#and the music that is subtle and adding to the mood

[faebled-stories]

The Echo of Three

Kinkvember Day 22: Cuckolding (Cuckqueen)

Kiss of Life Haneul and Belle x Male reader

13k words

AN: A bit later than usual, sorry about that 😅. It’s been a rough day, but I still wanted to make sure I got this out to you all. Thanks for your patience and understanding!

Haneul had always had a knack for knowing you better than you knew yourself. She noticed every little thing, from how you liked your coffee—three sugars, a splash of cream—to the way you hummed certain songs under your breath, not even realizing you were doing it. She’d pick up on the subtle shifts in your mood, the tells you didn’t even know you had. But one thing she had picked up on early in your relationship was your admiration for Belle.

Belle. The world-famous soloist with the hauntingly beautiful voice and the kind of stage presence that seemed to demand the world’s attention. Her performances felt intimate despite their grandeur, as though every note was meant for you, even when heard through a screen. You’d always been open about your love for her music, gushing over new albums, replaying live performances late into the night, and casually mentioning how much you’d love to see her in concert someday. It wasn’t just the music; it was her. Something about Belle’s presence—her confidence, her poise, the way she commanded a room with effortless grace—captivated you in a way Haneul couldn’t miss.

At first, Haneul had rolled her eyes. It was cute, she supposed—the way your face lit up when any of Belle’s songs came on, how you’d hum along with an almost reverent smile. But that cuteness came with a faint sting. She couldn’t help feeling a little twinge of jealousy every time Belle’s name slipped into conversation. Belle was glamorous, untouchable, someone who could capture the attention of millions with a single note. How could she not feel overshadowed by that?

But as time went on, those feelings softened. Haneul began to see your admiration for what it was: a harmless celebrity crush, a fantasy so far removed from reality that it didn’t threaten the deep, personal connection you shared. And in truth, the way you talked about Belle was endearing—your unfiltered enthusiasm for her talent, the way your excitement bubbled over whenever she released something new. It made Haneul love you even more, seeing this side of you that was so earnest and unapologetically passionate.

Even when you jokingly added Belle to your “hall pass” list, Haneul had laughed, calling you ridiculous. “Good luck with that,” she’d teased, shaking her head at the absurdity of it all. But the idea lingered in her mind, a tiny spark of curiosity that never quite faded. It wasn’t jealousy anymore—it was something else. A mix of playful indulgence and genuine understanding. She wasn’t blind, after all. Even she could see the allure of someone like Belle.

So, when your birthday came around, Haneul knew exactly what to do. She wanted to give you something unforgettable, something that captured not only how much she loved you but how well she knew you.

-----

The faint flicker of candles cast a warm glow across the dimly lit room, the flames dancing in tandem with the soft scent of vanilla cake that filled the air. It mingled with the faint, familiar trace of Haneul’s floral perfume—something light, with a hint of jasmine—that always made you feel at home. Haneul stood across the table, her dark hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders, her voice lilting gently as she sang “Happy Birthday.” Her tone was playful, teasing on some notes, but there was a warmth to it that made your chest ache in the best way. She wasn’t a professional singer, but to you, her voice was still amazing—especially when it was paired with the way her lips curved into a smile between verses. It made every note feel like it was meant just for you.

“Make a wish,” she said softly, her dark eyes sparkling as the candlelight danced across her face.

You closed your eyes, letting the moment settle over you. The warmth of the candles radiated faintly against your skin, the flickering light behind your eyelids matching the comforting steadiness of Haneul’s presence. The soft hum of her voice still lingered in the air, wrapping around you like a blanket. You took a deep breath, the scent of the cake mingling with the faint jasmine of her perfume, and made your wish: to spend forever with her, your loving girlfriend.

When you opened your eyes, the sight of her was enough to make your heart swell. Haneul, the woman who had brought so much light into your life, who knew you better than anyone else, stood there smiling at you, her expression warm and full of love. The soft flicker of the candles seemed to frame her in golden light, her dark eyes gleaming with the kind of joy that made everything around her feel secondary.

When you exhaled, the candles flickered and went out, the flames vanishing with a quiet whoosh. A thin wisp of smoke curled lazily upward, the faint scent of burned wax mixing with the sweetness of the cake. For a moment, the room held its breath, as though even the air itself was savoring the moment. Then Haneul clapped her hands together, the sound sharp and cheerful as she broke the stillness with a bright, playful grin.

“Okay, so…” she said, dragging out the words with a teasing lilt. “Are you going to tell me what you wished for, or do I have to guess?”

“You know I can’t tell you,” you replied, leaning across the table to steal a quick kiss. Her lips were soft and warm, carrying the faint, sugary sweetness of the frosting. “It won’t come true if I do.”

“Fine, keep your secrets,” she said with a dramatic sigh, though the playful twinkle in her eyes betrayed her amusement. She picked up the cake knife, her movements deliberate and precise as she slid the blade into the frosting. The soft scrape of metal against ceramic filled the room, a small sound amplified by the quiet intimacy of the moment. She nudged a slice onto your plate, sliding it toward you with a smirk. “Here. Try not to inhale it all at once.”

The cake was perfect—soft, moist, with just the right amount of sweetness. Each bite seemed to melt on your tongue, leaving a lingering vanilla warmth. You couldn’t help but glance at her as she served herself a slice, the faint hum of her voice as she worked making your chest ache with quiet gratitude. The flicker of the candles reflected in her dark eyes, adding an almost magical quality to the moment. Everything about her—the curve of her lips, the casual confidence of her movements, the way her presence filled the room—made you feel impossibly lucky.

Haneul had always known exactly how to make you feel loved. But tonight felt different. There was something almost electric in the air, a subtle charge that made the moment feel bigger than it seemed. It wasn’t just the cake or her attention to detail—it was something unspoken, something you couldn’t quite put into words. It felt like anticipation.

As the last crumbs of cake disappeared from your plate, Haneul leaned back in her chair, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder in soft waves. The glow of the candles illuminated her profile, catching the mischievous glint in her eyes as she tilted her head, her lips curling into a sly smile. “Alright,” she said, her tone teasing. “Time for phase two.”

“Phase two?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

“Presents, obviously,” she replied, standing and walking over to the small table near the couch. She moved with an unhurried grace, her hips swaying slightly as she bent down to pick up a small stack of neatly wrapped gifts. Each package was unique—some wrapped in bright, playful patterns, others in muted, elegant tones—all perfectly folded with crisp corners and tied with coordinating ribbons. She carried them over with a sense of ceremony, setting them down in front of you with a flourish.

“Wait, all of these are for me?” you asked, eyeing the stack with mock suspicion. “What did I do to deserve all this?”

“Well, you did turn another year older,” she teased, sliding the first box toward you with a playful smirk. “And I guess you’ve been tolerable enough this year.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you picked up the first package. It was small and rectangular, wrapped in bright green paper that shimmered faintly under the soft light. You tore it open carefully, your fingers brushing against the smooth paper as you revealed a leather-bound journal with gilded edges. The leather was soft to the touch, its scent of fresh material mingling with the lingering sweetness of the cake. As you opened it, the faint smell of clean, unused paper reached you, a quiet promise of possibility. On the first page, written in her familiar handwriting, was a note: For all the dreams we haven’t dreamed yet.

You looked up at her, the weight of the gesture settling over you like a warm blanket. “This is beautiful, Haneul. Thank you.”

She shrugged, though the faint flush on her cheeks betrayed her pride. “I just thought… you’re always talking about ideas, so now you’ll have somewhere to put them.”

The next gift was smaller, wrapped in silver paper that gleamed in the candlelight. Inside, you found a sleek pair of wireless earbuds. The polished surface caught the light as you held them up, and you couldn’t help but grin. “I figured these might come in handy,” she said, leaning her chin on her hand with a mischievous look. “You know, for drowning me out when I nag you.”

You laughed, holding them up to inspect them. “Or for listening to music on those walks you’re always making me take.”

“Exactly,” she replied, her tone light but affectionate.

The final small package was the most understated of the three, wrapped in soft cream-colored paper tied with a delicate ribbon. Inside, nestled in a velvet box, was a simple chain bracelet. It gleamed subtly under the flickering light, its design understated but elegant—exactly your style. She reached out, her fingers brushing against your wrist as she leaned forward to fasten it. Her touch was warm, her focus intent as she secured the clasp with care.

“For luck,” she murmured, her voice softer now. She sat back, her eyes studying your face as you admired it. “It’s simple, but I thought it’d suit you.”

“It’s perfect,” you said, your voice quiet as you looked up at her. “You’ve really outdone yourself, Haneul. I don’t even know what to say.”

Her smile widened, a mix of pride and playfulness lighting her face as she leaned back in her chair. “Don’t worry,” she said breezily, waving a hand. “I’m not done yet.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Not done?”

She laughed, the sound light and teasing, as she stood and walked back toward the couch. This time, she returned with a sleek white envelope in her hand. The paper was pristine, the edges sharp, as though it had been carefully guarded. The faint rustle of the envelope in her hands seemed amplified in the quiet room, building the anticipation swirling in your chest. She set it down in front of you with a flourish, her grin widening in a way that made your heart race.

“This,” she said, tapping the envelope with her finger, “is the real present.”

Your heart skipped as you reached for it, your fingers trembling slightly. The paper felt smooth and crisp under your fingertips, the slight weight of the contents inside making your pulse quicken. You broke the seal, the faint sound of tearing paper almost echoing in the stillness, and pulled out the contents. Two glossy concert tickets gleamed in your hands, the bold, stylized name Belle printed across them in her signature font. The logo glittered faintly in the light, catching your eye like it had been designed just for this moment. Beneath the tickets was a smaller slip of paper, gilded with gold. The words BACKSTAGE ACCESS were embossed in elegant, raised lettering.

For a moment, the words didn’t register. You stared at the tickets, your mind slowly piecing together what they meant. It was like trying to solve a puzzle while your heart pounded in your chest, the pieces clicking into place one by one. “No way,” you whispered, your breath catching in your throat. “Is this…? Did you…?”

Haneul grinned, her dark eyes dancing as she leaned her chin on her hand. “You’re going to see her live. Front row seats. And after the concert, you get to meet her.”

You blinked, the reality of her words crashing over you like a wave. The world around you seemed to tilt, and for a second, all you could do was stare at the tickets in your hands, the weight of them feeling almost surreal. “Haneul, I—this is—” Your voice faltered as your emotions welled up, a knot forming in your throat. “I don’t even know how to thank you.”

“Well,” she teased, standing and walking over to your side, her tone as casual as if she’d just handed you socks. “You could start by not crying.”

“I’m not crying,” you muttered, though the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you. Your vision blurred slightly, and you quickly set the tickets down before pulling her into a tight hug. Her body was warm and solid against yours, grounding you as you buried your face in her hair. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “Seriously. This is the best gift anyone’s ever given me.”

She laughed softly, her arms wrapping around you with a reassuring squeeze. “You’re welcome,” she murmured, her voice soft against your ear. “I figured it was about time you got to see your celebrity crush in person.”

You groaned, pulling back just enough to look at her, though the smile on your face betrayed your exasperation. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” she replied, her grin widening, mischief twinkling in her eyes. “Besides, I want to see if she lives up to the hype.”

The two of you laughed together, the weight of the moment giving way to an electric sense of anticipation. The tickets sat on the table, gleaming in the candlelight, a tangible reminder of what awaited you tomorrow. Finally, you’d see Belle live—an experience you’d dreamed about for years. And thanks to Haneul, it was going to be even more unforgettable than you could have imagined.

-----

The concert is electric, the kind of performance that leaves the air humming with energy long after the final note fades. Belle’s stage presence is commanding, magnetic, as though the entire venue bends to her will. Her voice carries through the space like a force of nature—raw, powerful, yet impossibly intimate. Each note seems to wrap around you, as though meant for you alone. The stage lights flare and dim with every shift in tempo, casting her in a glow that feels almost ethereal. You’re completely enraptured, caught in the pull of her undeniable charisma.

But what surprises you most isn’t your own reaction—it’s Haneul’s. She’s usually composed, steady, the picture of quiet confidence. Yet tonight, there’s something different in her demeanor. She watches Belle with an intensity you rarely see, her dark eyes following the singer’s every movement. There’s a tinge of admiration in her expression, subtle but unmistakable, and it catches you off guard. You notice the way her lips part slightly during a particularly sultry note, the faint rise and fall of her chest as she leans forward in her seat, as though caught in the same spell that has ensnared you.

By the time the concert ends and you head backstage, a shared excitement buzzes between you. It’s an unspoken thing, lingering in the quickened pace of your steps, the faint blush on your cheeks when Haneul glances at you with a knowing smile. The backstage area feels quieter than you expected, the air still charged with the energy of the performance. The faint roar of the departing crowd filters through the walls, a distant echo of the electricity that filled the arena moments ago. Overhead lights cast long shadows across the room, and the faint scent of sweat and faintly floral perfume lingers in the air like a reminder of Belle’s presence.

And then there she is.

Belle is as radiant up close as she was on stage, her charisma somehow even more potent in the intimate glow of the backstage lounge. Her dark hair is pulled into a loose, slightly tousled style, a few strands falling artfully across her face. The soft sheen of sweat on her skin catches the light, making her look both human and larger than life, her beauty almost surreal. She’s dressed casually now, in a loose-fitting top that clings in just the right places and snug jeans that highlight her long legs, but she wears them with the kind of effortless grace that makes them feel like a designer ensemble.

Her laughter fills the room like music, light and genuine, a perfect counterpoint to the quiet hum of post-performance energy still lingering in the air. She moves with an easy elegance, her gestures fluid as she pours drinks and chats with her team. But as you step into her orbit, her attention shifts.

Her gaze lands squarely on you, and suddenly, it feels like the room has shrunk. Her eyes are sharp, focused, as though she’s appraising you in a way that makes your chest tighten. She tilts her head slightly, her smile widening into something teasing yet calculated. "So," she begins, her voice carrying that same sultry edge you’d heard on stage, "you’re the big fan, huh?"

The words hit you like a spotlight, and your heart stutters in your chest. Her attention is magnetic, pinning you in place as your mind scrambles for a coherent response. "Uh…" You struggle to form words, your throat inexplicably dry. "Y-yeah," you manage after a beat, your face flushing under her scrutiny. "You were… incredible."

Belle’s laughter spills from her lips, soft and teasing, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she steps just a little closer. "Incredible?" she repeats, her tone lilting as though savoring the word. "I’ll take that." She lets the pause linger, her gaze dipping briefly before meeting yours again, sharper this time, like she’s testing your limits. "Though you look like you weren’t expecting me to be that good."

Her hand brushes your arm lightly, a fleeting touch that somehow feels deliberate, calculated to send a jolt of nervous energy through you. Her fingers are warm against your skin, leaving a faint trace of heat that lingers even after she pulls back. "Relax," she says, her voice playful but carrying an undertone that’s far more suggestive. "I don’t bite." She lets her smile linger for a beat before adding with a low laugh, "Not unless I’m invited."

The air between you shifts, growing thicker, charged. Her proximity makes it hard to focus on anything else, her perfume—soft with a faint musky undertone—wrapping around you like a net. Your hands twitch slightly at your sides, your mind racing with a mix of awe and nervousness. You glance toward Haneul, desperate for some kind of grounding, but what you find isn’t exactly what you were hoping for.

