Felix asked

     “No, you know how my father is when anyone brings up fate,” Y/n responded

     “Yeah. Even if I barely pay attention.”

     “Because you distract easily.”

     “It’s easy to be distracted when you’re naked in my bed, princess.”

     “Then don’t ask me those questions, prince.”

     Felix smiled as he stood in front of her, stopping them from their walk and holding her hips, “Speaking of beds, is the Lunar princess staying in Spring Manor tonight?”

     “I am. I take it you are too?”

     “Indeed I am.”

     The two royals quickly made their way out of the garden, the south entrance of the manor closer and where her room was. The two quickly and quietly got to her room and locked the door. 

     Felix cupped her face in his hands and pressed his warm lips to hers. Y/n smiled against his lips as she held his waist, slowly walking back to the bed. The prince turned then and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her onto his lap.

     “Missed you,” Y/n whispered against his lips

     “Missed you too,” Felix mumbled, hands moving to undo the corset of her dress, slowly pulling the strings loose. 

     Y/n helped him pull her dress off before she stripped him of his suit. All materials of their formal wear falling to the floor or mattress behind them. Felix laid back with her on top before gently rolling her over, pinning her onto the mattress, and moving his lips down her neck and body

     “Lix,” Y/n whined

     “Been too long. Let me worship you for a while, princess.”

     Felix didn’t let her get another word, kissing further down her torso and pulling her legs over his shoulders. Pretty lips wrapping around her clit, gently sucking on the bud and flicking it with his tongue. Y/n moaned as he held her thighs tight. Not daring to move them from his shoulders. 

     “Lix,” Y/n moaned as her fingers tangled in his blond hair. The prince made a small noise below but didn’t let up, now on a mission.

     The prince took one hand off her thigh and slipped one finger into her. Y/n covered her mouth, hiding her moans from anybody who was maybe passing by. No one — except their advisors who handled their mail— knew the two royals were together. No one in Y/n’s family knew about her secret relationship with the prince of Solar. She just hoped her father would accept his marriage proposal and he could believe the relationship was his choosing. All she hoped was one day she’d wake up with Felix instead of cold beds after their rendezvous. 

     The princess bit her lips and tipped her head back as her walls clenched around his finger. Felix hummed to himself in contempt as he felt her squeeze his finger. Slipping another finger in her she begged for more which seemed to do the job. Walls pulsing around his fingers as he lapped at her clit. Groaning and holding her down with one hand as her hips rocked against his face. He held her and kept rubbing all the right spots before she came on his fingers. 

     Y/n arched her back against him as she rode out high before crashing against the mattress. Felix pulled away from her and cleaned off his fingers before hovering over her. Kissing her cheeks, “Feeling alright there princess?” he asked in his deep voice

     “Mhm,” Y/n nodded as a chill ran down her spine. There always was one when he spoke to her in his deepest voice

     “Does my needy princess need more or are you side for the night?” he asked her

     “More,” Y/n begged

     “You never need to beg. Just ask,” Felix reminded her as he sat back and wrapped her legs around his hips. Y/n looked down at the prince. Watching him push his blond hair out of his face and lined himself up at her entrance. Slowly pushing in and giving her as much time as she needed to get used to him again. 

     Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back to her. “Missed you,” Y/n whispered as he slowly pulled back and pushed in

     “I missed you too.” Felix pressed his lips to hers again. His arms moved under her body and held her close to him. Hips moved skillfully, capturing her moans in his mouth as she captured his. 

     “Take me back with you this time, please.” Y/n begged

     “I wish I could darling.” Felix groaned, hips picking up pace slightly.

     Y/n moaned as his tip just grazed that perfect spot inside her. “There! Right there Lix.”

     Felix acknowledged her words and shifted his position just a little to push further in and hit that spot inside her where she begged to be hit. Pushing her legs up just a bit more as well. His hands slid under her thighs to do so. The princess gasped when the position hit right where she needed him. Her hands moved down his back before her nails were crawling back up. Eliciting a deep groan from him and cursing under his breath.

     Y/n smiled to herself at his reaction before the thought left her head and focused back on how the prince was making her feel. Pushing her further into pleasure before her whole body was consumed with it. 

     “Fuck,” Felix groaned as she clenched around him, riding out her second orgasm.

     He waited until he felt her unclench and sink into the mattress before he sat up a bit more and pushed her legs down just a bit more, thrusting into her as fast as he could. Her moans and whines helping him get off quicker. Pushing deep into her and letting his cum paint her walls. 

     He gave himself a few seconds before pulling her legs down to pulled out of her. Felix gave her a quick kiss on her lips before making his way to the ensuite bathroom she had and grabbed a cloth to clean her up and then discarded it in the bathroom before climbing into the bed with her. Pulling the covers over them. 

     “I want to wake up like this,” Y/n grumbled as she wrapped her arms around the prince’s waist 

     “So do I darling,” Felix sighed and kissed the top of her head.

     Both knew they couldn’t. Who knows what would happen if someone found them in their position. 

     So many days they wished and wrote how they wanted to wake up next to the other. No more sneaking around. Felix himself was trying to do everything in his power to make that dream a reality. At this point, he didn’t care if it hurt him or he lost sleep— which he most certainly had— over it. 

     He would give anything in the realm to have her by his side. Even giving up his throne. 

     Y/n had paid so much attention to her lover that she had completely dismissed her family. She never saw her father talking to Felix’s father. Nor the building temper he had before leaving the ballroom. Now back home she watched soldiers in the courtyard prepare for war. Her father and brother in front of them. 

     “You got a letter,” Seungmin, her personal advisor, alerted her.

     “From him?” Y/n asked, grabbing the folded paper from his hands. Seeing Felix’s signature stamp. 

     “Why would I hand it straight to you otherwise?”

     She quickly read through the letter. Solar was preparing for war too. He would be heading Solar’s front with his advisor — Chan. Worry quickly building in her gut. She had overheard her father and brother talking about the future king leading the front line and she knew just how Minho fought. She’d seen him practice and heard how the guards spoke about his skills. 

     Scared for her lovers like she started forming the later in her head as she quickly walked to her room, Stringing following not far behind. 

     “I should warn you it’s going to be hard to get the letter out. Your fathers talking about refusing any mail in or out of the kingdom. Only allowing messages from allies?” Seungmin warned her 

      As far as she knew, the costs were still up in area about the war, almost refusing to pick a side. But she has overheard her brother and Jisung of Autumn court discussing troops to send from autumn court to the kingdom.

     “Fuck,” She cursed under her breath

     “Language, princess,” Seungmin teased her

     “I am not in the mood for the reading right now, Kim Seungmin,” Y/n warned him

     “Apologies.”

     “Do whatever you can to get my letters to Felix, understood? I don’t care if you're going behind my father and brothers back.”

     “Understood.”

✧ ━━━━━━ M.LIST  ✧  NEXT

✧ ━━━ please support writers by reblogging and/or leaving feedback

✧ ━━━ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: @staryflower @estella-novella @ninisoul-space @jeonginsleftcheek @kiralftv

@nimx9 @katsukis1wife @fackeraccount

© 2024 MINNIESMUTT. DO NOT COPY, REPUBLISH OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE

[leejenowrld]

falling for you

pairing — lee donghyuck x reader 

word count — 5.8k

genre — smut, explicit sexual content, rough sex, strangers to lovers. this is not proofread. 

synopsis — at a crowded christmas party, the air buzzing with laughter and music, you and donghyuck can’t stop locking eyes, the tension between you thick and impossible to ignore. it snaps when he grabs your hand, dragging you into a dark, empty room, the door clicking shut as he presses you hard against it. his breath is hot against your ear, his voice low and filthy as he murmurs all the things he’s been dying to do to you. his hands move with purpose, peeling away your clothes like wrapping paper, unwrapping you as though you’re the only gift he wants. the distant hum of the party fades as he fucks you with rough, desperate strokes, your moans swallowed by his mouth, the risk of being caught only making it hotter.