Haneul is sitting nearby, watching the exchange with a quiet smile that gives away nothing. There’s a glimmer of amusement in her expression, but beneath that, something else—something curious, almost approving. When she notices your panicked glance, her grin deepens, and she tilts her head slightly, as if silently telling you to keep going.

You’re about to stammer out another awkward attempt at conversation when Haneul decides to step in. "He’s more than a fan," she teases, her voice light but purposeful as she rises from her seat. She walks up beside you, slipping an arm around your waist in a way that feels both comforting and mischievous. "You should’ve seen him watching you tonight," she continues, her tone dripping with playful exaggeration. "I thought he was going to pass out at one point."

"Haneul!" you hiss, your cheeks burning with fresh embarrassment as you glance at her, your wide eyes begging her to stop.

Belle chuckles, clearly entertained by the dynamic. "Oh, really?" she asks, her smile widening as her gaze flicks back to you. "Well, I guess I made an impression."

"He couldn’t stop talking about you for weeks after I got these tickets," Haneul adds, clearly enjoying herself now. She looks up at you with a grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "He even practiced what he’d say if he ever got the chance to meet you. Something about wanting to thank you for inspiring him?"

Your hands fly up in protest. "I did not!" you protest, your voice cracking slightly, but your flushed cheeks betray you. You glance at Belle, who’s watching the exchange with open amusement, her eyes alight with curiosity.

"Don’t worry," Haneul says, patting your chest as though to reassure you. "I think it’s cute." She looks back at Belle, her grin softening slightly. "He’s been looking forward to this for a long time."

Belle’s expression shifts slightly, her teasing smirk taking on a hint of warmth as she studies you. "You’ve got a good one," she says to Haneul, nodding toward you. There’s a flicker of something sly in her expression as she adds, "If he weren’t taken, I’d probably have jumped on him by now."

Her words land with a weight that seems to linger in the air, bold and unapologetic, resonating like the echo of a drumbeat. Your blush deepens, creeping to the tips of your ears as your pulse quickens under the intensity of her gaze. You try to respond—to say something clever, to deflect—but the words tangle in your throat, refusing to form. The tension in the room presses against you, thick and tangible, like a storm waiting to break.

Haneul’s calm voice cuts through the charged air, steady and deliberate.

"Is that so?" she says, her tone light but deliberate. Her head tilts slightly, her gaze steady as she looks at Belle. There’s a confidence in her voice that you don’t expect, a calmness that feels deliberate. "What’s stopping you?"

Belle’s eyebrows shoot up, her usual confidence flickering as surprise flashes across her face. "Wait, are you serious?" she asks, her voice a mix of laughter and disbelief. Her eyes dart between you and Haneul, searching for any sign of a joke.

Haneul pauses, the weight of her words settling over her as Belle’s question lingers in the air. Her calm exterior belies the storm of thoughts rushing through her mind. The idea—watching you with Belle, this untouchable, magnetic performer she’d admired from afar—felt like it should spark jealousy, like it should tighten in her chest in that all-too-familiar way. And there was a flicker of it, faint and fleeting, but what surprised her more was everything else.

Excitement. Thrill. A low, unexpected hum of arousal that made her breath catch for just a second. It struck her as strange, almost absurd, but she couldn’t deny the way her pulse quickened at the thought. She could picture it so vividly—your hands on Belle, the way you’d look at her with that same hungry intensity that sometimes set her own body aflame. It made her stomach twist in a way that was as exhilarating as it was unsettling.

Her gaze flicks to you, catching the uncertainty in your expression, the way your shoulders are just slightly tense as though you’re waiting for her to pull back. But she doesn’t. Instead, she shrugs, her lips curling into a small, almost teasing smile. Her voice is steady when she speaks, but there’s a softness beneath it, a quiet acceptance of the strange mix of emotions surging through her. "I mean, I’ve seen how you’ve been looking at him." Her gaze softens slightly, her eyes flickering to you as though grounding herself. "And honestly…" She pauses, her voice lowering just enough to draw Belle’s full attention. "The idea isn’t as crazy as you might think."

Her words send a rush of heat through you—confusion, excitement, and something else that twists low in your stomach. You glance between Haneul and Belle, unsure of what to say, unsure if you should say anything at all. The silence that follows feels alive, buzzing with possibility.

Belle leans back slightly, her lips parting as she processes Haneul’s words. She looks between you and Haneul, a slow, mischievous smile spreading across her face. "Well," she murmurs, stepping closer to you, "if the lady insists… who am I to say no?"

Haneul lets out a soft laugh, her cheeks faintly flushed. Despite her calm exterior, you can see it now—the rush of excitement sparking behind her eyes, the slight rise and fall of her chest as though she’s steadying herself. She glances at you again, her gaze warm but charged, and you realize this isn’t just about Belle. It’s about you. About the thrill of watching something unfold that neither of you had planned but both of you are suddenly open to.

Her hands brush against yours, her touch light yet deliberate, sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. She leans in closer, her lips hovering near yours. "Are you okay with this?" she whispers, her voice low and inviting, her breath warm against your skin.

Your throat feels tight, and for a moment, you can’t find your voice. You glance at Haneul, who is sitting on the couch, her gaze steady and filled with warmth. She nods encouragingly, her cheeks flushed, her lips slightly parted. Her reassurance steadies you, and you turn back to Belle, nodding softly.

With your consent, Belle closes the distance between you. Her lips meet yours in a slow, deliberate kiss, her movements confident and commanding. It’s unlike anything you’ve experienced before, and it leaves you breathless. Her hands slide to your waist, pulling you closer as she deepens the kiss, her tongue teasing yours in a way that makes your knees feel weak.

As the moment stretches, Belle pulls back slightly, her breath mingling with yours. "Why don’t we make this a little more private?" she murmurs, her tone sultry yet casual, as though it’s the most natural suggestion in the world.

Haneul rises from the couch, her movements slow but deliberate, her gaze locked onto yours. There’s a shared understanding between the three of you now, an unspoken agreement as Belle gestures toward a door in the back corner of the room. Her hand slides into yours as she leads you both toward it, her touch firm and steady, her confidence pulling you forward.

The room you enter is dimly lit, with a plush couch in the center and soft, ambient lighting casting warm shadows across the walls. The door clicks shut behind you, sealing the three of you in a space that feels intimate, almost sacred. Belle turns to face you both, her smirk softening into something more inviting as she steps closer, her movements fluid and deliberate.

"Now," she says, her voice dropping lower, her gaze flicking between you and Haneul, "where were we?"

The weight of the room’s privacy settles over you, amplifying every glance, every touch, every unspoken word. Haneul steps closer, her hand finding yours as her other rests lightly on your arm. She glances at Belle, her cheeks still flushed, her expression open and eager. The anticipation in the room is electric, the boundaries between the three of you dissolving as the night takes its next step.

You can’t help but glance at Haneul again, seeking her reassurance even as Belle consumes your focus. Haneul’s eyes meet yours, her expression calm but undeniably aroused. She nods again, her lips curling into a small smile, as if to remind you that she’s there, fully supportive, fully in control.

Belle pulls back slightly, her lips brushing against your jaw as she murmurs, "Relax. You’re doing fine." Her hands begin to explore, slipping beneath your shirt, her touch warm and deliberate. One by one, pieces of clothing fall away—yours and hers—until you’re left stunned, standing before her.

Your breath catches as your gaze roams over Belle’s bare skin. She’s everything you’ve admired for so long: radiant, confident, and breathtakingly real. For years, she’s been a distant fantasy, a figure on a screen or in your headphones, and now she’s here, naked before you. You’re too stunned to move, your eyes wide, your body frozen in awe.

Belle notices your reaction and smiles, her confidence unwavering as her eyes sweep over you. Her gaze flickers downward briefly, pausing, and a subtle shift in her expression betrays her thoughts—her smile widening slightly, her brows lifting just enough to suggest admiration. When her gaze returns to your face, there’s a flicker of something playful and knowing in her eyes, the kind of look that makes your chest tighten.

She glances toward Haneul, who is still seated on the couch, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and arousal. Belle tilts her head slightly, giving Haneul a knowing glance—a silent, almost conspiratorial expression that says without words: You’re a lucky girl.

Belle takes your hand and guides you to the couch, her touch firm yet unhurried, every movement exuding confidence. She nudges you to sit, her eyes locked on yours with a smirk that sends a thrill through you. Her graceful form lowers between your legs, her movements deliberate as she kneels. "Let’s see how much you can handle," she murmurs, her voice low and teasing, every word dripping with intent.

Your breath catches sharply as her hand wraps around your length, her touch warm and deliberate. Her fingers glide over you with practiced precision, each motion sending ripples of sensation up your spine. The faint trace of her perfume—subtle and musky—lingers in the air, mingling with the heat of the moment. A soft gasp escapes your lips, unbidden, as her grip tightens just slightly, perfectly calibrated to draw the first hint of tension from deep within you. Belle doesn’t rush; her eyes flick upward, locking with yours, and for a moment, it’s as if the world narrows to just the two of you. Her gaze is intent, assessing, drinking in every shift in your expression. The faintest smile tugs at the corners of her lips, a quiet show of confidence, before she leans forward, parting them to envelop you in her warm, wet mouth.

The sensation is immediate and overwhelming, a rush of heat and pressure that leaves you breathless. Her tongue moves with deliberate skill, teasing and exploring as it swirls along your length. The contrast between the firm seal of her lips and the soft, wet heat of her tongue is electrifying, sending shivers coursing through your body. Your fingers instinctively grip the edge of the couch as you try to steady yourself against the onslaught of sensation. Each flick of her tongue against the sensitive underside of your tip feels impossibly precise, perfectly tuned to unravel you. Her movements are controlled, calculated, and maddeningly slow, as though she’s savoring every moment—and daring you to do the same.

From the corner of your eye, you catch Haneul shifting on the couch. At first, her gaze is fixed on Belle, her dark eyes following the rhythm of her movements with a mix of fascination and intrigue. Her chest rises and falls steadily, though her breath catches ever so slightly when Belle’s head dips lower, taking you deeper. The faint flush on her cheeks deepens as she watches, her lips parting subtly as if to echo your own shaky breaths. But soon, her attention drifts upward—to you.

Haneul’s eyes widen slightly as they meet your face, and her breath hitches as she takes in the rawness of your expression. Your head tilted back, your jaw slack, every part of you consumed by the sensations Belle is drawing from you. There’s a hunger in your gaze, an unguarded intensity she’s rarely seen, and it sends a wave of heat coursing through her. Her thighs press tightly together, her own arousal building as she drinks in every detail: the faint sheen of sweat glistening on your skin, the tension in your arms as you grip the couch for stability, the way your lips part with soft, uneven breaths. It’s as if she’s seeing a side of you she never has before, and the sight ignites something deep and primal within her.

Belle’s pace shifts, the languid rhythm giving way to something more insistent. Her lips slide along your length with increasing fervor, her tongue teasing you mercilessly. The slick sounds of her movements fill the room, mingling with the soft gasps escaping your lips. Her hand joins the effort, stroking you in perfect sync with her mouth, her touch firm yet tantalizingly smooth. Each stroke feels like a deliberate test, designed to push you closer to the edge. Your breathing grows ragged, shallow inhales interspersed with low groans that you can’t suppress.

You glance down at Belle, and the sight alone nearly undoes you. Her dark eyes are locked onto yours, gleaming with satisfaction and something deeper—possessive, teasing, utterly confident. Even as she takes you deeper, her cheeks hollowing with effort, her lips curl into a subtle smirk, the look of someone who knows exactly what she’s doing. Her tongue flicks against the most sensitive spots with maddening precision, each motion sending jolts of electricity racing through your core.

Behind her, Haneul’s gaze is transfixed. Her breathing quickens, her chest rising and falling with visible urgency as she watches you unravel. One hand rests against her thigh, trembling slightly, while the other lingers near her folds, her fingers twitching as though tempted to join the intensity surrounding her. Her lips part slightly, soft sounds escaping her as her arousal mirrors your own, her body responding to the raw display of pleasure before her.

Belle’s rhythm intensifies, her mouth and hand working together in perfect tandem. The wet heat of her lips contrasts with the firm, deliberate strokes of her hand, the combination almost unbearable. Your fingers dig into the couch, your body tense and coiled like a spring as the fire in your stomach builds. A deep groan escapes you, raw and unrestrained, echoing in the room as Belle’s relentless pace pushes you closer to the brink.

Haneul’s eyes remain locked on you, her own breathing quickening as she watches the moment unfold. The sight of you trembling, completely lost in the force of your climax, sends a jolt of heat straight through her. She feels her thighs press together involuntarily, a rush of slick arousal pooling between her legs as her own body responds to the rawness of the scene. Her chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, her fingers curling against her thighs as she watches, captivated and overwhelmed by how unrestrained you’ve become.

Belle pulls back slightly just as you reach your peak, her hand stroking you with firm, deliberate movements. Your release comes in hot, thick waves, spilling across her lips and cheeks with startling intensity. Belle tilts her head slightly, her mouth parting as she lets the remnants land on her tongue, the streaks of your climax glistening against her skin. She doesn’t flinch or hesitate, her expression one of pure satisfaction. A smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth as she slowly drags her tongue along her lips, savoring every drop.

Haneul lets out a soft, almost imperceptible gasp, her body reacting before her mind can fully catch up. Her thighs shift, a faint ache blooming between them as she feels a flush spread across her chest. The sight of you—completely undone, your chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath—is impossibly arousing. And Belle, kneeling there with your release dripping down her face, wearing it with an unapologetic confidence that makes her look even more untouchable—it’s almost too much.

Belle meets your gaze, her smirk deepening as she licks one final drop from her lower lip. "Not bad," she murmurs, her voice low and rich with satisfaction. Her fingers trail down your thigh briefly, a playful reminder of the control she wielded just moments ago.

Haneul’s breath hitches as her eyes dart between you and Belle, her own arousal impossible to ignore now. The heat, the tension, the sheer audacity of the moment—it all swirls together, leaving her both awestruck and deeply, undeniably turned on.

Belle leans back slightly, her gaze flickering toward Haneul, her lips curling into a wicked grin. "I think he enjoyed that," she says, her voice smooth, teasing, and dripping with satisfaction. Her eyes flick briefly to you, then back to Haneul, as though gauging her reaction. Haneul doesn’t respond immediately, her breath shallow, caught up in the rush of her own thoughts. Her heart races as the moment lingers, a strange thrill mingling with the heat coursing through her body.

Belle rises with fluid grace, moving to the couch. Every step is deliberate, each motion exuding a confidence that seems to fill the room. She sits on the side, reclining back against the armrest, her legs spreading slowly, confidently, as she positions herself. Her bare skin glows faintly under the dim light, every curve and line of her body sculpted as though by an artist’s hand. Her poise is magnetic, her gaze unwavering as she locks eyes with you.

You stand there for a moment, frozen. Your breath catches as the surreal nature of the scene washes over you in waves. Belle, the woman you’d admired for so long, was waiting for you, her body open and inviting, her smirk daring you to act.

Noticing your hesitation, Belle’s smirk softens slightly, something warmer flashing in her expression. "Come here," she murmurs, her voice low and velvety, carrying an unspoken command that sends a shiver down your spine. The authority in her tone leaves no room for doubt, yet there’s a tenderness beneath it, an acknowledgment of your hesitation.