[fic ml]

The house reeked of spilled beer and sweat, the faint tang of weed curling through the air where the windows hadn’t been cracked open enough. The sharp, heady scent of cheap bourbon clung to sticky tabletops littered with solo cups, beer cans, and the occasional forgotten vape. Christmas lights were draped haphazardly across the bannisters, blinking erratically like they were moments from burning out, their warm glow catching on the glossy sheen of alcohol pooled in forgotten corners.

The music was loud enough to drown out most conversations—a heavy bassline shaking the floors and blending with the chaotic medley of overlapping laughter, flirtations, and half-shouted arguments. The living room was packed, bodies pressed together in a way that felt both suffocating and electric. Someone’s Santa hat had been abandoned on the couch, crushed beneath a pair of legs tangled in what was clearly the beginning—or middle—of something less than festive.

People spilled from the kitchen to the hallway, a constant churn of movement as groups rearranged, reconnected, or stumbled over each other in their drunken haze. The dining table had been turned into an improvised beer pong arena, cheers erupting every few minutes when someone managed to sink a cup. Somewhere in the background, someone was singing—badly, off-key, and completely oblivious to the fact that no one was paying attention.

You felt the weight of being new here, standing just on the edge of the chaos with a drink in hand that you weren’t entirely sure you’d wanted. Chaewon had disappeared almost immediately after dragging you through the front door, her gold dress shimmering as she threw herself into the crowd with a confidence you envied. You’d only moved to this college a few months ago, still fumbling through introductions and awkward smiles, and now you were at a party where you didn’t know a single person.

“Trust me, you’ll love it,” Chaewon had insisted earlier, shoving a glittery red crop top at you before you’d protested. She’d rolled her eyes and swapped it for a green velvet dress she’d been saving for herself. “Here, this’ll be even better on you. You shouldn’t be worried! This is college and Christmas, and everyone’s gonna be happy! You don’t need to stress about anything. Just… exist, and they’ll love you.”

Now, though, as you glanced around the party, you felt far from confident. You, on the other hand, felt like an imposter. The green velvet dress Chaewon had insisted you wear clung to you in ways that left you hyper-aware of every glance, the low neckline and teasing slit down one thigh feeling scandalous even in the dim, forgiving light. You couldn’t count the number of times you’d tugged at the fabric, only for Chaewon to swat your hands away with an exaggerated sigh.

“Stop it,” she’d said, swatting your arm as you’d fidgeted with the neckline before you walked out the door. “You look so fucking hot. I wish I could pull that off like you do.”

But now, as you sipped at your drink—some vaguely fruity, overly sweet concoction that burned faintly at the back of your throat—you couldn’t shake the feeling of sticking out. You shifted your weight from one heel to the other, scanning the room for Chaewon, but she was nowhere to be found.

Someone brushed past you, close enough that you felt the heat of their body as they slipped through the crowd, and your eyes darted to the bannisters where a guy was laughing too loudly, his arm draped over a girl who looked just as drunk as he was. Near the stereo, a couple was making out with reckless abandon, the music shifting to something bass-heavy and sultry as their hands roamed each other shamelessly.

It was messy. Unapologetically so. And you couldn’t decide if you hated it or if there was something strangely intoxicating about being surrounded by so much noise, so much life.

Chaewon hadn’t given you much choice. She’d shown up at your dorm hours earlier, her dress glittering like something out of a fairy tale, her energy relentless as she shoved the velvet emerald dress into your hands with a no-nonsense look. “If you don’t wear this,” she’d said, planting her hands on her hips, “I’m going to spend the entire party mourning your lack of holiday spirit instead of enjoying my drinks. Don’t ruin this for me.”

When you’d hesitated, she’d softened, taking a step closer to meet your eyes. “You shouldn’t be worried,” she said, her voice warmer now, persuasive. “This is college and Christmas, and everyone’s going to be happy. You don’t need to stress about anything. Just… exist, and they’ll love you.”

Now, here you were, the dress clinging to your every curve in a way that felt impossibly scandalous. The neckline dipped lower than you were used to, and the slit along your thigh seemed almost criminal with every step you took. You’d lost count of the times you’d tried to tug it into place, only for Chaewon to slap your hand away.

“You look like a fucking goddess,” she said for the hundredth time as she pulled you through the throng of bodies. Her hand was a vice around your wrist, steering you past clusters of people who greeted her like an old friend. Chaewon belonged in this kind of environment—bright and dazzling, magnetic in a way that drew attention without her even trying.

“I look like I’m trying too hard,” you muttered under your breath, but she ignored you, her energy buzzing as she pushed through the crowd.

“Stop sulking,” she said over her shoulder. “You’re about to have the time of your life.”

The bass-heavy music thudded through the walls, shaking loose strings of lights draped across the ceiling, the crowd moving like one fluid, writhing body. You were halfway through another sip of your drink, the too-sweet tang clinging to your tongue, when Chaewon suddenly straightened, her grin sharp and immediate.

“Jeno!” she called, her voice cutting through the noise, dripping with something between excitement and familiarity.

You turned just in time to see him, and the sight of him stopped you short.

Jeno had the kind of presence that turned heads without effort, his movements lazy but deliberate as he wove through the crowd. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his black jeans slung low on his hips and his dark sweater stretched perfectly across his chest. The sleeves were pushed up, revealing the kind of forearms that seemed designed to make people stare. His hair fell messily over his forehead, just disheveled enough to look effortless but intentional. And then there was his face—sharp, devastating, his full lips curving into an easy smirk as he approached.

Chaewon didn’t wait for him to reach you. She stepped into his space like she belonged there, throwing her arms around his neck in a way that made her gold dress shimmer under the string lights.

His laugh was low, rich, and warm as he hugged her back, his large hands resting lightly at her waist before letting her go.

“You brought her out,” he said, his gaze flicking briefly to you before returning to Chaewon, something knowing and amused in his tone.

“I did,” Chaewon said, looping her arm through yours and pulling you forward. “Jeno, meet my best friend. She’s new, so don’t scare her.”

His attention shifted fully to you now, and you felt the weight of his gaze like a physical thing. His eyes dragged over you—not rudely, but boldly—his lips twitching into something softer, lazier as his hand came up to shake yours.

“Welcome,” he said, his voice smooth and warm, the kind that made you feel like he actually meant it. “Make yourself at home.”

His grip was firm, his palm warm against yours, and you swore you could still feel the ghost of his touch even after he pulled away.

“Thanks,” you managed, your voice steadier than you expected. “It’s… a great party.”

“Chaos,” he corrected, the corner of his mouth curving upward. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

And just like that, he was gone, blending seamlessly back into the crowd, his laugh low and easy as someone else drew his attention.

You turned to Chaewon, your brows raised. “Is he…?”

Chaewon’s cheeks flushed, her lips pressing together in an attempt to feign innocence.

You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Is he the one you kept moaning about a few nights ago?”

Her eyes widened before she slapped your arm. “Oh, my God, shut up,” she hissed, but the redness in her face gave her away.

You grinned, your tone teasing. “So, that’s a yes?”

“I’m not answering that,” she muttered, grabbing your drink and taking a sip like she needed it to recover. “Anyway,” she said, clearly desperate to change the subject, “let me give you the rundown of who’s who.”

She gestured toward the stereo, where a group of guys were laughing, their energy loud and infectious. “Renjun’s the one on the left, the sarcastic one who’s always overthinking everything. Don’t let his permanent scowl scare you off—he’s actually nice. Kind of.”

She pointed toward the middle of the room, where Jaemin was sprawled on the couch, his arm draped casually around a girl who looked completely smitten. “That’s Jaemin. Resident flirt. If he talks to you, don’t take it seriously—he flirts with everyone.”

Your gaze shifted to the beer pong table, where Shotaro was grinning like he’d just won the lottery, his enthusiasm infectious. “Shotaro. Literal golden retriever energy. You’ll love him.”

Chaewon’s voice dropped slightly as she gestured toward the far corner of the room, where the crowd thinned and the lights dimmed. “And lastly… there’s Donghyuck.”

You followed her gaze, and your breath caught.