You move toward her, your legs feeling heavy as your heart pounds in your chest. Kneeling between her legs, you look up, meeting her gaze as her dark eyes bore into yours. She’s utterly in control, even as she spreads herself before you, her confidence radiating in every deliberate movement. For a moment, you almost blank out, staring at her with wide eyes, overwhelmed by the reality of it all. Belle, this untouchable goddess of a performer, was here, her legs open, waiting for you. The thought leaves you dizzy, your breaths shallow as you try to ground yourself.

You lean in slowly, your breath brushing against her skin as the faint, intoxicating scent of her arousal fills your senses. It sharpens the edge of your nerves, each detail of her more vivid than the last: the glisten of her skin, the subtle quiver of her thighs, the soft rise and fall of her chest. You hover there, so close and yet frozen, as though one wrong move might shatter the spell. The surreal nature of the moment presses down on you, leaving you suspended in sensory overload.

Belle notices immediately. Without hesitation, her hand shoots out, her fingers tangling in your hair with a firm, possessive grip. She pulls your head forward with deliberate force, pressing your lips firmly against her folds. The suddenness of the gesture snaps you out of your trance, the taste and warmth of her flooding your senses as she holds you there.

Her hand lingers, her fingers tightening slightly as if to make sure you’re fully engaged before releasing you. The soft vibration of her moan travels through her body, pulling something primal from deep within you. Instinct takes over, and your lips begin to move against her, brushing tentatively at first. Your movements are slow and deliberate, each stroke of your tongue light and exploratory, as though savoring the taste of something rare and exquisite.

Belle’s moan deepens, her voice low and unrestrained, a sound so intimate and raw it sends a jolt through you. Your member twitches at the sound, your arousal building with each note she releases. Encouraged, you grow bolder, each movement of your tongue more confident, more deliberate. You start slow, savoring every inch of her, your strokes measured and intentional as if this were a feast meant to be lingered over. The warmth of her, the way she reacts to each flick and swirl of your tongue, is utterly intoxicating.

Belle’s hands grip the armrest behind her as her head tilts back. Her breathing grows heavier, her chest rising and falling in time with your movements. The soft, melodic sounds she makes pull you deeper into the moment, every moan spurring you to explore more, to find new ways to make her lose herself.

Her thighs tremble faintly under your touch, and you steady her, your hands moving to her hips to keep her in place. Her soft gasps grow louder, her voice dipping into raw, unguarded cries of pleasure. You press closer, your confidence mounting as you lose yourself in the rhythm of her body, every sound she makes driving you further.

Belle’s back arches slightly, her breathing quickening as your tongue swirls around her sensitive nub before dipping lower to tease her entrance. The way she reacts—her hips shifting toward you, the way her fingers grip tighter against the couch—sends a fresh wave of desire surging through you. You keep going, pulling every ounce of pleasure from her as her soft cries fill the room, each one a melody more beautiful than the last.

With each moan, your confidence builds, the initial hesitation melting away. Soon, your movements grow less restrained, driven by an almost primal need to pull more from her, to hear her voice climb higher. You press your tongue more firmly against her, each stroke hungrier, more desperate. The desire to make her lose herself completely consumes you, fueling every motion. You focus intently on the way her body responds—the slight tremble in her thighs, the way her hips instinctively shift toward you, chasing every sensation.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Haneul shifting on the couch. Her breathing has deepened, the subtle hitch in each exhale betraying her growing arousal. When you glance briefly in her direction, your heart skips. Her thighs are pressed tightly together, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her skin flushed with heat. Her dark eyes are locked on you, a mix of fascination and hunger, drawn to the intensity with which you’re worshiping Belle. The sight of you so consumed, so eager, is clearly affecting her.

The realization sends a thrill through you, but you return your focus to Belle, determined to elicit even more from her. Each movement of your tongue becomes calculated yet frantic, teasing the edges of her folds before delving inside. You savor the way her body reacts, the faint shudder that ripples through her as you alternate between swirling around her entrance and flicking lightly against her clit. Every motion pulls another sound from her lips, a fresh wave of breathy, unrestrained moans that fill the room like music.

Your hands grip her thighs to steady yourself, your fingers digging into the soft flesh as you hold her open. When her legs begin to tremble, instinctively trying to close against the overwhelming sensations, you tighten your hold, refusing to let her escape the intensity. Belle’s moans grow louder, her voice breaking into gasps as her back arches, her hands gripping the couch tightly. The usual control she carries so effortlessly is unraveling before you, every sound she makes spurring you on.

From behind you comes a soft gasp, breaking through the haze of your focus. You pause, turning your head slightly, and your breath catches. Haneul is completely naked now, her clothes discarded and forgotten in the growing pile on the floor. Her hands move over her body, one slipping between her thighs, her fingers working rhythmically as she watches. Her gaze is locked on you and Belle, but there’s something deeper in her eyes—a connection that pulls you back toward her every time. Her breath is uneven, her lips parted, her expression a mix of arousal and admiration.

The sight of her—the way she’s looking at you, her body glistening in the low light—ignites something even hotter inside you. As much as you want Belle, as consuming as this moment is, Haneul’s presence grounds you, intensifies your desire. You turn back to Belle, your determination redoubled. If this was your moment to impress, to give them both something unforgettable, you weren’t going to hold back.

Your attention zeroes in on Belle’s clit now, your tongue moving with rapid precision against the sensitive nub. Each flick and press earns you a sharper gasp, a louder moan. Her hips buck against you, her movements desperate as her body chases the pleasure you’re giving her. Your hands hold her legs firmly in place, spreading her wider, ensuring she can’t escape the onslaught of sensation. Belle’s cries grow louder, her usual poise dissolving into pure, unrestrained pleasure.

"Don’t stop," she gasps, her voice high and trembling, her chest heaving with every word. Her fingers dig into the couch, her thighs quivering beneath your grasp as she teeters on the edge. You don’t relent. Your tongue is relentless, teasing and pressing and flicking with a rhythm that drives her higher and higher. Her legs strain against your arms, her muscles taut, but you hold her open, refusing to let her pull away from the intensity.

Belle’s climax builds rapidly, her moans turning into sharp cries as her body begins to quake. You can feel it—the way her thighs tighten, her hips jerk involuntarily, her entire body preparing for release. When it hits, it’s like an explosion. Her voice breaks into a loud, unabashed cry as her back arches, her fingers clutching the couch for dear life.

A sudden rush of liquid warmth drenches your face and chest, Belle’s release coming in an overwhelming wave. It’s powerful, unexpected, and utterly intoxicating. The sharp, heady scent of her arousal fills the air, thick and unmistakable, as her body jerks uncontrollably beneath your grip. You pause for a heartbeat, stunned by the rawness of the moment, the sheer force of her climax leaving her trembling violently. Her soft whimpers fill the air, each one high-pitched and shaky as the last waves of pleasure crash through her. Her thighs quiver, her knees giving out completely, and the tension in her frame melts into exhausted surrender as she slumps forward, still twitching from the aftershocks.

Behind you, Haneul lets out a choked cry, her voice breaking with the intensity of her own release. You turn your head just in time to see her arch back, her body taut as if caught in the grip of something uncontrollable. Her hand moves frantically between her legs, her fingers glistening with her arousal as her hips buck against her touch. Her thighs clamp together momentarily, her movements erratic as her climax overtakes her with full force.

Her moans are raw and unrestrained, filling the room as her body trembles violently. Her free hand grips the edge of the couch. She fights to keep herself grounded, but her body betrays her—every muscle quakes as wave after wave of pleasure floods her senses. A sudden gush of her release escapes, slicking her thighs and pooling beneath her, the scent mingling with Belle’s and creating an intoxicating blend of musk that saturates the air.

Her head tilts back, her mouth open in a silent scream before another loud, broken moan escapes her lips. Her entire body shudders as the peak finally crests, leaving her slumped against the couch, her chest heaving and her skin glistening with sweat. Her cries mix with Belle’s lingering whimpers, creating a shared symphony of pleasure that echoes off the walls, binding the three of you in the raw, primal intensity of the moment.

The air feels heavy now, thick with the scent of release and the echoes of your shared sounds. The moment stretches endlessly, each of you caught in the lingering aftershocks, bound together by the raw intimacy of it all. Belle reclines against the couch, her chest rising and falling as she catches her breath, her body still trembling faintly from the intensity of her climax.

Her gaze flickers to Haneul, who is slumped back on the couch, her flushed skin glistening in the dim light. Haneul’s breaths come in shallow gasps, her body visibly relaxed yet humming with the residual heat of her release. Their eyes meet briefly, a shared look passing between them—something unspoken, an acknowledgment of the rawness and beauty of the moment they’ve just shared. Belle’s lips curl into a faint smile, her confidence glowing in the aftermath, and Haneul mirrors it with a soft, breathless laugh.

As Belle’s gaze shifts, it lands on you, still kneeling between her legs. Her eyes drop slightly, taking in your form, and then lower still. She notices your member, back at full strength, glistening faintly with a mix of exertion and her previous attentions. A mischievous spark lights in her eyes as an idea begins to form. She straightens slightly, her body language shifting back into one of command, her movements deliberate and poised. Her gaze flickers between you and Haneul, her lips curling into a smirk.

"Alright," she murmurs, her voice low and commanding. Her eyes lock onto Haneul with an air of playful authority. "Haneul, lie down for me—right here."

She gestures to the space where she had just been, the fabric still warm and damp from her release. Haneul hesitates for only a moment, her eyes darting to yours, seeking silent reassurance. When you nod, she mirrors the gesture, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks as she moves to the couch. There’s a nervous grace in the way she positions herself, her movements tentative but unresisting. She leans back against the armrest, her legs spreading slowly, exposing folds already glistening with arousal. Her breathing quickens, and her gaze alternates between you and Belle, anticipation written across her face.

Belle shifts to the opposite end of the couch, bending over the armrest so she’s facing Haneul. The position stretches her body out provocatively, her curves taut and inviting, her flushed, sweat-slicked skin catching the light in a way that makes her look almost otherworldly. Despite her disheveled state, her smirk remains confident, teasing, as if she were still performing. She lifts her head slightly, her eyes locking onto you as she gestures with a lazy wave of her fingers. "Behind me," she says, her tone firm but laced with playful authority. "Let’s make sure your girlfriend has the best seat in the house."

Your breath hitches as you step forward, positioning yourself behind Belle. From this angle, the sight before you is almost too much to take in—Haneul reclining in front of you, her flushed face framed by her tousled hair, her chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. Her legs remain spread, her folds pulsing faintly as her fingers move over herself in slow, deliberate circles. Then there’s Belle, bent over in front of you, her body radiating heat, her hips tilting slightly to give you better access. The combination—the contrast of Belle’s commanding confidence and Haneul’s vulnerable allure—sends a rush of heat surging through you.

You guide yourself to Belle’s entrance, your tip brushing against her warm, slick folds. The sensation is immediate, electrifying, and for a moment, you falter, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the moment. Belle lets out a low hum of approval, her body shifting back toward you in encouragement, the motion subtle but unmistakable. She glances back at you with a smirk, her gaze equal parts amused and urging, her confidence pulling you forward.

Taking a steadying breath, you press forward, easing yourself inside her with slow, deliberate movements. The first push is exquisite, her tight warmth enveloping you inch by inch. Belle’s breath catches, her soft gasp breaking into a low moan as you stretch her. Her fingers clutch at the armrest, her knuckles whitening briefly as she adjusts to your size. The sound sends shivers down your spine, the rawness of it matching the tension coiling in your body. She exhales shakily, her voice low and laced with satisfaction. "There we go," she murmurs, her tone teasing but edged with need.

Your eyes flick instinctively toward Haneul, seeking reassurance in this surreal moment. She’s watching intently, her lips parted as her chest rises and falls in rhythm with her quickening breaths. Her hand moves boldly now, her fingers gliding against her folds as her arousal heightens. The wet sounds of her pleasure mingle with Belle’s breathy moans, creating a symphony of desire that fuels your movements.

You start with a slow, measured rhythm, your thrusts deliberate as you focus on the way Belle responds. Her body moves with yours, her hips rolling back to meet each motion, a soft hum escaping her lips with every push. The grip of her walls around you is overwhelming, each stroke building the tension higher. Your hands grip her hips firmly, grounding yourself as the moment threatens to sweep you away.

But it’s Haneul’s gaze that keeps drawing you back. Her heavy-lidded eyes flicker between your face and where your body connects with Belle, her expression a mix of awe and unfiltered arousal. Her fingers quicken between her thighs, her soft, breathy sounds spurring you on. The sight of her like this—completely enthralled, her body trembling as she watches—is almost enough to undo you.

Belle shifts beneath you, her movements growing more insistent. Her body rocks with your rhythm, her back arching slightly as she pushes against you, trying to match your thrusts. The soft, slick sounds of your connection fill the room, each movement drawing a quiet gasp or low moan from her lips. But it’s not enough. Her hips press back harder, meeting yours in a way that makes your breath hitch, her determination to draw more from you undeniable.

She turns her head slightly, her dark eyes locking onto yours over her shoulder. There’s a heat in her gaze, a challenge sparking behind it that sends shivers through you. "Faster," she murmurs, her voice breathy but commanding, every word dripping with need. Then, with a smirk tugging at her lips, she adds, "Harder." The words land with weight, her tone tinged with expectation, daring you to give her everything she’s asking for. The tension coils tighter in your chest, and you feel the pulse of heat shoot straight through you.

You adjust your rhythm, your hips driving forward with more force. Each thrust sends a jolt through Belle’s body, her gasps turning into louder, more desperate cries as her hands clutch the armrest for support as she braces herself, her back arching deeper with every movement. But Belle isn’t content to let you take full control. Her hips grind backward into you, the motion deliberate and hungry as she matches your pace. The sheer effortlessness of her movements, the way she works her body to meet yours, leaves you breathless.

Her moans grow louder, more frantic, as the intensity builds. Her legs tremble beneath her, her knees shifting against the floor as she struggles to maintain her balance. Her hips buck against you, her movements urging you to go deeper, harder, her body demanding more. The force of each thrust pushes her against the edge of the couch, her body pressed firmly into the armrest. The soft fabric does little to muffle the sound of her cries as they rise higher, turning into sharp, high-pitched whimpers with every deep stroke.

But something still holds you back—a faint hesitation lingering in the back of your mind, the weight of the moment pressing on you. Your gaze flickers toward Haneul, seeking her grounding presence, and the sight of her makes your breath catch.

Her eyes glisten with arousal, her gaze flickering between your face and the way your body moves with Belle. Her chest heaves with every breath, her own arousal climbing as her fingers work with increasing urgency. Her thighs tremble, her movements growing bolder as she watches you, completely lost in the rhythm you’ve created. When she notices the slight falter in your thrusts, her lips curl into a soft, knowing smile.

"Give her everything, baby," Haneul whispers, her voice trembling but full of certainty. Her words carry no jealousy, only a quiet thrill, the sincerity in her tone sending a fresh rush of desire through you. "Don’t hold back."

Her words break whatever was holding you back. You grip Belle’s arms firmly, your fingers wrapping around her toned biceps as you pull her back toward you. The strength of your hold sends a jolt through her, her breath hitching in surprise. The first thrust with this newfound confidence hits a spot deep inside her, and the sharpness of her reaction is immediate—a loud, high-pitched squeal that escapes her lips, raw and unrestrained. Her body rocks forward, her legs losing their grip on the floor as the force of your motion propels her into the couch’s edge.

Belle braces herself instinctively, her body jerking forward with each powerful thrust. But with her arms pinned securely behind her, gripped firmly in your hands, there’s nothing for her to hold onto, nothing to ground her against the relentless rhythm. Her head tilts forward, dark strands of hair clinging to her damp neck and shoulders, the strain in her posture only amplifying the vulnerability of her position. Each thrust sends her rocking into the edge of the couch, the plush fabric sandwiching her hips, forcing her to take every inch of you with no escape.

The angle leaves her completely at your mercy, her body arching slightly as each deep, unrelenting stroke sends shockwaves through her. Her voice rises in pitch, raw and breathless, every sound spilling from her lips a mix of desperation and pleasure. The force you drive into her keeps her pinned against the couch, her body unable to resist the steady, punishing rhythm.

Her cries grow louder, more broken, the lack of control heightening her response. "Oh—God, Yes!" she gasps, her voice cracking as her legs quiver beneath her. Her body seems to melt into the moment, yielding entirely to the intensity of your movements, her form trembling as each thrust pushes her further into the edge of bliss. The tension in her thighs gives way, and she surrenders fully, the curve of her back accentuating the way she takes you, completely open, completely consumed.

Haneul watches the two of you, her eyes wide with arousal as her breathing grows shallow. Her gaze roams over your body, the sheen of sweat glistening on your skin, highlighting the way your muscles flex with every deep thrust into Belle. Her thighs press together briefly, her hand pausing before resuming its circular motions as she takes in the sight. The sheer hunger in your movements, the raw force of your rhythm, sends a fresh wave of heat surging through her. She can’t believe how arousing it is to see you like this—so primal, so utterly consumed.

Her fingers move faster as she gives in to the sight before her. Every sound—the wet slap of your bodies connecting, Belle’s unrestrained cries, the ragged rhythm of your breath—pushes her closer to the edge. Her thoughts spiral into a chaotic mix of disbelief and desire. She never imagined she’d feel this way, watching you with someone else, but the reality is undeniable.

Belle’s cries shift, her voice breaking into choked moans as the intensity of your thrusts makes it impossible for her to keep her composure. "Fuck, you feel so good." she gasps, her voice trembling. Her back arches further, her body instinctively seeking more even as the couch forces her hips upward, heightening every sensation. Her legs tremble uncontrollably now, the floor offering no anchor as her knees slide slightly with each powerful thrust.

The pleasure coursing through Belle is relentless, each motion driving her closer to the brink. "Don’t stop," she cries, her voice a ragged mix of plea and demand, her words breaking as her breaths come faster. You can feel her trembling under you, her body tightening with each deep thrust. Her arms strain against your grip, but there’s no escape. She can only take what you’re giving her, her fingers curling helplessly in the air as her legs quiver beneath her, barely holding her up.

Haneul’s eyes flick between Belle’s flushed, sweat-slicked body and yours, her gaze darting to the way your muscles flex and shift with every motion. Her own arousal mounts uncontrollably, the tension in her body coiling tighter and tighter. Her breathing grows shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly as soft whimpers escape her lips. Her fingers work furiously between her legs, her thighs trembling as the pleasure surges higher, threatening to overtake her. Her flushed skin glows in the low light, her lips parted as though trying to find air in the heated haze of the moment.

Belle notices Haneul’s struggle, the way her fingers falter slightly, her movements becoming erratic as the edge looms dangerously close. Between her moans, Belle lets out a shaky laugh, her voice breaking under the strain. "Not yet," she gasps, her words sharp and commanding despite the tremble in her tone. "Hold it."

Haneul’s eyes widen, her body freezing momentarily as the words sink in. Her hand stills, and her legs clamp together instinctively as she fights the rising tide threatening to crash over her. Her body trembles violently, her teeth sinking into her lower lip in a desperate attempt to hold on. Her hands clutch at the couch as she pushes back against the overwhelming wave of pleasure, refusing to let it consume her. Every nerve in her body feels like it’s on fire, her muscles straining as she teeters precariously on the edge.

You feel it too—Belle’s body clenching around you, her cries turning into breathless, frantic whimpers as her climax builds to an unbearable peak. Her head tilts forward, dark strands of hair clinging to her damp skin as her body trembles uncontrollably. Her voice cracks as she repeats the command, her tone desperate and insistent. "Hold it. Not yet."

The tension in the room is unbearable, a shared anticipation that binds the three of you together. Every sound, every movement feeds into the moment, the energy coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap. Belle’s voice finally cuts through the haze, gasping out in a tone laced with both authority and desperation. "Now, Haneul. Let go."

The release is immediate, and the room erupts in a symphony of pleasure. Haneul cries out loudly, her voice raw and uninhibited as her body arches off the couch, the intensity of her climax washing over her in crashing waves. Her hands clutch the fabric beneath her, nails digging into them as her thighs tremble violently, unable to contain the force of her release. Her head tilts back, her lips parted in a series of broken gasps and cries as the pleasure consumes her completely.

Belle’s body tightens impossibly around you as her own climax hits. Her cries rise in pitch, her voice breaking into a series of unrestrained moans as her legs give out completely, leaving her suspended only by the couch’s edge and your firm grip on her arms. Each deep thrust pushes her further into bliss, her body trembling violently as she surrenders entirely to the overwhelming sensations. Her head tilts back, her mouth open in a silent scream before another loud, desperate cry bursts from her lips, the force of her release echoing through the room.

The intensity of the moment sends you over the edge, the sight of both women undone by pleasure pushing you past your limit. With one final, deep thrust, you empty yourself inside Belle, the warmth and tightness surrounding you heightening every sensation. A guttural moan escapes your lips as your body trembles with the force of your release, every muscle taut before the wave of pleasure washes through you, leaving you breathless and shaking. Belle’s body clenches around you, milking every last bit of your release as she shudders beneath your grip.

The room fills with a harmony of moans, each voice blending together in a perfect, raw symphony of shared ecstasy. The sounds—Haneul’s cries of pleasure, Belle’s desperate moans, and your own guttural groans—echo off the walls, amplifying the intensity of the moment. The mingling scents of sweat, arousal, and release create a heady, intoxicating musk that clings to the air, making the atmosphere feel thick and electric.

You stay there for a moment, catching your breath as the room grows quieter, the echoes of your shared moans still lingering in the thick, musk-filled air. The three of you are trembling, spent, your bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction. When you finally pull out, Belle’s body jerks slightly at the motion. She tries to straighten herself, but her legs give out beneath her, leaving her slumped against the armrest. She lets out a soft laugh, her usual confidence momentarily replaced with breathless exhaustion.

"Here," you murmur, stepping forward and gently guiding her to sit on the couch. She shifts carefully, her movements languid as you help her settle into a position facing Haneul. Belle leans back, her legs spreading lazily, her body still radiating heat. Her eyes flicker to Haneul, and her smirk returns, teasing and wicked. "Come here, sweetheart," she purrs, her voice low and inviting. She gestures downward, her fingers tracing idly along her inner thigh. "Clean up your mess."

Haneul hesitates for only a moment, her eyes darting to yours as though silently seeking permission. When you give her a subtle nod, her lips part, and she moves forward on shaky knees, positioning herself between Belle’s legs. Her hands glide along Belle’s thighs, her touch delicate but deliberate, her fingers brushing over the slick remnants of your release. Belle shivers at the contact, her breath catching as Haneul leans in closer.

Haneul’s lips press against Belle’s folds, tentative at first, her tongue sweeping softly along her. Belle gasps, her body twitching slightly as the sensation sends fresh tremors through her. Haneul becomes bolder, her tongue moving with slow, deliberate strokes, cleaning every trace of you from Belle’s warm, sensitive skin. Her fingers follow, slipping carefully inside to scoop out the remaining seed. Haneul brings her fingers to her lips, licking them clean with a precision that makes Belle let out a shaky moan.

"God," Belle murmurs, her voice unsteady as her body shudders under Haneul’s attention. "You’re thorough, aren’t you?"

Haneul doesn’t respond, her focus entirely on the task at hand. Her tongue and lips continue their work, moving with a mix of care and hunger that draws soft, breathy sounds from Belle. Each stroke of her tongue sends aftershocks through Belle’s body, her thighs trembling uncontrollably as her head tilts back, her damp hair clinging to her skin. By the time Haneul finishes, Belle is slumped against the back of the couch, her chest rising and falling heavily, a long, satisfied sigh escaping her lips.

When Haneul sits back, her lips glistening and her cheeks flushed, she meets your gaze. You’ve been watching from nearby, leaning against the armrest, your heart pounding as you take in the scene. The intensity of the moment is reflected in her expression—a mix of awe, satisfaction, and a lingering arousal that hasn’t entirely subsided.

Without a word, Haneul rises onto her knees and turns toward Belle. Her hands rest gently on Belle’s thighs as she leans in, her lips brushing Belle’s in a soft, exploratory kiss. The contact deepens quickly, their mouths moving together, sharing the mingled taste of you. Their kiss grows more fervent, their bodies pressing together briefly before Haneul pulls back, her chest rising and falling as she turns toward you.

You sit back on the couch, the cushions soft beneath you as you watch her approach. Haneul climbs onto your lap, her knees straddling you as she presses close, her arms wrapping loosely around your neck. Her lips find yours immediately, and the kiss is warm, insistent, filled with a mix of tenderness and lingering heat. You can taste Belle on her mouth—the traces of her release and your own mingling on her tongue—and it sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through you, even in the haze of exhaustion.

Haneul melts into you, her body fitting perfectly against yours as she snuggles into your chest. Her head rests on your shoulder, her breathing evening out as she presses soft kisses to your neck. Your arms wrap around her instinctively, holding her close as the weight of the night settles over the three of you.

Belle shifts beside you, her movements unhurried, her body still radiating the warmth of exertion. She reclines lazily next to you, her smirk softening into something gentler. With a quiet sigh, she leans in, resting her head on your opposite shoulder. The scent of her hair—sweet with a faint musky undertone—fills your senses as her body relaxes against yours. Her fingers idly trace along your arm, her touch light and content.

The three of you sit in comfortable silence, the heat of the moment giving way to a warm, shared intimacy. Haneul’s soft kisses continue, her lips grazing your skin as her body molds against yours, her warmth seeping into you. Belle’s breathing steadies, her head nestled on your opposite shoulder, her hair tickling your neck as her eyes flutter closed. The satisfied curve of her lips lingers even as her body begins to relax fully. Your arms tighten around Haneul, one hand brushing lightly against Belle’s arm, grounding all of you in the quiet connection of the moment.

The aftermath unfolds in a haze of gentle movements and shared smiles, the intensity giving way to an almost surreal calm. Eventually, Belle stirs, her head lifting from your shoulder as she stretches with a languid grace. Her legs are still unsteady, and she steadies herself briefly on the edge of the couch before smirking. "You two are something else," she murmurs, her voice carrying a teasing warmth as she reaches for a nearby robe. She drapes it over herself loosely, tying it at her waist before turning back to face you and Haneul.

Belle steps closer, her dark eyes meeting yours with a quiet intensity. Without a word, she leans in, her lips brushing softly against yours in a lingering kiss. The gesture is simple, but the tenderness behind it leaves you breathless, your chest tightening as she pulls away. Then, she turns to Haneul, cupping her face gently in her hands. Their kiss is just as soft, just as deliberate, and when Belle pulls back, there’s a glimmer of affection in her smile.

"You’re lucky," she says, her voice low and sincere, her gaze flicking between the two of you. "Both of you."

She reaches for a small bag on the nearby table, her movements unhurried. From it, she pulls out a pair of sleek, laminated passes, their glossy surfaces catching the dim light. "Here," she says, holding them out. "These will get you backstage at any of my shows. Consider it my personal VIP invitation." Her smirk softens slightly, a hint of mischief in her expression. "I hope I see you again."

With a small wave and a final glance over her shoulder, Belle steps out of the room, leaving behind the faint scent of her perfume. The door clicks softly shut, and the quiet, dimly lit space feels heavier, more intimate, as you and Haneul are left alone together.

As you both step out of the venue, the cool night air wraps around you, a stark contrast to the heat and intensity of the evening. The adrenaline from the night begins to fade, leaving behind a pleasant exhaustion that settles deep into your bones. Haneul leans heavily against you, her arm slipping around your waist as her steps falter slightly. She lets out a soft laugh, her cheeks still flushed and glowing.

"My legs feel like jelly," she mumbles, glancing up at you with a sheepish smile. "I don’t think I can make it to the car without collapsing."

You chuckle, steadying her as she stumbles again. "Want me to carry you?"

She pouts, her tone playful but tinged with genuine need. "Would you? Please? I’ll be the best girlfriend ever."

You crouch down, laughing softly. "You already are. Come on, hop on."

With a giggle, she climbs onto your back, her arms wrapping securely around your shoulders. Her warmth presses against you, and her face nestles against the side of your neck, her breath tickling your skin. "You’re the best," she murmurs, her voice soft and affectionate.

The walk across the large parking lot is quiet at first, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the stillness. Haneul sighs contentedly, her cheek resting against your shoulder as you carry her, the weight of her feeling comforting and grounding.

After a moment, you break the silence. "So… what did you think?" Your voice is hesitant, unsure, as the memories of the night replay vividly in your mind. "Was it… okay?"

Haneul shifts slightly, tightening her arms around you as her lips brush against your ear. "Okay?" she repeats, incredulous. "That was… I don’t even have words for how hot that was."

Her words send a wave of warmth through you, a mix of embarrassment and relief flooding your senses. "Really?" you ask, glancing back at her. "I mean, I thought you’d like it, but I wasn’t sure "I didn’t think it would be so hot," she says suddenly, her tone earnest and spilling over with excitement. Her words come quickly, like she’s unable to contain them. "But watching you—" She pauses for a moment, a small, almost shy laugh escaping her lips before her voice picks up again, stronger. "Watching you let go like that, after I told you to? God, it was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen."

Her arms tighten around your shoulders, and you can feel her breath hitch slightly as she continues. "You were holding back at first—I could see it in every move. But then you looked at me, and I could almost feel it—the exact moment you stopped hesitating. And when you did, it was like you became someone else. All that strength, that power—you just used it. And I knew I’d done that. I gave you that permission, and you didn’t just take it—you owned it."

Her voice lowers slightly, but the excitement lingers in every word. "And Belle," she breathes, a soft laugh escaping her. "To see her like that. She’s so strong, so confident—this larger-than-life presence—and yet, you had her completely undone. She wasn’t the performer anymore; she was just… vulnerable, giving in completely. Watching that happen, knowing you were the one doing it, it was…" She trails off, shaking her head slightly against your neck before whispering, "I don’t think I’ll ever forget it."

She shifts slightly on your back, and her voice grows softer, tinged with awe. "Seeing you like that, knowing you could let go so completely—it was amazing. I didn’t know I’d feel this way, but I loved every second of it. It was… more than I ever expected."

You glance back at her, your brow furrowed slightly. "You’re sure? I mean, you’re not just saying this to make me feel better?"

Haneul chuckles softly, her breath warm against your neck as she presses a kiss to your cheek. "I’m sure," she murmurs. "Really. Every second of it was amazing. I didn’t know I’d feel this way, but I loved it. And… seeing you happy, seeing you like that… It made me happy too."