He was leaning against the wall, a cigarette balanced between his fingers, the faint orange glow illuminating the sharp angles of his face. His black turtleneck clung to his lean frame, the sleeves pushed up just enough to show his forearms, veins faintly visible beneath the skin. His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, but there was an intensity in the way he held himself, his dark eyes scanning the room with quiet calculation.

When his gaze landed on you, it didn’t move.

It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t polite. It was deliberate, his eyes dragging over you like he was stripping away the layers of your skin, searching for something hidden. The weight of it sent a shiver racing down your spine, heat blooming in your chest as you quickly looked away.

Chaewon smirked, leaning closer so only you could hear. “Good luck with that one.”

There was something about him that demanded attention. It wasn’t loud or obvious—he wasn’t trying to dominate the space—but there was a quiet pull in the way he carried himself, his presence electric in its stillness. His posture was almost lazy, his shoulder propped against the wall near the patio door, the faint glow of his cigarette tracing the sharp angles of his face. His eyes scanned the room like he was taking inventory, flicking over the crowd as though none of it mattered.

Until they landed on you.

Your stomach twisted, the room tilting slightly under the intensity of it. He didn’t bother with a smile or a nod—didn’t try to soften the blow. He just stared, unblinking, his gaze heavy and unrelenting, pinning you in place like a butterfly beneath glass.

For a moment, you couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, the force of his attention making you feel exposed in a way that was impossible to explain. You forced yourself to look away, focusing intently on the too-sweet drink in your hand, but it didn’t help. You could still feel him.

The night blurred on, the buzz of alcohol loosening your nerves as Chaewon introduced you to one person after another, most of whom you barely remembered. But the sensation of being watched never left. Every time you glanced toward the patio, he was there—smoking, drinking, leaning against the glass with a posture so languid it bordered on arrogance.

And every time, his gaze found you.

It wasn’t playful or teasing, the way some people stared at a party. It was raw, unfiltered, and it made your skin prickle with a heat that wasn’t entirely unwelcome. It felt calculated in its intensity, deliberate in a way that left no room for misinterpretation. You told yourself to be annoyed, to dismiss it as some kind of game he was playing, but you couldn’t. There was something too visceral about it, too consuming.

The room seemed smaller now, the heat of too many bodies pressing in on you, the music pounding in your ears. You could feel the invisible thread between you tightening with every glance, pulling you toward him even as you tried to stay anchored.

Finally, as the crowd began to thin, he moved.

You felt it before you saw it, the air shifting, the space between you shrinking until he was there. He smelled like smoke, sharp and rich, mingling with something darker, something warm and heady that made your knees feel weak. His presence was overwhelming, the kind that made the rest of the room blur into irrelevance.

“You’ve been staring,” he said, his voice low and smooth, the kind of tone that slid down your spine and pooled low in your stomach.

You blinked, startled by his bluntness. “Excuse me?”

His head tilted slightly, his smirk faint but unmistakable. “Don’t deny it,” he murmured, his gaze flicking down to your lips before returning to your eyes. “I saw you.”

Heat surged to your cheeks, and you struggled to keep your composure. “You’re awfully confident for someone I’ve never met.”

He took another step closer, and suddenly the heat wasn’t just in your face—it was everywhere, radiating from his body in waves that made your skin prickle. “Donghyuck,” he said simply, his name slipping from his lips like a slow promise. “And you are?”

There was something in the way he said it—sharp, unrelenting—that made it impossible to lie. The air between you buzzed with something almost tangible, and before you could stop yourself, you told him your name, your voice quieter than you’d intended.

“Hmm,” he murmured, his smirk deepening as he said your name back, rolling it off his tongue like he was trying it on for size. “Pretty.”

“You’re awfully forward,” you shot back, your voice firmer now, though your pulse betrayed you, hammering in your ears.

His eyes sparkled with amusement, but beneath the surface was something darker, something that made your breath catch. “I don’t waste time,” he said simply, taking a final drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out on the edge of a nearby glass. “Especially not when it comes to something I want.”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words settling low in your stomach. His smirk widened as though he could feel the effect he was having on you.

“I’m not something you can just… have,” you managed, though the conviction you were aiming for wavered under the heat of his gaze.

Donghyuck leaned in then, close enough that his words brushed against your ear, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. “Then tell me to leave.”

The challenge hung heavy in the air, his proximity intoxicating. You should’ve said something, should’ve pulled away, but you didn’t. The words wouldn’t come, trapped somewhere between your mind and your lips as you stayed frozen in place.

His hand brushed against yours, light and fleeting, a touch so subtle it could’ve been accidental. But it wasn’t. You knew it wasn’t. Sparks skittered across your skin, and his smirk grew sharper, his lips curling in satisfaction.

“Didn’t think so,” he murmured, his voice cutting through the haze that had settled over you.

Your heart pounded, the noise of the party fading to nothing as the rest of the world narrowed down to just him. He smelled of smoke and something darker, something that made your pulse quicken as he lingered, his eyes holding yours like a trap you couldn’t escape.

“What do you want?” you asked finally, your voice barely audible, trembling under the weight of his attention.

Donghyuck’s smile softened, but his gaze never wavered, never lost its intensity. “I think you already know.”

His fingers grazed your wrist, his touch deliberate now, trailing upward with a slow, unhurried confidence. The heat of his skin branded yours, the light pressure of his fingertips igniting something low and aching in your chest. It was a small gesture, innocent enough to anyone else, but it felt loaded, charged, like every nerve in your body had been tuned to him.

Your pulse stuttered beneath his touch, and his smirk widened, dark and knowing. “See?” he said, his voice a low hum that wrapped around you like a vice. “You feel it too.”

The alcohol had done its job, loosening the tightness in your chest and blurring the edges of your inhibitions. You were drunk, and not just on the sweetness of the cocktails or the heavy beat of the music still reverberating through the walls. It was him—his presence, the way he carried himself like he owned the night, the way his eyes lingered on you like he already knew how this was going to end.

You weren’t naïve. You knew exactly what you were walking into when he tilted his head, murmured those soft, commanding words that sent a shiver of heat straight through you. “Let me show you something,” he’d said, his voice low and smooth, and you’d nodded because, God, you didn’t want to think tonight. Not about the stress of starting over at a new college, the overwhelming pressure to find your place, or the exhausting effort of pretending you had it all together.

You just wanted to feel. To let go.

And he was the perfect distraction. Hot as sin, all sharp edges and confidence, with an intensity that made your pulse race. The way his hand brushed the small of your back as he guided you through the crowded house sent sparks skittering across your skin, each step pulling you deeper into something you weren’t ready to name.

By the time the door clicked shut behind you, the air between you was electric, charged with the kind of tension that made your head spin. The dim moonlight streaming through the window cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp cut of his jaw, the curve of his lips that were no longer smirking but drawn tight with something darker, hungrier.

You didn’t have time to second-guess. The moment he turned to face you, his gaze locking with yours, it was like the air was stolen from your lungs. His eyes dragged over you, unapologetically, devouring, and the heat in his stare made you feel bare, exposed in a way that sent a thrill racing down your spine.

Your back pressed against the door as he stepped closer, his body crowding yours without touching, his presence so overwhelming that it made your knees weak. He was close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, close enough that his breath brushed against your cheek when he spoke.

“Are you going to tell me to stop?” he asked, his voice soft but threaded with a dangerous edge, his gaze locked on yours.

You couldn’t have said no if you wanted to. You shook your head, the movement barely a whisper, your breath hitching as the corner of his lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, deeper. His hands came up to rest on either side of you, caging you in without touching you, but the weight of his proximity was enough to set your skin on fire.

And then he kissed you.

His mouth crashed into yours like a wave breaking against the shore, relentless and all-consuming. He bit your bottom lip, pulling just hard enough to make your stomach clench, the pain sharp and addictive. Each kiss was messy, greedy, wet—more like devouring than anything soft or deliberate. His tongue slid against yours, teasing, dominating, every movement pulling you deeper into the heat, stealing the air from your lungs.

“Fuck,” he growled, his voice a low snarl as he pulled back, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks. “You taste so fucking sweet.”

You yanked at his hair, pulling him back to you, the sting grounding you even as your head spun. “Shut up and keep going,” you demanded, your voice shaking, already frayed at the edges.

His laugh was dark, more like a growl than a sound of amusement. “You’re impatient,” he muttered, his breath hot against your cheek as he trailed kisses down your jawline, each one wetter and sloppier than the last. His hands slid beneath the hem of your dress, the fabric bunching in his fists as he yanked it higher.

“Because you’re fucking slow,” you snapped, arching into him as his fingers brushed the tops of your thighs.

“Slow?” He laughed again, his teeth grazing the curve of your neck before biting down hard enough to make you gasp. “You won’t be saying that when I’m done with you.”

Your dress was pulled over your head and thrown carelessly to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your heels and panties. His hands were on you instantly, rough and possessive, mapping out every inch of bare skin.

“You’re gorgeous,” he muttered, his voice barely above a growl. His lips latched onto your collarbone, sucking and biting as his hands slid up to your breasts, squeezing them roughly through your bra.

You moaned, your head tipping back as your nails dug into his shoulders. “Stop teasing,” you gasped, grinding against him, desperate for the friction of his cock against the soaked fabric between your legs.

“Not until you beg,” he said, his tone laced with arrogance.

“Fuck you,” you spat, but the words broke as he rolled your nipple between his fingers, the sensation sending a jolt straight to your core.

“Soon,” he promised, his hands slipping behind you to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor. His mouth was on you immediately, sucking and nipping at your breasts, leaving marks as his teeth scraped against sensitive skin.

You fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, frustration mounting as your fingers trembled. “Take it off,” you demanded, your voice raw with need.

He pulled back just long enough to yank his shirt over his head, revealing the hard lines of his chest, the muscles tense and coiled like a predator about to pounce.

“Better?” he asked, his lips curling into a smirk.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you shoved your hands into his jeans, your fingers wrapping around his cock through the fabric. He hissed, his hips jerking forward as you squeezed, your grip just shy of painful.

“You want me?” you teased, your voice dripping with mockery.

“More than you can handle,” he shot back, his hands gripping your ass and lifting you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and he slammed you against the wall, the force making the door rattle.

The angle pressed his cock against you perfectly, the friction sending a shockwave through your body. You moaned, grinding against him, your panties already soaked through.

“You feel that?” he muttered, his lips brushing your ear as he rocked his hips, the hard ridge of his cock dragging against your clit. “That’s all for you.”

“Then stop teasing,” you gasped, your voice breaking.

He reached between you, yanking your panties down and tossing them to the floor. His hand slid between your legs, his fingers parting your folds and spreading your slickness. “Fuck,” he muttered, his tone dripping with approval. “You’re fucking dripping for me.”

“Because you won’t do anything,” you snapped, your hips jerking against his hand.

He smirked, his fingers sliding inside you without warning. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he started to fuck you with them, his thumb circling your clit with rough precision.

“You talk a lot of shit for someone falling apart this fast,” he growled, his pace quickening as he added a third finger, the stretch burning in the best way.

“Shut up,” you moaned, your voice trembling as your walls clenched around him.

“Make me,” he challenged, his free hand gripping your jaw and forcing you to look at him. His gaze was dark, predatory, and it sent a shiver racing down your spine.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you leaned forward, biting down on his lip hard enough to draw a low growl from him.

“Fuck,” he snarled, pulling his fingers free and stepping back. “Turn around.”

You obeyed, bracing your hands against the door as he yanked his belt free, the sound of the leather sliding through the loops making your breath hitch. His jeans hit the floor, and then his hands were on you, spreading you open as the head of his cock pressed against your entrance.

“You ready for this?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

“Just fucking do it,” you snapped, your body trembling with anticipation.

He didn’t hesitate. He slammed into you in one brutal thrust, the stretch almost too much as he filled you completely. You cried out, your nails scraping against the wood as he held you there, his hips flush against yours.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he muttered, his voice rough and jagged.

“Move,” you gasped, your voice breaking.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled back and slammed into you again, the force of it making the door rattle. Each thrust was rough and unrelenting, his cock dragging against your walls and hitting that perfect spot that had you moaning with every snap of his hips.

“Harder,” you gasped, your head tipping back as your body arched against him.

“You fucking take it,” he growled, his hand tangling in your hair and pulling your head back. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you cried, your walls clenching around him.

His free hand came down on your ass, the sharp slap sending a jolt of pain-tinged pleasure through you. “Say it,” he demanded.

“I wanted this,” you gasped, your voice breaking.

“That’s what I thought,” he growled, his pace quickening as he fucked you harder, each thrust sending shockwaves through your body.

Your moans grew louder, more desperate, as the tension coiled tighter in your belly, every nerve sparking as you teetered on the edge.

“Come for me,” he ordered, his voice rough and commanding.

The coil snapped, and you screamed his name, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure tore through you. Your walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper as he groaned, his hips slamming into you one last time as he spilled inside you, the heat of his release sending aftershocks through your body.

He stayed there for a moment, his chest heaving against your back, his hands still gripping your hips. Finally, he pulled out, turning you to face him.

His voice cut through the haze like a blade, low and unwavering, carrying a command you couldn’t ignore. “You’re coming home with me,” he said, each word dripping with certainty, as though the decision had already been made. His eyes burned into yours, dark and unrelenting, the heat in them leaving no room for argument.

Your chest heaved, your breaths shallow and uneven, the aftershocks of what just happened still rippling through your body. For a moment, you could only stare at him, trying to gather the words, trying to find your footing when your knees still felt weak. Finally, you managed to smirk, defiance sparking to life beneath the lingering haze of desire. “Good. You think I’m done with you yet?” you asked, your voice soft but edged with challenge.

A slow, wicked grin spread across his lips, his teeth catching the faint glow of moonlight as he stepped closer. His hand slid to the back of your neck, his grip firm but not forceful, pulling you toward him. The intensity in his gaze didn’t falter for a second, and before you could say another word, his mouth was on yours again. The kiss was deeper this time, slower, his lips moving against yours with a deliberate, almost punishing heat, as if to remind you exactly who was in control.

There was no hesitation, no gentleness—just the raw, unrelenting force of his desire pulling you under all over again. The tension between you hadn’t eased; it had simply shifted, the sharp edges softening into something even more dangerous. You kissed him back with equal fervor, letting him take what he wanted, knowing full well you’d take just as much in return.

The ride to his place was a blur—hands tangled, breaths short, the air between you thick with the tension that hadn’t eased since the moment your lips met. By the time you crossed the threshold of his apartment, you were on him again, your back slamming against the door as he kissed you with the same raw, desperate hunger that had pulled you under hours earlier.

That night, you didn’t stop. It wasn’t enough to take him once, to feel him stretch you and wreck you with the force of his body moving against yours. You wanted him again, and again, and again. His bed became the epicenter of your unraveling, the sheets twisted and soaked with the evidence of how thoroughly you both devoured each other.

When his hands weren’t pinning you to the mattress, they were gripping your thighs as he hoisted you onto the kitchen counter, your heels digging into his back as he fucked you into the edge, his name falling from your lips like a mantra. His laughter, low and filthy, echoed in the small space when the glasses on the counter rattled, one crashing to the floor as you clenched around him and shattered apart.

“Careful,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear as he thrust into you, rough and unrelenting. “I’m starting to think you might break me first.”

The next morning, you didn’t leave. You woke to find him between your legs, his tongue tracing lazy circles that built into a steady crescendo until you came undone again, your fingers gripping his sheets, your cries muffled by the pillow.

And it didn’t stop.

The second night, he took you on the couch, your body draped over the armrest as he fucked into you from behind, one hand gripping your hip, the other tugging your hair hard enough to make you gasp. “You like this?” he growled, his breath hot against the back of your neck.

“Don’t stop,” you panted, and he didn’t—not until your legs shook and the entire apartment smelled like sweat and sex and the heady, addictive pull of him.