Her words settle over you like a warm blanket, filling you with a quiet, undeniable joy. You press a kiss to her arm, your heart impossibly full as you continue walking. The night feels surreal, the world around you fading into the background as the two of you bask in the afterglow of what you’ve shared.

By the time you reach the car, Haneul’s head has grown heavy against your shoulder, her soft breaths tickling your neck as she begins to drift off. You carefully lower her into the passenger seat, her sleepy smile barely visible in the dim light. The drive home is quiet, the silence filled with a new kind of intimacy. The memories of the night replay like a vivid dream, each detail etched into your mind.

When you finally reach your place, Haneul is half-asleep, her head resting against the window with a small, contented smile. You carry her inside, her arms draping loosely around your neck as she stirs slightly. As you gently set her down on the bed, she shifts slightly, her lashes fluttering as she blinks up at you.

You brush a stray strand of hair from her face and lean down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Thank you," you whisper, your voice quiet but filled with sincerity.

Her eyes flutter open briefly, and she smiles, her voice barely audible as she murmurs, "For what?"

"For everything," you reply, your thumb tracing her cheek lightly. "For tonight. For… all of it. I’ll never forget it."

Her lips curve into a sleepy smile, and she closes her eyes again, nuzzling into the pillow. "You don’t have to thank me," she whispers, her words fading as she drifts off. "You deserved it."

As you climb into bed beside her, the weight of the night finally settles over you. The events replay vividly in your mind, and you can’t help but smile as you watch her sleep. It’s a memory the two of you will treasure forever.

[totalswag]

midnight adventures — RAFE CAMERON

authors note here's a little something sweet for you guys. soft!rafe will forever have my heart. happy reading lovies.

— taglist if you want to be notified whenever i post leave a comment and you’ll be added.

summary having trouble sleeping throughout the night and text rafe if you can go on a drive to relax your mind

warning(s) trouble sleeping and rafe being the best boyfriend.

"Please sleep," you say to yourself, on the verge of tears, staring at the ceiling and running your hands through your hair with frustration.

It was three in the morning.

You've recently struggled to sleep at night, falling asleep around four in the morning, getting five hours of sleep, and yet feeling exhausted during the day.

Rolling over on your side, a huff escapes your lips as you reach your arm up to the nightstand, where your phones are plugged in. You take it off the charger and call your boyfriend, Rafe.

He responded within five seconds, sounding sleepy and worried. After you've finished stating your sleeping problems, he says he'll be there in ten minutes.

Rafe's truck can be heard from around the corner; a smile forms on your face. You put your slides on and one of Rafe's sweatshirt on then walk downstairs to the front door.

You snuck out of the house quietly and hopped into the passenger seat, greeted by the familiar perfume of Rafe's cologne combined with the subtle aroma of leather.

"Hey," he whispered softly, reaching over to offer your hand a comforting squeeze. "Ready?"

"Yeah," you replied, beaming warmly at him. "Thank you for this."

"Anything for you," he said, turning the truck into gear and driving away from your home turning out of the neighborhood.

He hands you his unlocked phone for music; you're usually on aux in his car. You pick the first song you liked and would set the mood.

You feel his right hand on your thigh, the thumb gently caressing. You let yourself relax under his touch.

"You want to grab something to eat?" He asks out of the blue, checking his shoulder before changing lanes and glancing at you for a response.

"Can we go to the store?" You recommended pointing to the store across the street. 

"Of sure, Baby.”

After getting some snacks, Rafe drove to your favorite spot, the beach. Generally this is your favorite spot to go whenever you want to get away from everything.

Rafe backed into the parking area so you could face the water in the dim light. You took the two blankets he keeps in the second row as he moved around to open your door.

Rafe drew you closer to him once the two of you had settled in. You looked up at him, admiring how blessed you were to have him.

"If you want to kiss me, just tell me," he quips, his eyes fixed on the water. You hit him in the chest, making him laugh, then kissed him.

"What's keeping you up all night princess?" He asks quietly, gently pushing your hair away from your face and examining your expression.

Rafe loathes witnessing you struggle to fall asleep or feel this way. Regardless of the circumstance, he has always been there for you in an instant. You find him most admirable in that regard. You are very fortunate to have him.

"I honestly don't know what's causing it," you shrugged, "stress might be the main factor or something else" was the only response you could give him right now. I'm not sure what is causing you to stay up late and never get enough sleep.

Rafe furrows his brows.

"You know I'd come sleep with you if you had problems falling asleep, and I don't want you to lose sleep. You value your sleep, I know that." You laugh at how much you value your sleep—you really do.

After a while, a few subjects are discussed. A cold breeze blows through the night, and the sound of the waves is calming. You can sense your own body becoming more at ease.

In silence, Rafe and you lay together covered by blankets. It seemed like the ideal moment. You drew closer to him— he also smells good.

"You almost ready to go?" Rafe asks curiously, "I don't want your parents waking up to you not in your bed" you stopped yourself after he finished his sentence, nodding. 

"Yeah we couldn't have that" you joke.

He turned on the ignition after the two of you got comfortable in the truck, allowing it to warm up for five minutes as you had been sitting on the bed with the truck turned off for an hour. 

It took ten minutes to make the drive back to your home. You didn't want to spend the remainder of the night apart from Rafe. Compared to before you saw him, you felt calmer and more content. 

"Can you stay?" If you think about it, what you're asking kindly amounts to pleading.

He replies sarcastically, "How can I refuse?" and then leans in to give you a kiss on the lips before turning off his truck.

Quitely entering your house with Rafe closely behind you. You turned your phone flashlight on incase of running into stuff and waking everyone up.

When you got to your room you took your slides and socks off your feet then flopping on your bed. Rafe took his shirt off along with shoes and socks. You opened your arms waiting for Rafe to get into bed with you.

"Don't worry, I'm coming," he says, placing his shirt on the desk chair across the room.

"Oh, that's what she said," you laugh.

Fake laughing, Rafe says, "Haha so funny" as he slides under the covers.

Snuggling closer to Rafe, you let out a sigh of relief as you kissed his naked chest several times and drew invisible hearts before feeling your eyes close.

You yawn with exhaustion, "Thank you for keeping me company tonight, baby, it means a lot, I love you."

"I love you too princess and that's what I'm supposed to do, take care of my beautiful girlfriend when she's in times like this."

You shared a final kiss with Rafe and then dozed out in each other's arms.

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[yellowbrokenblue]

The Club

Harry is the owner of a very exclusive nightclub, and when a girl he doesn’t recognise walks in, he knows he needs to have her.

cw: smut, exhibitionism, degradation

— ✶ — ✶ —

He spotted her from a mile away. Blonde bouncy curls cascading down her back, and her low cut top paired with a skirt that barely covered anything was almost too much for him to handle. He stood in the corner of the club, a drink in his hand as he watched her.

He didn’t recognise her at all, which was interesting to him as this was famously an exclusive establishment. You had to be on the list which the bouncer had at the entrance to get in. Harry approved of every one ever added to the list, but he didn’t recall adding her.

Harry didn’t do it to be a dick, or to act superior over everyone else. Making his club invite only had its reasons. For example, people came here for a good time- and it was not the ‘drink and dancing’ type of good time. He turned a blind eye to these activities, but the word spread over time about what went on inside. Not that it bothered Harry in any way. Sex was exciting. And if it made people talk, and made people more desperate to manage to get into his club, then so be it.

Curious people made him money.

He watched this girl longer, and the curiosity was clear on her face.

She was looking around, taking in the whole place, until she locked eyes with him. Harry’s eyes stared right into hers, sipping on his drink while her body froze in the middle of the dance floor.

Harry took the opportunity to place his glass on the nearest table, and walk through the crowd of people towards her.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked as he approached her.

He stood as close to her as he could, sliding a hand on her hip.

“Yes.” She replied, her eyes wide, staring into his. “I’m just looking for someone.”

Her voice was shaky as Harry used the hand on her hip to pull her closer.

“Hm?” Harry said, “And who may that be?”

Her attention shifted from Harry to the couple next to them on the dance floor. They weren’t even trying to be subtle about the fact the woman was getting fingered in the middle of a crowd of people, and the girl Harry had in front of him seemed shocked, yet pleasantly surprised at the same time.

Harry leaned down, his mouth brushing against her ear, and whispered, “I don’t remember adding you to the list of people who are allowed to come in my club, which is a shame, really, because I would’ve loved a pretty little thing like you to come in much sooner.”

Her eyes met his again.

“Now,” Harry repeated, “Are you going to tell me why you’re here?”

She swallowed.

“I’d heard people say things.” She said nervously, “I just wanted to experience it for myself.”

“Experience what?” Harry asked, a devilish smirk playing on his lips, “The drinks? The music? Or did you just wanna experience getting fucked in a crowd of people.”

Harry’s crotch pressed against her, his rock-hard cock pressing into her stomach.

She let out a gasp and pressed her hips against him, feeling her skirt ride up as she moved.

“What’s your name, gorgeous?”

“It’s uhm…” Harry tightened his grip on her waist, “It’s Maya.”

“Well, Maya,” Harry said, “Are you going to let me show you a good time?”

She nodded, and Harry was in no mood for time wasting, so immediately his lips were on hers. She tasted sweet, but the thought of fucking her was consuming him, so he began to grind his hips against her, a moan leaving Mayas lips. His mouth traveled down her neck, licking and sucking at her skin. He tasted her perfume as he kissed her, but even then it tasted sweet.

“You never told me your name.” She moaned as Harry kissed her collarbone, his erection still pressed hard against her.

“Harry.” He mumbled back. “Styles.”

His hands were exploring her body as his lips kissed her, and his fingers were slowly creeping up her short skirt.

“Listen to me, Maya. I’m going to make you cum in the middle of all of these people, right here, on my hand. And then I’m going to take you over to that corner and fuck you, because it’s all I’ve been able to think about since you walked through that door.”

She nodded in compliance, desperate to feel him.

He made quick work of finding her clit, moving in quick circles while she groaned against his skin. He slid one finger into her entrance, and then another, pumping his fingers into her while she moaned his name.

“Harry.” She cried, “Oh, yes! Just like that.”

“Can your tight little cunt take another finger?” Harry asked.

She nodded enthusiastically, and Harry inserted a third finger. She was loud, but the people around them didn’t care at all, everyone was engrossed in their own business, not caring what was going on around them.

“You’re so tight,” Harry said, “Can feel you clenching around my hand. I want you to cum now.”

“I’m close.” She moaned, her head falling backwards as Harry pumped his fingers faster.

She cried out as she orgasmed, her sticky cum coating Harry’s hand, and dripping down her leg. She moaned his name over and over, Harry keeping a hand on her waist to hold her steady.

“‘Atta girl.” Harry said, “You just came on my fingers in front of all of these people, bet it made you feel good, huh?”

She nodded.

Harry grinned, bringing his hand to his lips, and sucking on them. Licking her cum right off her fingers.

Her wide eyes watched him, audibly moaning at his actions.

“We’re not done here, yet.” Harry said, as he led her over to the back of the club, towards the bathrooms.

He took a key out of his pocket, and unlocked the bathroom specifically for staff, leading her inside and locking the door behind them again, leaving the key in the lock so no one else would be able to enter from the outside.

He could see her better now, away from the very dim lighting of the club.

Her hair was much lighter than he thought, a bleached blonde with her natural brunette hair creeping through at her roots. Her makeup was smudged from their previous activities, and her outfit was still as flimsy and revealing as it had been outside. The only thing keeping her top on her body was a small tie at the top at the back of her neck.

“You’re a pretty girl, Maya.” Harry said. “How lucky am I that a little whore like you walked into my club tonight?”

Her breathing was heavy, and her cheeks flushed.

“Pull your skirt up,” Harry said, “All the way to your hips.

She quickly done as he said, and Harry unbuttoned his pants, sliding them off.

He guided her to the other side of the bathroom, to where the sink and mirror were.

“I like to see people when I fuck them.” Harry said. “Can I fuck you, Maya?”

She nodded, enthusiastically.

Harry took her wrist and spun her around, so they were both facing the mirror.

“Say it.” He said.

“I want you to fuck me.” She said.

He grinned.

“Ask nicely, and I will.”

“Please fuck me, Harry.” She begged, “I need to feel you.”

Harry grinned, “Much better.“

He reached down to grab a condom from his jeans before throwing them back on the floor, and took off his underwear, letting his erection spring free.

He rolled the condom on, and grabbed hold of Mayas hips, quickly finding her entrance, and pushing the tip of his dick into her from behind.

Her cries of pleasure while he sunk himself deep into her probably could’ve been enough for Harry to cum right there and then, but the moans she let out of her mouth as he quickly thrusted were even better.

She gripped the sink as he fucked her. It was rough, messy. But neither of them cared.

He looked at her in the mirror, her makeup was ruined and her hair was a tangled mess from Harry’s hand gripping onto it.

“You’re taking my cock so well, Maya. So tight, my good little whore.”

She moaned at his words, and he sped up, desperate to make her cum.

The bathroom was filled with the sounds of their moans and their skin colliding, the smell of sex filling the room.

“Harry, I’m gonna cum.” She said.

He wished he had a video of this so he could remember her moans of pleasure for the rest of his life. He wanted to hear her cry out his name while he fucked he from behind forever.

“Cum with me, gorgeous.”

He’d been struggling to hold on since the moment his cock was inside of her, and as soon as she reached her own orgasm, Harry let himself release, pulling out from her and letting his cum fill the condom.

The softened nightclub music soon was the only thing either of them heard while the both caught there breath. Harry slipped his underwear and pants back on, and Maya sorted herself the best she could in the mirror, pulling her skirt back down and wiping away the smudged makeup.

“Where’s your phone?” Harry asked.

Maya turned to him.

“They took everyone’s phones off them at the door.”

“Shit,” Harry said, forgetting about the rule he had set where security thoroughly searched everyone at the entrance for mobile phones or any other recording equipment, and locking it up for the duration of your stay. It was to prevent any pervs videoing people or anyone leaking the ongoings of the exclusive club. “I forgot about that.”

“You got a pen?” Harry asked.

She shook her head, “I think I have an eyeliner pencil in my pocket?”

“Get it out, that’ll do.” Harry said.

She found the pencil, and handed it to him.

“Your arm?” Harry said, grabbing her hand and pulling her arm towards him.

She assumed this was going to be a one time thing, but when Harry began to write a phone number up her arm, she guessed that Harry hadn’t thought the same.

“I want you to come back tomorrow.” He said. “We’re not done here.”

read part two here !

[fullsandwichmiracle]

Entranced by his touch

Paring: Joost Klein x female!reader 

Description: public bathroom sex with Joost

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut, fingering, PnV, unprotected, Sex in Puplic space, being cuaght, one shot

Word count: 1.5K+

You were invited to join Joost and his friend at a club, and you decided to bring some of your own friends along. The night felt electric with possibilities, and you dressed to impress. A short skirt that barely covered you, a black top that revealed a generous amount of cleavage, and high heels to add a bit of height completed your look. You had been with Joost before, and tonight you hoped for a repeat of that excitement.

As you and your girlfriends arrived at the club, the thumping bass of the music welcomed you. The atmosphere was charged with energy. You made a beeline for the bar, ordering a round of shots to kick off the night. The fiery liquid burned its way down your throat, heightening your senses and amplifying your anticipation.