By the third night, every surface of his place had been claimed. The bathroom mirror was fogged with steam from the shower where he’d pressed you against the tiles, the water scalding against your back as his lips dragged down your neck, his hand sliding between your legs to work you into a frenzy.

“Look at yourself,” he whispered, his voice cutting through the rush of water, his cock filling you with slow, deliberate thrusts. “Look at how fucking perfect you are like this.”

On the fourth night, he dragged you onto the floor in front of the Christmas tree that lit up his living room in a soft, golden glow. The lights shimmered off your sweat-slick skin as he pinned you there, your legs locked around his waist, his hands digging into your thighs. “Merry fucking Christmas,” he muttered, the smirk on his lips replaced by a raw, open need as he took you hard and fast, your cries echoing in the quiet apartment.

By the fifth night, it wasn’t just the frantic, animalistic need that kept you tangled together. There was a softness beneath the hunger, a lingering touch, a stolen glance that lingered longer than it should have. He kissed you slower, his hands mapping your body like he wanted to memorize every inch of you, like you were more than just someone he wanted but someone he didn’t want to let go of.

The sixth night, he didn’t even make it to the bedroom. He found you in the kitchen, wearing nothing but one of his shirts, and he was on you in an instant, your body pressed to the cool steel of the fridge as he sank into you from behind. “Can’t get enough of you,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you back against him with every thrust.

And then, on the seventh night, something changed.

You’d just finished another round—this time, in his bed, the sheets tangled around your legs, your chest still heaving as he lay beside you, his fingers trailing lazy circles on your thigh. The Christmas lights outside the window cast faint patterns across the room, and for the first time, the silence between you wasn’t filled with heat or lust but something softer.

He turned to you, his eyes searching yours in the dim light. “Stay,” he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“I always stay,” you teased, your lips curving into a smile as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“No,” he said, shaking his head, his hand sliding up to cradle your face. “I mean… stay with me. Be with me.”

Your breath caught, your heart skipping a beat as his words settled over you. You searched his eyes for any hint of hesitation, but there was none—just that same intensity that had drawn you to him in the first place, now tempered by something gentler, something real.

“You’re serious?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

He smirked, but there was no arrogance in it this time, only sincerity. “I don’t fuck someone like this for seven days straight and not mean it,” he said, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

And just like that, he became yours too.

Every day after that was Christmas in its own way. It wasn’t the gifts or the traditions—it was the way he made you feel, like you were the only thing he wanted to wake up to, the only thing he needed to fall asleep beside. You spent the rest of the season wrapped up in each other, the world outside fading into the background.

Because, in the end, he was the gift you never knew you needed.

[chrissv4mp]

𐙚 GAMES

EDIT: shit i forgot this was in queue 😓 merry christmas i guess (if you celebrate)

Her fingers worked furiously, eyebrows furrowed and lip tucked between her teeth as she breathed heavily, "Fuck!" She groaned, leaning back against the chair as she threw her head back against the headrest softly. Her fingers slowed to a halt, stopping her moments entirely to breathe for a moment.

"GAME OVER," the screen read, flashing white for a moment before it asked if she wanted to play again. And, of course, she pressed, "YES." Billie had been at this for what felt like an eternity, playing some stupid video game instead of paying attention to you. Not even your lazy attempts at bringing her water worked, and it was starting to irritate you intensely.

So, you finally pull the oldest trick in the book: Whining her name lowly, lips pouty and eyebrows furrowed as you squirmed on the bed. Her posture was quickly fixed as the sound reached her ears, fingers pausing once again on the controller she held so possessively. Then, the screen paused, and Billie finally set the controller down on her desk, spinning around in her chair.

Her eyes landed on you immediately, clad in only your undergarments as it was almost midnight. Way past the usual time you and her fell asleep, "What's wrong, Ma?" She asks, voice husky due to the insane amount of yelling she'd done in the past few hours. Her tank top hugs her chest perfectly, and as she stretches, you can't help but stare at the dragon tattoo that peeks out as the fabric rides up.

She yawns quietly before manspreading, hands resting on her clothed thighs. She hadn't even gotten ready for bed before she started the game, and even that was irritating you. You whine again, your pout deepening, "Want'chu in bed, Bills..."

Billie's lips curl into a smirk at your tone, her tattooed hand coming up to run through her soft hair. It doesn't even take you ten seconds to scurry into her lap whenever she motions you over with her two fingers, clinging to her body like you hadn't seen her in a million years—Because that's what it felt like. Her head nuzzles into your neck, breathing in the faint smell of your perfume as her hands wrap around your waist, holding you possessively.

Your body shakes slightly, a shiver running down your spine at the feeling of her touch for the first time in a few hours, earning a quiet, amused chuckle from your girlfriend, "Someone's excited to see me, hm?" Billie comments, one of her ring-covered hands coming down to pat your ass softly. Your hips buck subconsciously, arms wrapping tighter and tighter around her body as your breath becomes uneven.

"Jus' missed you," quickly falls from between your lips, voice quiet and laced with sleep and something else. Something she can't quite put her finger on. Your eyes flutter shut as you relax in her embrace, your hips continuing the slow, grinding movements against Billie's lap. It's only when you mewl straight into her ear that she notices what you're doing and what you're feeling, "I can tell."

Your arousal leaks through your panties, coating a small patch of her sweatpants. Billie gasps just to humiliate you, "Missed you—Bills, missed you s'much." You babble, hips starting to move faster with the help of your girlfriend's hands guiding your movements, "Wan'—Need you, baby," you cry softly, voice breaking. Billie stays silent, her breathes becoming heavy, head falling back against her headrest.

"Yeah?" She asks, voice teasing and raspy. Her nails dig into your hips, eyes locking onto yours as she pulled away from your neck, "Well, c'mon, show me how much y'missed me, babygirl." She nods her head towards your trembling figure, a devious smirk playing on her lips. Your cunt clenches around nothing, clit throbbing with each movement of your hips, head lolling back and revealing more of your neck, "S—So mm..much!"

"Missed you too, sweetie," she mutters, biting her bottom lip as her hands continue to rock you back and forth on her lap. She's already dripping herself, and she swears she could cum just from the sight of you alone, "Sorry for bein' so distracted. Didn't mean to ignore my pretty baby's needy pussy." You huff at her words, sweat beginning to bead on your hairline, "Gonna cum—cum f'you, Bills!—"

Her hands are quick to halt your grinding hips, heart beating rapidly in her chest as she looks up at you with that same mischievous glint in her eye that never left. She spun her chair back around, hands leaving your hips to grab her controller once again. God, you never thought you'd be able to hate an inanimate object as much as you hated that stupid controller.

"One more game." She breathes into your ear, kissing your jawline, "Then I'll treat you better than ever."

𐙚 amiyaps : how not to hate every single thing I EVER WRITE

𐙚 tags : @sophloveswomen @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livvydunneness @vyntagess @afteraftercare @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @stonerfromlesbos @bilsdillldough @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @karaeilishh @mybluebossanova @hopelessfawn @zayluvss @meliciousmel13

[izvmimi]

cw: smut. dry humping under the influence. no penetration. semi-public sex-ish.

“Hey.”

Unsure of when exactly the two of you dozed off, you look over to Luffy, raising your head off of his chest, and gently shake his shoulder as he lays fast asleep, partially slumped against the trunk of a tree, one big enough to cast shade over both of you and your midday picnic. The sun still remains high in the sky, you glean through the leaves, so you cannot have drifted off for that long, but the fatigue on you is not exactly lifting in the normal way it does when you’re waking up from an impromptu nap, and you’re starting to get concerned.

“Luffy!”

Luffy rises not when you pat him on the face but rather at the sound of his name, eyes shooting wide open initially until he takes in your expression fully - frantic but unharmed - and his eyes go sleepy again.

“What?”

“Where exactly did you get those fruits?” You don’t know why you’re whispering or hissing in his ear, it’s not like there’s anyone around this clearing to see you except for the birds overhead and the wildlife that Luffy is a little too good at intimidating with a mere smile. You should have known better than to not question whatever Luffy presents to you without a second look, but you’ve learned to trust your captain and lover a little too implicitly, and now potentially you might be paying the price.

“Why, does your tummy hurt?” he asks with only a slight hint of alarm and more inquiry, still half-lidded and sleepy, the drawl of sleep on his tongue. He has yet to sit up completely, arms still raised and head rested on his palms. You on the other hand, are becoming somewhat diaphoretic - perhaps the hot sun was is making its way to you despite the cool shade generated by the swaying leaves, but more likely the fact that there’s a tingle through your body that’s beginning to spread from the tips of your toes and fingertips to your center and further just south of it which portends another problem entirely. 

“No, I just…”

You pause abruptly, finding yourself drawing in a breath all of a sudden and sighing out. Luffy’s eyes widen again and he finally does sit up, but you start to breathe out slowly, your eyes closing shut languidly as you lean forward over him, disoriented.

“Is everything okay?”

Barely able to hold your head up anymore, you finally tip forward onto his body, a lull suddenly washing over you and swaddling you tightly, and he lets you fall into him, pulling you onto his lap.

“I… I don’t know if it is…” you whimper but another odd sound escapes your lips, interrupting your own sentence, soft and yet guttural in nature, and your head starts to spin.

“___, what’s going on with-”

Luffy stops mid-sentence too, suddenly holding his breath. Whatever is coming over you has started to come over him too, and against his body, you can feel the sudden deep rise and fall of his chest, deeper, slower, fuller, breaths, a soft heave that makes both of your eyes roll into the back of your heads and threaten to stay there. You fingers curl and draw downward gently along the fabric of his shirt, a sudden desperate need overtaking you.

You whisper each other’s names in unison.

“Are you-,” you start but Luffy’s hands are already moving roughly up your body, slipping below your shirt but staying rested under your ribcage to move you properly, until you’re straddling him perfectly, and you maneuver your own lower body, a longing stare fixated at his unfocused one so that your the clothed crotch of your pants is just flush to his. You can feel that he’s growing hard and sensitive and the tiniest rock of your hips against his has the two of you gasping.

You have each other’s full attention now - Luffy is seated, back pressed and supported against hard bark, the rest of him tense and hot all over.

“Do you think it’s poison?” he asks, but he doesn’t wait for your answer before he leans in and nips at your lower lip, then sticks his tongue down your throat, and you take it mercifully, letting the taste of his tongue laving over yours help wash away the fire building inside your belly.

We’ll know if we pass out and don’t wake up, is a thought that passes through your mind fleetingly, but your heart is racing rather than slowing down and your arms don’t lock up or lose strength as you wrap them around his neck. You muster a shake of your head, lacking confidence but filled with desire.

You continue to kiss, your lower halves grinding against each other rhythmically, the words between you as a minimum as you swallow each other whole, want and saliva dripping and flowing between the two of you fluidly for what feels like far too long.

“Move more, I wanna feel you,” he insists, impatient as he huffs into your ear, but he does it instead, tightening his grip around you as he bucks his hips upwards, rough and desperate against the snap of grind of your own hips. No longer kissing you on your mouth, he finds solace in letting his teeth graze against the soft of your shoulder and the length of your neck.

Bite, lick, suck, grind, sigh… the friction with which the two of you writhe against each other could start a forest fire, and with further, unrelenting need, Luffy lays you back against the picnic blanket and pins you beneath him.

He stops for a moment, appraising you again hungrily but curiously like a wolf sizing up a particularly delicious appearing rabbit. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer to you.

“Don’t tease me.”

“Wasn’t trying to, I just…” he kisses you again, the bulge of his pants pressing hard against your restrictive, practically oppressive jeans.

“Clothes,” he pouts, but doesn’t stop rocking against your hips. Fingers curl around the hem of your jeans and you want him, you want more, you want skin to skin, but you think about the very full possibility that you may keep fucking like this until whatever’s come over you wears off and shake your head.

“Just like this… is fine.”

He may be groaning at your prudishness, cock straining against need and a wetter and wetter spot growing in your panties, but for now, mimicking sex, letting your bodies struggle a bit prior to release might be just enough.

And if the fruit’s effects don’t abate soon at all, you might just have to get the rest of whatever you started just now worked out through your bodies, somewhere else where the birds can’t tattletale and your bodies don’t imprint into the grass, and you can really let yourselves go.

[moody-alcoholic]

I wanted to write something Ghoap related. Why not continue this weird hurt/ angst kick I've been on.

CW: attempted date rape, non-con drugging, alcohol, violence, blood.

A guy in a bar attempts to 'pick you up' the best boys Johnny & Simon come to the rescue.

Merry Christmas/ happy holidays. <3

You’re mad, she said she wouldn’t do this again, leave you alone at a bar while she went home with some stranger. But here you are yet again alone finishing on your 4th? 5th? drink. Who cares, you signal the bartender over for another. 

The fresh gin and tonic went down like a treat numbing your anger and making you relax. You pull your phone out getting ready to send her a long 'fuck you' message. You’ve only just started typing when someone comes up on the stool next to you. 

“Hey, can I buy you a drink?” You frown looking up at him. He’s cute black hair, nice casual suit, kind of gives you a sleazy salesman vibe. 

“I’m good, thanks.” You say going back to the text. 

“C’mon, what is it, vodka tonic?” He asks, you look back over at him almost rolling your eyes. He’s not that bad looking. You sigh, not responding for a second. You don’t want to have to owe this guy. ‘It’s just a drink’ your drunken brain tells you ‘don’t turn down a free drink.’ 

“Gin and tonic.” You correct him. He smiles, waving the bartender over. You finish your short angry text to your friend and put your phone back in your bag. 

“I saw your friend leave earlier.” He says paying for the drinks. You pick yours up and he signals for you to cheers with him. You clink your glasses together before taking a sip. 

“Yeah, she went off with some guy.” You say a little more bitter than you wanted to.

“Shit, think she’ll be coming back?” He asks, sipping his drink, coke and something.

“No fucking clue. Probably not.” You sigh. 

“Shame, at least the drinks are cheap.” he jokes. You smile at him, getting a better look at him. He’s skinny, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

“So you from round here or not?” 

“No, only here to see my friend. It's her birthday tomorrow.” You say. 

“Wow so she ditches you the day before her birthday for some twink?” He chuckles. 

“Yeah.” You scoff, he was a twink. There’s the sound of a crash behind you, a woman screaming. It pulls your attention as you look at the commotion playing out behind you. Two men are squaring up to each other with smashed glasses on the floor. It’s not long before security are running over them, pulling them apart.

The incident has your blood pumping and adrenaline rushing through you. You look back picking up your drink and finishing it off to quell your nerves. 

That’s it you’ve had your last drink you should go home. 

“Thanks for the drink.” you say to him as you jump off the stool. 

“Leaving already?” He asks. You nod. He reaches out and grabs your arm. It makes you uncomfortable and you freeze.

"Yeah. I have to get back to my hotel.” Shit, you shouldn’t have told him that. 

“Oh, I can walk you if you want?” He asks. 

“No, thank you but I'm okay.” You pull your arm out his grip walking away. The adrenaline from the drunken fight is still pulsing through your body. 

“Well take it easy.” He says as you walk away, you turn back, smile and nod at him as you leave. 

There is still a line outside to get back into the club as you leave it must not be that late. You pull your phone out to check where you need to go. You’re not used to the busy London streets. You must have drank the last 2 drinks a little too fast as your head feels particularly foggy. 

You’re turning down streets using your phone’s maps app to guide you. Your mouth goes suddenly dry, your head swimming more than normal. You sway all of a sudden feeling unsteady on your feet. You stop looking at your phone looking ahead of you trying to regain your balance. 

It doesn’t help and you lean up against a sign at the corner of the street. Maybe you’re going to be sick, you drank the drinks too quickly and now you’re going to pay for it. 