With the shots done, you and your friends headed to the dance floor. The rhythm of the music pulsed through your body as you moved, your eyes scanning the crowd for Joost and his entourage. The lights flashed and bodies swayed, creating a kaleidoscope of colors and motion.

After dancing for a while, you felt a hand wrap around your hips from behind. You turned around, your heart skipping a beat. There stood Joost, a hint of sweat glistening on his brow. He wore a crisp white shirt that contrasted sharply with his sleek black tie and oversized black jeans. His presence was magnetic, and you couldn't help but bite your lip as you took in the sight of him.

His eyes met yours, and the unspoken desire between you was palpable. The night was still young, and the possibilities were endless. You knew you wanted him, and from the look in his eyes, he wanted you too.

"Hey Y/N, so glad you made it," Joost greeted, his voice pulling you from your intense gaze.

"Of course, no one parties like you guys," you said, your voice low and sultry as you took hold of his tie. "Wouldn't miss it for the world," you purred, your fingers teasingly playing with the fabric, a subtle invitation lingering between you.

Joost leaned in close, his lips grazing your ear. "Someone's in quite the mood," he murmured, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

You felt Joost's warm breath against your earlobe, sending a thrill through your body. His closeness intensified the electric tension between you, the pulsing beat of the music fading into the background as you focused solely on each other.

With a playful smile, you leaned back just enough to meet his eyes, your hand still lightly gripping his tie. "Can you blame me?" you whispered back, your voice a mixture of desire and playful challenge.

Joost's gaze intensified, a knowing grin spreading across his lips. "Not at all," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. His hand trailed down your arm in a deliberate caress. "Let's find somewhere quieter."

You followed him into the club's bathroom, closing the door behind you as he swiftly unbuckled his belt. With a swift movement, he took it off and used it to tie your hands behind your back.

With your hands now bound behind your back, Joost pressed you gently against the bathroom door, his body close to yours, the heat between you palpable. His lips found your neck in a hungry kiss from behind, his hands roaming over your body with a confident urgency.

The music thudded faintly through the walls as you responded eagerly to his touch wanting him more. 

Joost's fingers swiftly worked at the zipper of your skirt, sliding it down slowly, his touch sending tingles of anticipation down your spine. His breath was hot against your neck as he whispered, "You dressed all sexy for me, huh?"

You could only moan softly in response, the ache between your legs growing stronger with each passing moment. The belt around your wrists added an exhilarating sense of restraint, heightening the intensity of the encounter.

In the enclosed space, the distant thump of music Joost moved with purpose, his actions stirring a deep yearning within you. Leaning close, his lips brushed against your ear as he murmured, "Tell me what you want."

Your heart raced, and with pleading desire, you responded, "Please, Joost, fuck me."

As the words left your lips, Joost tightened his grip on your wrist. Joost's touch was firm yet tender as he positioned you over the sink, his movements swift and confident. The cool porcelain against your skin contrasted sharply with the heat radiating between you. His breath was hot against your neck as he pressed himself closer, the urgency palpable in every touch and caress. 

His fingertip traced along your slick folds, barely hindered by your panties, eliciting a whimper from you. Your whimper only fueled Joost's desire further. With a hungry growl, he pushed your panties aside, his touch more direct and intimate. His fingers explored you with a skilled precision, each caress sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

As his finger slipped into you, a loud moan escaped your lips, quickly stifled by Joost's other hand. 

"Shhh, we're in public, schatje," he whispered huskily, his fingers maintaining their relentless rhythm inside you, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. With a commanding move, he forced one of his fingers into your mouth, gripping your face tightly to make you look into the mirror.

"Such a pretty little slut," Joost growled, adding another finger, the intensity making you moan desperately into his hand.

Joost's grip tightened as he added another finger, stretching and filling you more intensely. Your muffled moans vibrated against his hand, heightening the raw desire coursing through you. His eyes locked onto yours in the mirror, a predatory gleam in his gaze.

"Look at yourself," he commanded, his voice rough with lust. "See how much you love this."

His pace quickened, each thrust of his fingers more forceful, driving you closer to the edge. The sound of your ragged breathing and the slick, wet noises filled the small bathroom, mingling with the distant thump of the club's music.

Joost pulled out his fingers making you whimper  as his hand caressed your body, his touch both possessive and demanding as he explored every curve. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "I want to hear you beg for it."

Your mind was a blur of pleasure and need, the intensity of his touch driving you to the brink. "Please, Joost," you gasped around his finger, your voice muffled but desperate. "I need you."

A dark smile curved his lips as he met your pleading gaze in the mirror. "Good girl," he murmured. In one swift motion, he pulled down his pants and underwear, positioning himself before thrusting his hard erection into you, causing you to let out a moan no longer muffled by Joost's hand. He continued to thrust inside you, one hand gripping your wrists tightly and the other holding your hip with a possessive force.

You whimpered at the intensity of his thrusts until you heard someone tug at the door and knock. "Can you guys stop fucking? I need the toilet."

Joost chuckled darkly, his pace unrelenting despite the interruption. "Seems like we've got an audience," he whispered in your ear, his breath hot and teasing. The knock on the door grew more insistent.

"Go somewhere else," Joost yelled back, his focus quickly returning to you. Each thrust was deep and commanding.

The knocking continued, but Joost ignored it, driving into you with relentless intensity, his grip on your hip tightening. "Let them wait," he growled, his voice filled with raw desire. The thrill of being caught only heightened the urgency and intensity between you.

Your body responded eagerly, the combination of pleasure and the risk of discovery sending you into a heightened state of arousal. You could barely hold back your moans, each one louder than the last, as Joost pushed you closer to the edge once again. You caught his gaze in the mirror, and as he noticed, he demanded, "Tell me how much you want it," his voice a rough whisper against your ear. Your mind was a whirlwind of sensation, the pleasure overwhelming as you gasped out your response, your voice trembling with need.

"I want it so bad," you cried, your words barely coherent as the pleasure built to a crescendo.

Joost's grin widened at your desperate confession, his thrusts growing even more forceful. "That's my girl," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction.

The intensity of the moment consumed you, your body arching against his with each powerful movement. The sensation was overwhelming, the pressure building inside you until you could no longer hold back. Your cries of pleasure filled the small bathroom, drowning out the persistent knocking from outside.

With one final, deep thrust, Joost sent you spiraling into a mind-blowing climax. Your body convulsed around him, the pleasure crashing over you in waves as you cried out his name. He followed soon after, his own release mingling with yours, the shared ecstasy creating an intense connection between you.

As the echoes of your shared pleasure faded, Joost slowly pulled back, his breath heavy and ragged. He gently untied your wrists, his touch soft and tender now. "You were amazing," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

Still trembling, you turned to face him, your eyes meeting in a moment of mutual satisfaction. Despite the risk, despite the interruption, the intensity of your encounter had left you both breathless 

Joost dried you off with some paper meant for drying your hands before pulling up your underwear from the floor and lightly smacking your ass. “Wanna go out and dance?” he said as he fixed himself.

[yoonavii]

⌕ ʀᴏᴄᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ

⤿ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴢᴏʀᴏ, ꜱʜᴀɴᴋꜱ, ʟᴜᴄᴄɪ, ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴀɴᴊɪ

⤿ ᴢᴏʀᴏ

Zoro’s movements are deliberate and steady. He cradles you in his arms and sways with a slow, rhythmic motion, creating a calming effect.

Zoro doesn’t need words. The quiet rocking motion is his way of expressing comfort and care without the need for verbal reassurances.

As he rocks you, Zoro’s gaze remains focused on your face. There’s a protective and watchful expression as he ensures you feel safe and secure.

Though not known for his singing, Zoro might hum a soft tune or a lullaby under his breath. The sound is low and soothing, adding a touch of warmth to the moment.

Zoro pays attention to your reactions. If he senses you prefer a different rocking speed or motion, he adjusts accordingly to ensure you find the most comfortable position.

In addition to rocking, Zoro may gently stroke your hair or run his fingers through it. This extra touch adds to the overall soothing experience.

Zoro ensures you’re surrounded by a sense of safety. Whether it’s using a blanket to create a cozy nest or adjusting pillows for maximum comfort, he wants you to feel at ease.

Zoro is patient, rocking you until he senses you’ve drifted off into a peaceful sleep. He takes his time, savoring the quiet moments shared.

Once you’re asleep, Zoro transitions you carefully to the bed. He ensures you remain undisturbed and comfortable as he lays you down.

After you’re asleep, Zoro might linger for a moment, watching over you with a quiet and contented expression before tending to his own rest.

⤿ ꜱʜᴀɴᴋꜱ

Shanks sways back and forth in a slow and gentle rhythm. His movements are effortless, creating a soothing and comforting motion.

Shanks is known for his love of music, so he might softly whistle a calming tune or a sea shanty, adding a melodic touch to the rocking.

Shanks keeps a light atmosphere. He might engage in playful banter, sharing stories or making jokes to lighten the mood as he rocks you.

Shanks pays attention to your cues. If he senses a need for a change in rocking speed or style, he adapts to ensure your comfort.

In between the rocking, he might whisper words of affection or reassurance, letting you know that you’re cared for and safe.

Imagine a scenario where Shanks rocks you in a chair on the deck of his ship, the gentle sounds of the sea providing a serene background. XD

Shanks may gently rub your back or stroke your hair, adding a tactile element to the comfort he provides.

Once you’re in a peaceful sleep, he’ll carefully transitions you to the bed. He ensures you’re settled and comfortable before stepping away.

Shanks may linger for a moment, watching over you with a soft smile. His red eyes reflect a deep sense of affection and care.

⤿ ʟᴜᴄᴄɪ

Lucci’s movements are precise and rhythmic, almost like a well-calibrated machine. His rocking has a steady and consistent pace, providing a sense of stability.

He operates in silence. The only sounds you might hear are the subtle creaks of the chair or the ship. He ensures a quiet and peaceful environment.

Lucci maintains a focused gaze, his intense eyes watching over you with a sense of unwavering attention. It’s almost as if he’s standing guard while rocking you.

While rocking, he might occasionally stroke your hair or back, a subtle gesture that reveals a softer side to his usually stern demeanor.

Lucci strategically places the rocking chair in a quiet, dimly lit corner, creating an optimal environment for relaxation.

He exudes a calm and cool aura. The rocking process reflects this, providing a tranquil experience that complements his composed nature.

When it’s time to transition to the bed, Lucci does so with crisp efficiency. He ensures you’re comfortably settled, adjusting pillows and blankets with meticulous care.

Lucci might hum or softly sing lullabies in a composed manner. His deep voice adds a soothing element to the rocking experience.

He remains vigilant even as you sleep. His watchful gaze continues, ensuring your safety and well-being throughout the night.

Lucci might establish a routine for rocking you to sleep, creating a sense of predictability that aligns with his disciplined nature.

⤿ ꜱᴀɴᴊɪ

Sanji’s rocking motion is characterized by a gentle, rhythmic sway. He moves with grace, creating a calming sensation that lulls you into a peaceful sleep.

The room is adorned with softly lit candles, casting a warm and cozy glow. Sanji appreciates the romantic atmosphere, making the rocking session feel like a serene escape.

Smooth jazz music plays softly in the background, adding to the sophisticated and tranquil ambiance as Sanji rocks you to sleep.

He loves the scent of delicious food, so the room is filled with the comforting aroma of freshly baked goods, creating a homey and inviting environment.

The bed is adorned with a plush comforter featuring intricate embroidery. Sanji will ensure that you’re nestled in the softness of the covers during the rocking.

He takes pride in fluffing and adjusting the pillows to perfection, ensuring optimal comfort and support for a good night’s sleep.

He’ll whisper chivalrous and comforting words as he rocks you, creating a sense of security and care.

Incorporating his culinary skills, Sanji might include a gentle foot massage during the rocking session, using soothing oils to enhance relaxation.

Sanji softly hums a calming melody while rocking you, his gentle voice adding an extra layer of tranquility to the bedtime routine.

Sanji might sing or hum soft French lullabies, infusing an air of romance and sophistication into the rocking experience.

Before placing you in bed, Sanji leans down for a gentle goodnight kiss, expressing his care and affection.

A pair of comfy slippers awaits you by the bedside, ensuring your feet touch a soft surface as you transition from rocking to sleep.

He’ll prepare a cup of organic herbal tea known for its calming properties, serving it in a delicate teacup to complement the bedtime routine.

The bed is adorned with silky smooth sheets, providing a luxurious and pampering feel during the rocking session.

Sanji recites soft, romantic poetry or heartfelt words as he rocks you, turning the bedtime routine into a poetic and tender experience.

©𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐈— Any sign/evidence of plagiarism made from outside this name will be dealt with by whatever means necessary. Legal action may occur if non fanfiction works are plagiarized.

[hayatheauthor]

Crafting Sad Scenes: Writing Tears and Emotional Depth

Creating authentic emotions is vital for immersive storytelling, which is why I decided to make this series on how to write different emotions. After exploring rage, it's now time to delve into sadness!

When it comes to portraying sadness, delving into various aspects of your character's behaviour and environment can deepen the emotional impact. Here's a guide on how to evoke sadness in your writing using different elements:

Facial Expressions

Downcast Eyes and Furrowed Brow: Describe how their eyes lower and brows crease, reflecting inner sorrow or distress.

Quivering Lips or Trembling Chin: Note the subtle quivers in their lips or chin, indicating emotional vulnerability or the effort to hold back tears.

Pained or Distant Gaze: Highlight a gaze that's distant, unfocused, or filled with inner turmoil, showing their emotional detachment or deep sadness.

Tear-Streaked or Reddened Eyes: Mention tear tracks or reddened eyes, portraying recent or suppressed crying, enhancing the visual impact of their sadness.

Hollow Cheeks and Sunken Eyes: Describe physical changes like hollow cheeks or sunken eyes, reflecting fatigue, despair, or prolonged emotional distress.

Body Language and Gestures

Slumped Shoulders and Hunched Posture: Show their dejected stance with slumped shoulders and a hunched posture, conveying a sense of heaviness or defeat.

Fidgeting or Clasping Hands: Detail how they fidget nervously or clasp their hands tightly, indicating inner turmoil or a need for comfort.

Absentminded Touching of Face or Hair: Mention absentminded gestures like touching their face or running fingers through their hair, reflecting introspection or sadness.

Slow or Listless Movements: Describe their movements as slow, lethargic, or lacking energy, mirroring their emotional state of sadness.

Avoiding Eye Contact or Retreating: Highlight how they avoid eye contact or retreat from interactions, seeking solitude or trying to mask their emotions.

Dialogue and Inner Monologue

Subdued or Monotone Speech: Show their dialogue as subdued, with a monotone delivery or pauses, conveying emotional restraint or inner pain.

Expressing Regret, Loss, or Longing: Use dialogue to express their regrets, sense of loss, or longing for something or someone, adding depth to their sadness.

Internal Conflicts and Self-Reflection: Delve into their inner monologue, revealing their conflicts, doubts, or self-reflection, showcasing the complexity of their emotional journey.

Using Metaphors or Symbolic Language: Incorporate metaphors or symbolic language in their dialogue or thoughts, enhancing the poetic or introspective nature of their sadness.

Environmental Cues and Setting

Bleak or Desolate Settings: Set scenes in bleak or desolate environments, such as abandoned places or dimly lit spaces, amplifying the sense of isolation or melancholy.

Rainy Weather or Gray Skies: Describe rainy weather, gray skies, or somber atmospheres, mirroring their emotional state and adding a reflective tone to the setting.