You retch but nothing comes out, your throat feels dry, your head swims as your legs give way. You fall to your knees. Panic comes over you, this is not a good place to be doing this. 

You curse under your breath, you’ve clearly had way too much to drink. 

Hands land on your shoulders, the grip is strong then the hands slip under your armpits. The person pulls you to your feet, you try to talk but it just comes off as a slur as your body is pulled into a private parking area behind some bins. 

You’re not sure what’s going on, your vision is fuzzy, your breathing picks up. You can feel someone trying to pull your jacket off you, maybe you’re being robbed.  You try to talk again but nothing comes out. You try to grip your jacket to pull it back on you but whoever it is, is stronger than you. 

You feel someone grip the waistband of your jeans. Panic overwhelms you, you get enough energy to push the person off you. It doesn’t last long before there is a sharp pain on your face. You yelp as your face stings.

“Stay. Still.” A voice says through gritted teeth. You whine trying to build up srength again but nothing happens. 

Silent tears run down your face. You hate this, you hate what’s happening. Your head is swimming, you close your eyes still fighting with the hands on your waist. Suddenly the person is gone, your body falls to the floor slumping against the industrial bin. 

New hands land on you pulling your jacket back around you. You try to push them off but they grab your wrists.

“Hey lass, it’s okay, you’re okay.” You don’t know what accent that is but it’s not English, maybe he’s Irish?

“Take it easy, what's your name?”  He asks, you stop fighting, looking up at him. He’s tall even though he’s crouched down in front of you. He has a mohawk, and even in the dark you can see his deep blue eyes. You’re not going to tell him your name. You stay silent.

“Okay, you don’t have to tell me. We’re going to get you somewhere safe okay?” 

We’re?

You look past him, you can see another hulking figure holding someone up by their collar. You see fist meet skin, it makes you gasp. The man-Johnny-pulls your attention back to him. 

“How you feeling? You look a little worse for wear, think you can walk?” He asks. You nod and he helps you to your feet. You sway against him but he supports you holding you up as you walk out the parking alcove. 

There’s another man, and one on the floor groaning. You see blood, you can smell it in the air. More hands are on you now. You look up at the tall man standing next to you. You feel sick, your head throbbing, your vision blurring. Your legs give way again as your arms start to tingle. 

“C’mon lass, can you hear us?” The dark haired man says as you collapse fully to the ground. 

“Yes,” You try to say but it just comes out as a slur, it’s barely English. You don’t care, you suck in one last breath of air before everything goes black.

[alkaline-wtr]

PART 2

Simon x roommate!reader

Description: Simon finds out Readers dirty little secret. Genre/Warnings: Ghost x plus size!reader, masturbation, light smut, roommate au, reader has female anatomy, Simon is also kind of a creep, one-shot WC:

My Masterlist

** I Finally got around to finishing part two of this. I might have another part in mind if y'all want it. Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays. Enjoy.

<< Pt 1

He'd seen you that afternoon, watching him like you had something to say. Simon came home that evening from the gym. The bottom of his compression shirt riding up over his waist.

He was standing in the kitchen gulping down a glass of tap water his eyes met yours for a moment. You realized he caught you staring and looked away quickly.

At first Simon racked his brain just trying to figure out what he had done that could be bothering you. Did he leave his dishes in the sink too long? Forget to move his laundry over to the dryer Whatever it was you were clearly uncomfortable and not ready to bring it up just yet.

He brushed it aside and gave you the space to come to him when you were ready. But his suspicions grew when he started to pay more attention to your behavior and body language. The way your eyes raked over every part of him but refused to meet his own. Or how you shifted in your seat whenever he was close.

The most tell-tale sign was how your round cheeks heated up and plush thighs pressed together if you'd seen him in any less than a hoodie and jeans. Truthfully, he found it cute, the little schoolgirl crush. At least that’s what he suspected it to have been.

He was only proven correct that morning when you’d lied to him

"Must've been asleep. I never heard a thing."

Sure the blush in your cheeks could've been from the awkwardness of the situation, as he was apologizing for his inconsideration and volume level during a passionate encounter the night before. But, if youd truly been asleep that wouldnt have explained how youd left your room just moments after hed walked the girl out. He’d watched you cross the hall from the darkness of the livingroom head straight to the bathroom in only panties and a shirt.

Simon didn’t press the matter, letting it stew in the back of his mind as he continued to observe you.

However, it was the day he’d come home early, something he didn’t do often, that he’d finally gotten some truth.

Not directly of course. Simon had come into the house quietly, staying in the kitchen to brew some tea. You hadn’t heard him come in especially since he hadn’t passed by your room.

As Simon stood tiredly against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, he enjoyed the fleeting moment of silence. His ears perking up when he’d heard a muffled moan vibrate through the hallway from beyond your bedroom door.

Maybe he was just mistaken. That couldn’t have been… But, when it happened again, Simon was sure he’d heard correctly. Were you?

He crept down the hall leaning his forearm on the doorframe and tilted his ear closer to the door.

The moans continued, backed by a faint buzzing noise the sound of a toy you’d reserved for times when Simon wasn’t around.

He was getting more excited by the thoughts that filled his mind, imagining what you must look like right now. What were you wearing, if anything at all. What position were you in? How big was the toy? Or toys??

Simon felt a tent growing in his jeans aching to spring free. He contemplated going back outside and coming in louder so you would know he was home. He didn’t want to embarrass you, but as he turned to head back down the hall, it was the breathy sound of his own name uttered from your lips that stop him in his tracks.

His ear was back on the door in seconds, internally pleading for you to say it again. It took everything he had not to barge into your room right now and see you for himself. That was his name. You had uttered his name while pleasuring yourself? Maybe it was an accident, a coincidence, or he was just the closest and most available fuel for fantasy.

Simon held his breath as he listened. He let his mind wander imagining himself hovering over you with his muscular frame, pressing your knees to your chest as he slowly pushed into you, keeping a slow and steady rhythm with his hips to coax out more moans from your soft lips.

God how he wished he could take you in this moment. He imagined pressing the palm of his large hand against your soft tummy. Your thighs wrapping around him holding him inside you. He wanted to kiss every inch of you biting at the fat of your hip before burying his nose between your folds.

Simon twisted the button of his jeans between his thumb and forefinger until the two flaps of fabric snapped apart. His fingertips teased himself through the thin fabric of his boxers.

Before he knew it, he had his hand wrapped around his freed cock, thumb smoothing the precum over his head. He was never more grateful for his stealth than in this moment as he held back a grunt of pleasure.

His fist squeezed tighter around the veiny flesh he stepped back from the door pressing his back to the opposite wall too afraid you’d hear his heavy breaths through the thin barrier of the door.

He could tell you were close as your moans grew louder and more sporadic.

This was wrong. You were his roommate, and this was a complete invasion of your privacy. You remained unaware of his presence in the hallway. He closed his eyes continuing to pump his calloused hand over the stiff shaft.

What would you think finding him like this outside your door, he was creep. A disgusting insatiable man, driven only by his desires. He found himself no longer caring about being caught the closer he came to his climax.

A faint squeal echoed through the door as you reached your peak. The tightness in his core released washing over him in waves. Simon bit his lip behind the mask to suppress a groan. Desperately clutching his free hand over the tip of his throbbing cock to catch the strings of cum that spilled out hot and sticky between his fingers.

He blinked a few times allowing the high to fade. The tea kettle whistled loudly from the kitchen. He froze.

There was a shuffling on the other side of the door as Simon frantically shoved himself back in his jeans and hurried back to the kitchen to rise his hand off in the sink.

You peered into the kitchen from the hall, eyes wide in embarrassment wondering just how much he had heard.

"You're home."

You squeak out in surprise. Simon's back is to you as he pours the hot water in his mug. He only grunts in response.

"Wh- when did you..."

You trailed off.

"Just now."

He says, turning to rest against the counter. he pulls off his mask and blows on the steamy liquid. You nod slowly.

"Did... did you hear anything?"

You cringed at your own question. Simon took a sip from his mug and raised an eyebrow.

"Like what?"

You felt a slight pang of relief.

"Nothing. Never mind."

You smile doing your best to brush off the subject,

"Welcome home."

You turn retreating back down the hall and Simon smirks to himself. It was a hell of a welcome.

[bunni-v1]

Thanking that anon who asked if Lighter have weird fetishes or something along those lines,

Not a request— just a thought to share about Lighter, sub! Lighter. 👁️👁️🍷

Him to be known as a strong man, who never loses. Losing on the damn bed, crying for you to let him cum, the way his hands shakily reaching out to your wrist that prevents his cock to let out that white liquid out. Only for you to press down harder by the tip making his body arched beautifully, his hands gripping on the bedsheets his knuckles turning white.

"please— please let me c— ah— wait wait wait, no stop!— d, don't press harder— n, no nngghii—!?!!? "

Like—?? HWBDHENNDFF— LIGHTER—

Using the sound on his cock too edge him is also— chef's kiss. Watch him cry and writhe begging for you to take it out.

Ahem.

Mdni

Sub Lighter is such a cutie, y’know? He really is a tough guy, honestly. He’s all sharp edges to the outside world, which is perfectly fine! But god breaking his mental sounds fun, doesn’t it?

On the VERY RARE occasion he lets you top — at least, actually top and not just has you on top while he’s still in control — it’s so much fun getting back at him for all the torture he puts your through.

Strip him down, slowly of course, you can’t rush such a rare opportunity like this. First his jacket, then his shirt, kiss all around his chest (pay close attention to his scars, he melts like butter in your hands when you mumble how pretty they are). Make sure your free hand is fondling him through his too tight jeans, those moans are delicious. It’s important to note you must keep your clothes on here, it’s part of the fun.

Press warm, slow kisses down his abdomen before working his belt and pants off. Then slowly inch his boxers after and watch his cock spring out and smack his abdomen with an audible thump. Don’t touch it yet, though, he might get too eager and take back control if you’re not careful.

Tie him up with pretty red ribbon, oh or his scarf, he’s less likely to tear his scarf apart. Maybe handcuffs or rope — though he could easily break those too. He’ll complain as you tie his hands to the bedpost, annoyed that he can’t touch you too. The whiny tone out of place from him, but oh so delectable.

When you pull out the cock cage he knows it’s game over. He fucking hates that thing, but he doesn’t do more than grumble because he’s such a good boy. Tell him he’s such a good boy as you turn the lock on the horrid thing.

Now that you have him all restrained you can take your sweet time. Start with his nipples, they’re very sensitive. You could ghost your fingers over them and he’d buck his hips already. Scratch your nails over one while you suck on the other, looking him in the eyes while he whines like a slut.

Your other hand should scrape over his sides as you do so, nice and slow so he squirms. Go nice and slow, spend at least a good few minutes doing this. Then, once you’re satisfied, kiss and suck your way down to his thighs. Leave pretty purple marks into the muscled meat there. Coo at him about how cute he is, how pathetic he is, how you like him so much when he’s whining and squirming.

Listen to him beg you, “P-please~ I wanna fuck you. Lemme fuck you baby, lemme make you feel good~”

And who are you to deny him that? Just… not the way he wants. He’s so excited when you slip your pants and panties off, practically wagging his nonexistent tail. But you don’t take the cage off, and instead of untying his wrists you position yourself over his head.

He’ll pout a little, then he’ll get a good look at your glistening pussy and moan like a whore. “Gonna make me feel good, pretty boy?”

“Mhm~” Is the last thing he gets out before you sit on him, and then the room is full of nothing but desperate slurping and sucking. He needs to taste you more than air, has to get you off and drown in your delicious pussy juice. It’s all he wants. All he needs. Fuck his face hard, don’t hold back, he’s a strong guy he can take it. And even if he can’t this was probably the best way he could go out.

But, don’t give him what he wants, that would make things boring. Edge yourself, just as your about to cum, pull off of him to hear the most precious whine you’ll ever get out of him. His eyes will be blow wide and his face covered in your slick, be careful cause he will press up and chase after you.

“Wanna make you cum, please—“ He’ll cry, voice breaking. Do not humor him.

Return to your previous ministrations, slow and steady wins the race after all. This time, though, when you get to his thighs reach for that little key and slowly remove the cage and you leave more pretty marks. He’ll sigh, throw his head back in relief as his poor tortured member twitches excitedly at the freedom.

Kiss it, smack it around a little, run your fingers along those pretty veins just to hear him hiss and watch his hips jerk. “So desperate~” You’ll coo, and he’ll whine a “Shut up…” back. It’s all so cute.

Finally, give him what he wants. With a little kiss and a sweet smile, take him all down in one go. He’ll jerk up into you, so smack his thigh as a reminder of who’s in charge here. Throat fuck him all the way up to climax, and then full stop the second you feel him tense up.

Return back to his thighs for a moment, then jerk him off in the same process, stopping right at his peak. He’ll beg, oh he’ll beg, “Gotta cum— please lemme cum~ Baby, please, please, please-“

If he gets too annoying just squeeze his balls nice and tight, that’ll get him to choke on his words. Threaten to take out the sounding tools if he keeps it up — he hates sounding when you do it, you’re so mean to him~

Edge him until he’s so red and swollen and covered in pre-cum that he’s hardly even present to answer you. All he can think about is how much he wants one of you — he doesn’t even care if it’s him anymore — to cum.

Climb back up his body, and finally kiss him. He still tastes like you as he swallows up the affection, practically consuming you whole. Rub your pussy against his lower abdomen as you let him tongue fuck you. You can feel his muscles tense as he tries and fails to get some kind of friction for his swollen cock.

When you pull away he’ll no doubt whine again — he can’t ever decide what he wants more when you’re torturing him like this. Your pleasure or his. Too much for his mushy little brain to think of.

“You wanna fuck me, wanna make me cum.” You’ll ask, positioning yourself over his achingly hard dick.

He nods dumbly, very distracted by your hand jerking him off just below heavens gate. “Gotta use your words.”

“Wanna fuck you so bad, baby. Gonna— gonna make you cum as much as you want, please lemme take care of you~” He begs, pouting like a child at you.

“Okay~” You coo, sinking all the way down until he fits to the brim. He moans your name out like you’re some kind of god, but stops short when you don’t move. He’ll look at you angrily, tugging on the restraints once. A warning.

“You said you wanna fuck me,” You whisper, crawling up his chest to his ear, “So fuck me~”

So, like the very good boy he is, he does his very best to get off with you not moving on top of him. He fucks up into you like a bitch in heat, whining and crying all the way — “You’re so tight, can’ take it—“ “Feels s’ good— so fuckin’ good.” “Lemme cum baby, please move.”

He just can’t get off without you, though. As hot and tight as your little cunt is, he can only do so much when you’re giving him nothing to work with. No moans, no movement, just little kisses and whispers of “Good boy”. It wasn’t enough.

“Baby~” He’ll cry, and you’ll take his face in your hands, wiping away tears he didn’t know was falling.

Take pity on him here, he’s so spent and so broken now. All he wants is you. Give him a little break. Move your hips in time with him and watch his eyes roll back. He jerks in his restraints again and that’s your second warning to hurry it the fuck up.

Fuck him, hard. Slam your hips down into him, over and over unrelenting and watch him writhe and mutter “Thank you” over and over. He only knows that and your name at this point. Oh, and don’t be a hardass, let him cum inside. He’ll take care of it later, he warned to fill you up with his cum deep inside.

But… don’t stop moving even after he’s cum. Roll your hips in the same brutal pace, and listen to him whine and beg you to stop. Don’t stop.

“N’ more…” He huffs out, trying and failing to pull away from you.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” You’ll coo.

He shakes his head, “‘s too much.”

“C’mon pretty boy, you can give me one more~” And he’ll look at you with the cutest pout until — snap. That’s the sound of his restraints breaking. One of his hands grabs your smug face with a nasty scowl and the other is grabbing your hip in a vice grip.

Guess you flew a little to close to the sun, huh. Good luck!~