Diminished Colors or Lack of Vibrancy: Use descriptions of muted colors or a lack of vibrancy in the surroundings, reflecting the character's subdued mood and emotional depth.

Actions and Reactions

Withdrawing from Interactions: Show them withdrawing from social interactions, seeking solitude, or avoiding activities they once enjoyed, highlighting their emotional withdrawal.

Seeking Comfort Objects or Routines: Describe how they turn to comfort objects or routines, such as listening to music, writing, or engaging in familiar activities, as coping mechanisms.

Emotional Outbursts or Sudden Changes: Portray occasional emotional outbursts, sudden changes in behavior, or moments of vulnerability, revealing layers of their sadness.

Impact on Relationships and Interactions: Explore how their sadness affects their relationships and interactions with others, showcasing the dynamics of empathy, support, or misunderstanding.

Types of Tears and Emotional Triggers

Watery Eyes: These tears often accompany moments of deep emotional pain, such as hearing hurtful words, experiencing profound disappointment, or feeling overwhelmed by sadness. Characters may blink rapidly or struggle to maintain eye contact as tears well up, indicating their struggle to contain their emotions.

Quiet Tears: Quiet tears are silent and discreet, often shed in moments of solitude or introspection. They may occur when a character reflects on past memories, grapples with internal conflicts, or experiences a poignant realization. These tears are a subtle yet powerful expression of inner turmoil.

Full-On Sobs: Full-on sobs involve audible crying, heaving breaths, and visible emotional distress. They typically arise from intense grief, loss, physical pain, or overwhelming stress. Characters may find it challenging to speak coherently or control their emotions during such outbursts, revealing the depth of their emotional turmoil.

Tears of Joy: Tears of joy occur in moments of immense happiness, relief, or heartfelt connection. They often accompany scenes of reunions, achievements, or profound expressions of love and gratitude. These tears symbolize emotional release and the overwhelming experience of positive emotions.

Tears of Empathy: Characters may shed tears of empathy when witnessing others' suffering or hearing poignant stories. These tears reflect their compassion, sensitivity, and ability to deeply connect with the emotions of others, adding layers of empathy to their characterization.

Writing Prompts and Exercises

Write a scene where your character experiences a sudden wave of sadness in a public setting, struggling to conceal their emotions.

Craft a dialogue between two characters, one trying to comfort the other who is deeply saddened by a personal loss or disappointment.

Describe a setting that reflects the mood of sadness, using sensory details to evoke emotions and create atmosphere.

Explore a character's inner monologue as they reflect on past regrets or missed opportunities, expressing their profound sense of sadness.

Create a symbolic object or motif in your story that represents your character's journey through sadness, using it as a recurring theme for emotional depth.

Incorporating these elements can enrich your narrative and evoke powerful emotions in your readers, fostering a deeper connection to your characters and their emotional journeys.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Haya’s book blog where I post writing and publishing tips for authors every Monday and Thursday! And don’t forget to head over to my TikTok and Instagram profiles @hayatheauthor to learn more about my WIP and writing journey! 

[corrupte3d-mindz]

Love ur cillian fics!! Especially the singer ones!! Could you do cillian x younger singer reader inspired by Barry appearing in Sabrina’s please please music video!! Or just Barry and Sabrina in general…

Or

Cillian x younger singer reader inspired by how Taylor changes the lyric to “the guy on the chiefs…” when travis is watching

🌸🌸🌸

Lights, Camera, Cillian

(41)Cillian Murphy x (25)F! Singer Reader

Summary: Cillian gets to be apart of a music video.

Wordcount: 2.7k

Warnings: you're 4'11

soft! Cillian, cocky! Cillian, lovey dovey Cillian, kissing, lap sitting, age gap by 16 years.

Inspiration: Please Please Please - Sabrina Carpenter

The set was alive with the hum of activity, a symphony of controlled chaos, a hive of activity as crew members darted about, adjusting lights and setting up equipment. A controlled chaos that always came with the territory of shooting a music video.

The lights cast a warm glow, creating an ambiance that matched the mood of the song they were filming for: 'Please Please Please.' Crew members moved with purpose, adjusting cameras, perfecting lighting, and setting up props. The director's voice cut through the noise, orchestrating the myriad tasks with the precision of a maestro conducting an orchestra. The air was filled with a mixture of anticipation and the faint scent of coffee, the lifeblood of early morning shoots.

She stood inside the makeup trailer next to the love of her life; Cillian sat in the makeup chair, his posture relaxed yet his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. He had always thrived in front of the camera, but this was different. A music video required a different kind of performance, one that was more abstract and emotive. The makeup artist's brush moved expertly across his skin, adding subtle touches to enhance his natural features. The bright, overhead lights cast a soft glow on his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the deep blue of his eyes.

He glanced her way, who was standing a few feet away, talking animatedly with one of the crew members. She was a vision of grace and beauty, her petite yet chubby frame exuding an aura of confidence and poise. Her chubby cheeks, which he found irresistibly cute, were flushed with excitement, and her eyes sparkled with creative fervor. She turned to look at him and her eyes met his, and she smiled, a gesture that always had a calming effect on him. He returned the smile, though it was tinged with a hint of nervousness.

He couldn't help but smile as he watched her, the corners of his lips twitching upward. Turning his attention back to the mirror in front of him, he quipped, "Haven't been in handcuffs in a while..." His witty remark was accompanied by a playful glint in his eye. Her response was immediate, her expression shifting to one of mock annoyance mixed with embarrassment. "Cill-...hush ..before I duck-tape your mouth shut." Cillian chuckled softly, the sound a deep, rich timbre that resonated in his chest. He met her gaze in the mirror, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Maybe...I'll hush if you give me a kiss, eh'?"

Her reaction was swift, the playful banter eliciting a smile that lit up her face. She crossed the short distance between them, her movements graceful and assured. The makeup artist, sensing the intimate moment, finished her work and discreetly moved to the other side of the room, leaving them in a bubble of privacy amidst the chaos. She reached out, her fingers gently lifting his chin, forcing him to look at her. The touch was soft, yet it held a firmness that brooked no argument. As she leaned in, her lips parting slightly, Cillian felt his heartbeat quicken, the anticipation building between them. He cupped her face with one hand, his thumb brushing over her cheek in a tender caress.

When their lips met, the world around them seemed to blur, fading into insignificance. The kiss was slow and deliberate, a melding of mouths that spoke volumes in its simplicity. Her lips were soft and warm, moving against his with a sweetness that belied the fiery passion lurking just beneath the surface. He deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into her mouth, seeking hers in a dance as old as time. Their tongues met, tentatively at first, then with increasing boldness. The kiss grew more intense, more fervent, as they lost themselves in the moment. Cillian's hand slid to the back of her neck, holding her close, while her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him deeper into the embrace. The connection between them was palpable, a living, breathing thing that seemed to pulse with its own rhythm.

As they kissed, Cillian's mind wandered to the many moments they'd shared, the highs and lows of their relationship. This was just one more layer to their ever-evolving story, a testament to the love and trust that bound them together. The sound of the director's voice calling out that it's time barely registered with the both of them, their focus entirely on each other. Finally, they pulled away, breathless and flushed, their eyes locked in a shared moment of understanding. Cillian smiled, a soft, affectionate curve of his lips that spoke volumes. "That was some kiss," he murmured, his Irish lilt adding a melodic quality to his words.

She laughed, a light, musical sound that sent a shiver down his spine. "Well, I had to shut you up somehow," she teased, her eyes dancing with mirth.

He grinned, his heart swelling with love for the woman before him. "I'm not complaining, love. Not one bit."

The whole crew and everyone else involved were taking a lunch break. She sat comfortably in his lap, her petite frame fitting perfectly against him, her presence a soothing balm to the frenzy of the day. Cillian's phone was resting on her lap, allowing her to read along as he typed. It was a simple gesture of inclusion, a silent communication that spoke volumes about their closeness. Its screen lighting up occasionally with messages. He was responding to texts, but his attention was divided, his focus constantly drifting back to her. Her hand moved gracefully, picking up a plump, red strawberry from a bowl that was on a table next to them and brought it to her lips. She took a delicate bite, the juice staining her lips a deep crimson. The sight was mesmerizing, a small, intimate moment that felt like it was just for them.

She shifted slightly, her gaze catching his. A playful smile curved her lips as she picked up a strawberry from the bowl beside them. "Strawberry?" she asked, her voice a soft murmur as she held the ripe fruit up, turning her head to look at him fully.

Cillian's eyes crinkled at the corners as he returned her smile, a subtle warmth in his expression. He reached up, his fingers brushing against hers as he took the strawberry. The contact was brief but intimate, a silent acknowledgment of their bond. He brought the fruit to his lips, taking a delicate bite. The sweetness exploded on his tongue, a delightful contrast to the faint tang of the earlier scene still lingering in his mind.

"Delicious," he murmured, his accent giving the word a soft, lilting quality. His fingertips lingered against her hand for a moment longer, tracing the delicate lines of her skin. There was something profoundly grounding about these small touches, a reminder of the simple pleasures that made life meaningful.

She giggled, a sound that seemed to lift the weight from his shoulders. "I'm glad you like it," she replied, her tone light and teasing. She leaned back against him, her head resting comfortably against his chest. He could feel the steady rhythm of her breathing, a soothing counterpoint to the frenetic energy around them. He continued to text, his thumb moving deftly over the screen, but his focus was divided. The warmth of her body pressed against his, the scent of her hair mingling with the strawberries, created a cocoon of intimacy that made it hard to concentrate fully. He didn't mind; these moments were precious, a respite from the relentless demands of his career.

"Who are you texting?" she asked, her curiosity evident as she glanced down at the screen.

"Just checking in with my agent," he replied, his voice a low murmur against her ear. "Making sure everything's set for next week's shoot."

She nodded, her fingers idly playing with the hem of his shirt. "You work so hard, Cill." He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. "And you don't? Look at you, running this whole show," he gestured around the set with a tilt of his head, his admiration clear in his voice. She blushed, her cheeks tinged with a delicate pink. "It's different. This is just one video. You do this all the time." He turned his head slightly, his lips brushing against her temple in a tender kiss. "Doesn't make it any less impressive. I'm proud of you."

Her eyes softened, and she shifted to look at him more directly. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the background noise. There was a vulnerability in her gaze that tugged at his heartstrings, a reminder of how much she valued his support. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, the only sounds their breathing and the distant clatter of dishes as the crew finished their lunch. Cillian continued to text, his free hand resting on her thigh, the simple contact grounding him in the moment.

"_______! _______! Over here!" A voice suddenly called out, breaking their serene bubble. Both of them turned toward the source of the voice, their expressions curious. It was one of the directors of her music video, a broad grin on his face as he waved enthusiastically. He held up his phone, capturing a quick photo before turning back to his work.

She wasn't upset by the intrusion; she merely shrugged, a resigned smile on her lips. Their relationship hadn't been officially confirmed to the public yet, and moments like these, while slightly invasive, were to be expected. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of amusement and affection.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Guess our secret is gonna be out," he murmured, his Irish accent adding a musical lilt to his words.

She giggled, popping another strawberry into her mouth. "Oh well, it's not like we were hiding it very well," she replied, her voice light and teasing. "After all you are in this music video..."

Cillian sat in a cold, metal chair, his body tense with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. He was clad in dark jeans and a simple white tank top; that contrasted sharply with the white dress she wore. She lay languidly on the worn couch, the white dress clinging to her curves, the slit in the stomach teasing a glimpse of her soft skin. Her eyes, full of intent and unspoken emotions, locked onto Cillian's. He mirrored her gaze, his hands resting on his head, fingers threading through his hair. His blue eyes held a mix of intensity and seduction, and as he bit his bottom lip, he projected an air of smoldering confidence.

The director called for silence, and the set fell into a hushed anticipation. The music began to play, its melancholic melody filling the air. She started to sing, her voice a sultry, captivating whisper. "If you wanna go and be stupid," she sang, her eyes never leaving Cillian's. The words dripped with a mix of challenge and allure, drawing him in. As she stood up and began to walk toward him, her movements were deliberate, each step echoing with purpose. She held up a pair of handcuffs, the metal glinting in the light, and dangled them in front of his face as she sang, "Don't do it in front of me." There was a playful defiance in her tone, a daring edge that sent a shiver down his spine.

Cillian’s mind raced, thoughts intertwining with the rhythm of the music. He knew his role, every action and reaction meticulously rehearsed, yet the raw energy of the moment made it feel new, almost dangerous. He kept his eyes on her, his breath shallow as she moved behind him, continuing her song. "If you don't wanna cry to my music," she sang, her voice wrapping around him like a silk rope. He dropped his arms as rehearsed, feeling the cold steel of the handcuffs snap around his wrists. Her touch was both gentle and firm, and he exhaled sharply, memories of more intimate settings flashing through his mind. There was a vulnerability in his position, a surrender that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

She picked up a roll of duct tape, and began to walk back to the front of him; her eyes flicking up to meet his as she bent down to meet his eye level. The air between them was electric, charged with the tension of the scene. She tore off a piece of tape; the proximity making his heart race. The world seemed to narrow to just the two of them, the intensity of her gaze, the sound of her voice, the feel of her hands. As she placed the tape over his mouth, he could feel the warmth of her breath on his skin. She cupped his face gently, pressing a kiss to the tape, a gesture that was both tender and taunting. His eyes closed for a brief moment, savoring the sensation, the softness of her touch contrasting sharply with the roughness of the scene. She pulled away from his face leaving a big red kiss mark in the center of the tape.

She walked off camera, her figure disappearing into the shadows, leaving him alone in the frame. The director’s voice broke the silence, "...AND THAT'S A WRAP!" The declaration echoed through the garage, and the crew erupted into applause, the tension of the shoot dissolving into relief and satisfaction. Cillian remained seated, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. The handcuffs were quickly removed, and he rubbed his wrists, feeling the slight indentations left by the metal. She rushed back to him, her eyes sparkling with excitement and pride. The both of them went to hug each other. The crew bustled around, dismantling equipment and discussing the day's shoot, but for Cillian everything else seemed to blur into insignificance. All he could focus on was the woman in his arms, her petite frame fitting perfectly against him, her warmth and presence a soothing balm to his earlier nerves. He cupped her face gently, his fingers grazing the soft, delicate skin of her cheeks. His thumbs traced the gentle curve of her jaw, his touch tender and reverent. Her eyes, wide and filled with emotion, locked onto his, a mixture of relief, pride, and love shining within their depths. She was beautiful, radiating a glow that seemed to light up the entire room.

"Baby, I'm so proud of you," he murmured, his Irish accent giving his words a lyrical, intimate quality. The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable, each word imbued with the depth of his feelings. His eyes, a striking blue, bore into hers, holding her gaze with an intensity that made her breathe catch in her throat.

As he leaned in, time seemed to slow. The noise and movement around them faded into a distant hum, the world narrowing down to just the two of them. His lips met hers with a slow, deliberate tenderness that quickly blossomed into something more powerful, more urgent. The kiss was intense, a mingling of breath and emotion that spoke of their deep connection, their shared passion. In that moment, it was as if nothing else existed. The warmth of her body against his, the taste of her lips, the soft sigh that escaped her as they kissed—all of it combined to create a cocoon of intimacy that shut out the rest of the world. He could feel her heartbeat, quick and steady, mirroring his own, a rhythmic reminder of their bond. When he finally broke the kiss, they remained close, their foreheads touching, breathing in sync. Silence enveloped them, a comfortable, shared silence that spoke volumes. He brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear. His eyes never left hers, filled with a mixture of admiration and adoration.

"You were incredible out there," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You have no idea how proud I am of you."

She smiled, a shy, almost bashful smile that made his heart swell with affection. "I couldn't have done it without you, Cillian. You being here means everything to me."

Author's Notes:

I think I’m getting burnt out guys..ahhh; please forgive me if this is ass.

The other asks are being worked on, I just need to recoup.

I hope I did this right, either I'm dumb which is a really good option; which...yeah that's probably it. But yeah its like a behind the scenes of the music video lolz, I'd had to watch; but I do like the song; 100% helps is she has a behind the scenes video for it so yeahhhh.

[wayfind-er]

10 Ways to Honor Psyche

There is no information about how Psyche was honored in antiquity; therefore, these methods are all my UPGs.

Embrace the Arts & Humanities: Psyche is the Goddess and Personification of the Soul; take some time to study Arts and Humanities. Watch a musical, visit a museum, read up on ancient Philosophy, or do something related to the arts in Her name.

Create a self-care routine in Her honor: Self-care is important to Psyche and to your mental well-being. Consider incorporating Her into your regular self-care routine or making a new routine for Her. I've added sigils of the asteroid Psyche to my skin-care products so that whenever I use them, I am reminded of Her. You can do something similar or come up with something that works for you!

Write a letter to Her (or someone you love): This doesn't have to be anything super complicated. I like to write letters to Her about my week. If something needs to be said to a loved one, you can do that in Her honor, too (e.g., gift cards, letters, telling a loved one something important, etc.).

Watch a reality show (or lifestyle videos on YouTube): There's nothing better than watching reality shows, and Psyche seems to enjoy them. It's a fun way to see an exaggerated version of life. You can watch anything ranging from the trashy reality shows, to cooking shows. If those don't pique your interest, you can watch lifestyle videos on YouTube, too, to honor Psyche.

Dedicate some time to meditate in Her name: Even if it is only 10 minutes, practice mindfulness in Her name.

Spend some time doing shadow work/journaling:  I recommend setting aside, like, 15 minutes and just writing what's on your mind. You can Google shadow work prompts and use one of those or just write about whatever comes to mind. You can dedicate the exercise to Psyche. As a bonus, if you're feeling up to it, you can then read what you wrote to Her (either aloud or in your head).

Hang out with your loved ones: Just spend time with the people you love. You don't need to do anything special or fancy. If you love someone, you should spend time with them. Psyche would be happy if you did that in Her honor.

Spend time unwinding and relaxing: Sometimes, doing nothing is harder than being ultra-productive. You don't always /NEED/ to be doing something in Her honor. If you can't take a break, do so in Her name. You and Her could both probably use it.

Dress up in Her Honor (even if you're dressing up to stay home): Psyche loves nice things and feeling pretty. Put together that cute outfit you've been thinking of, and try on those shoes that are a bit bolder than you'd usually like; dress up and expand your horizon some. **If you can't afford to experiment with your clothes, consider making a vision or mood board of the style you'd like to try.

Learn about a new/different culture: Psyche is the Personification of the Soul and seems very interested in learning about people. Consider learning about a different culture than the one you live in. It may be the culture of your ancestors or a culture that just seems interesting to you. Consider watching videos on different cultures or reading scholarly papers with primary sources.

I tried to list some unique ways to Honor & Worship Psyche that I use in my practice. There are a bunch of other lists that come with different suggestions. If you haven't already, I recommend @/khaire-traveler's Subtle Worship of Psyche, and @/differentsoulsweets' Introduction to Psyche blog. Star and dot divider by @/cafekistune

[quizzicalwriter]

can you please do a johnny cade x fem!reader smut where they decide to use toys (and there's a lot of squ!rt!ng involved?) ty!

Sunny

Pairing: Johnny Cade x Fem!Reader

Summary: A searing heat wave leaves Johnny with new ideas on how to beat the heat.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Temperature-play, fingering, oral, all that good stuff.

A/N: Thank you for the request! (Also I know it’s not technically toys, but I figured this would work! If you want a full-on toy fic with Johnny just shoot me an ask and I’ll write it!)

Word Count: 3.4k

“It’s 12:05, this is Lee Bayley on Tulsa’s KAKC with the sounds of sunshine!”

Sunshine your ass, whatever hung heavy in the midday sky felt more like a blazing inferno rather than the dainty sun you’d painted in the corner of your childhood drawings. You couldn’t bring yourself to be too peeved at the radio host, the man was likely indoors under heavy air conditioning.

At least he was a damn good DJ, nobody else seemed to be playing a mix of Santana and Van Morrison, not so early in the day anyhow. The hum of bass and methodical drums filled your one-bedroom apartment, the rare wind gust blowing your window blinds against the siding of your wall.

Johnny had hardly given you a moment to beg for a cold shower together before he’d pressed a kiss to your temple that morning, whispering words you didn’t quite catch - all you’d truly caught in your overly hot and tired state that morning had been his promise of something cold when he got back.

You rolled yourself off the muggy bed, kicking your feet in frustration as the top sheet tangled itself around your ankle, as if silently begging you not to leave it under the prying eye of the sun. You were in no mood, so with a grunt you rolled onto the floor, body emitting a soft thud as you came in contact with the shag carpet below.

In nothing but your underwear and an old beaten shirt of Johnny’s you trudged your way into the kitchen, opening up all the windows on your way through the apartment. Your radio softly hummed from your bedroom, some song you didn’t entirely recognize, but found yourself swaying your hips to nonetheless as you bent over to seek something cool in your fridge.

Surprise, surprise. There was nothing. Unless you counted the half-eaten clementine on the right side of the fridge, sitting all pitiful against a half-gallon of milk. As anyone would in their right mind when faced with overbearing summer heat, you closed your refrigerator and opened your freezer, crossing your arms against the frigid plastic before resting your cheek against your propped arms.

The freezer motor buzzed to life, adding to the already abundant noise of the city below pouring through your open windows. You continued humming to the faraway music sounding from your bedroom, losing yourself in the abundance of cool air as you shut your eyes. You’d likely have fallen asleep standing up if it hadn’t been for the slam of the front door, followed by a sing-song whistle, one you knew by heart.

“In here!” You called, not daring to move from your self-created frozen heaven.

“Freezing yourself?” Johnny asked through a gentle laugh, placing down two armfuls of paper bags. You only hummed in reply, tilting your head to the other side to give him a brief smile, one he returned in earnest despite the subtle redness against his cheeks.

“Got you somethin’.” He murmured, tone playful as he moved over to you. Your eyebrows lifted in intrigue, curiosity getting the better of you as you moved from the freezer, the door slamming shut behind you as you leaned against the kitchen counter.

“And what’s that?” You asked with a smile.

“A treat.” He responded, rifling through the paper bags before handing you a cup that he’d so diligently wrapped in another paper bag. “Told you I’d get you somethin’ this mornin’, treat to beat the heat - or whatever the hell they say on those commercials.”

You would’ve groaned at his poor imitation of the commercial that plagued your television set, but you couldn’t focus on anything other than the ice-cold treat in your grasp. With a giddy laugh, you flipped the top off, an audible, and admittedly dramatic moan leaving you as you spooned a hefty amount of the Icee into your mouth.

“Good right?” He asked, hand gently pushing your hip from the drawer behind you to fetch himself a spoon, digging in alongside you as you nodded. Icee’s were certainly a good way to cool your body down, and you definitely didn’t mind watching as Johnny moved beside you, tilting his head back in cold-induced euphoria.

“Very good.” You murmured around your plastic spoon, eyes watching him intently as he scooped another spoonful of the slushy into his mouth. Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the way his face looked when flushed - either way, you were burning up and the Icee was doing little to quell the heat pooling in your stomach.

Oblivious to your plight, Johnny’s eyebrows lifted, metal spoon still in his mouth as he turned around to free a hefty bag of ice from one of the paper bags. You hummed in thanks around your spoon, earning you a quick nod as he pushed the bag toward the back corner of the freezer.

You placed the half-empty cup down behind you, hands slick and wet with condensation. You took your chance, slinking yourself behind Johnny, giving him no time to duck away before reaching your hands up and underneath his shirt, splaying your cold hands against his warm muscles.

“Jesus-“ He cried out, back arching away from your hands as he reached behind himself, pained words turning into pleading laughter as he turned himself around. “Quit it!”

He had more than enough strength to wrestle your arms snug against himself, ensuring you wouldn’t be able to torture him with your overly cold fingertips. But he loved the way your smile would crinkle the skin beside your eyes, how your nose would scrunch. It was precious to him, worth the goosebumps that raced across his skin, the droplets of cool water that raced down to the hem of his jeans - all of it.

In a bid to have you more pliant, he grabbed your forearms, pulling them around himself. You continued laughing, head falling back as you smiled up at him through your laughter-induced tears. He returned your smile, eyes focused on yours as you steadied your breaths. His hands dropped from your arms, instead moving to cup your jaw as he leaned down to press his lips to yours.

The taste of artificial cherry soared across your tastebuds, along with a sudden chill at the coldness of his tongue. You lifted your arms, draping them around his neck as your tongue moved with his, goosebumps spreading up your forearms at both the fading chill of his tongue paired with the burning lust settling heavily in your lower stomach.

His hands moved from your jaw, tracing along the curve of your waist before resting against the swell of your ass. He gave the plush flesh a harsh squeeze, pulling a surprised squeal from you, one that made him smile into your kiss before resuming his movements.

The bedroom wasn’t far away, but he had no patience, not when you were standing half-dressed in front of him - in his shirt, no less. His fingers toyed with the hem of your underwear, brushing his fingertips along your mound as he nipped at your bottom lip.

“Couch?” He asked, pulling away a fraction to gauge your reaction. When you nodded he backed away, watching with an amused smile as you ran toward the living room. Rather than follow behind you, he turned toward the freezer.

You sunk into the warm fabric of your couch, shallow breaths leaving you in droves as anticipation wore you thin, causing you to soak the thin fabric of your underwear. He reappeared with a glass filled to the brim with ice, condensation already fogging the bottom where his hand rested.

“Gotta cool you down, right?”

You nodded as he moved to sit beside you, placing the glass down on the adjacent coffee table. He then dipped his fingers into the glass, curling the digits around two cubes of ice. Two fingers kept one held firmly against his palm as he held the other between his thumb and index finger, maneuvering himself between your legs, free hand helping your legs to drape over his lap.

“Trust me?” He asked as cool water dropped onto your bare thigh from his palm. You nodded, breath catching in your throat at the plethora of ideas that soared through your mind. He caught your excitement with a smile, his free hand moving to cup the underside of your jaw, tilting your head back to meet his gaze.

“Open your mouth.” He ordered, words careening on the edge of inaudible as he trailed an ice cube around the fullness of your bottom lip. You obeyed, eyes fluttering as you parted your lips. He smiled down at you, finding himself proud of how quickly you listened to him. “Good girl.”

You tilted your head back, allowing him to push the ice farther into your mouth, watching as his eyes focused on how quickly the ice melted against the heat of your tongue.

The sight of your tongue twitching underneath the ice, cold water dripping from the corner of your lips, Johnny couldn’t help himself as he leaned down to connect your lips to his. His hand grasped your jaw, fingers threading through your hair as his tongue met yours.

The steady drip of cool water against your waist pulled you away, goosebumps chasing the droplets in earnest. Johnny murmured an apology against your lips, hardly backing away an inch before his hand smoothed underneath your shirt, lifting the fabric up and over your head.

He took the half-melted ice cube between his fingers, placing it in his mouth as he situated himself between your thighs. He looked up at you through his eyelashes, ice perched between his lips. You could only watch as he lowered himself, bitter cold making contact with the hollow of your stomach. He trailed his lips downward, goosebumps rising along your skin. Cool droplets of water headed down the side of your stomach, leaving you involuntarily arching from the couch as his hands kept your hips steady.

“Johnny-“ You whined, feeling your arousal coat the thin fabric of your underwear. He ignored your plea, instead hooking his fingers into the hem of your underwear, slowly pulling them down in tandem with his movements. You could feel him inching closer to your aching cunt, his right hand pushing your thighs apart, pinning your knee to the backrest of the couch.

You’d expected him to give in, to give you the pleasure you’d so desperately sought after. Instead, he sunk lower onto the couch, trailing the ice onto your inner thighs. You shivered, soft moans falling from you as droplets of water glided down to your cunt. Every so often his gaze would meet yours, the desperation hidden beneath his eyes becoming more ravenous with each passing second.

He propped himself up on his arm, plucking the ice from between his lips. It dripped down his forearm, accidentally causing water to smear against your inner thighs. In a makeshift apology for having teased you for so long he leaned down, right hand held away from your body as he pressed featherlight kisses against your damp inner thighs. You hadn’t the mind to be frustrated, only wanting his lips, fingers, or anything he’d give you.

“Been so patient.” He murmured after placing another open-mouthed kiss on your inner thigh. “So proud of you.”

Before you could conjure a response he shifted between your legs, brushing the edge of the ice against your clit. You gasped, hips bucking down against the couch. His free hand moved back to your hip, holding you steady as he continued swirling the ice against your aching clit. You were left writhing under his hold, mind muddled by the pleasure and lack of release.

In an act of mercy, he tossed the ice to the floor, hands splaying against the underside of your thighs, fingertips freezing against your skin. You rested into his hold, shifting your hips to bring yourself closer to him. He responded to the movement with a smile and a kiss to your thigh, trailing his lips downward until he reached your cunt. The heat from his lips burned, the shift in temperature drastic enough for your hips to buck up into his touch.

His tongue delved between your folds, your arousal coating his tastebuds, the taste pulling a groan from deep within his chest as he swirled his tongue around your clit. The feeling of his tongue against you paired with the obscene sounds of him sucking your clit into his mouth left you whining, hardly able to manage a measly breath as he flicked his tongue against your clit.

Your fingers threaded through his thick hair, the placement of your hands giving you enough balance against the couch cushions to rut up against his tongue. He never backed away, letting you use his mouth as he tried his damndest to keep up with the desperation-fueled bucks of your hips. His middle and ring fingers spread your folds, allowing him to lick a stripe up your cunt before he focused his attention back on your clit, swirling his tongue around it as he pushed his fingers into your cunt, curling them upward to brush against your g-spot.

“Fu-uck.” Was all you managed at the combination, word breathless as he thrusted his fingers into you, syncing his movements with his tongue. Your hips rocked down against the digits, pushing them deeper into your cunt, the depth causing your cunt to squeeze around his fingers. He groaned at the feeling, the vibration of his voice centered around your clit. You could feel your lower stomach tensing, thighs trembling in his hold as he lapped at your cunt.

He could feel your orgasm building before you’d even registered it, too blinded by the onslaught of pleasure to recognize your cunt fluttering around his fingers, how your breaths had become short gasps of his name, your grasp on his hair tightening to an almost painful degree. His free hand moved to your lower stomach, pressing down against the plush skin as he continued pumping his fingers into you, massaging that spot within you that left you trembling.

“C’mon, baby,” he whispered, begging you to come undone against his tongue and around his fingers. You gave him his wish with a broken cry of his name, back arching from the cushion of the couch, your hips jerking as he continued his ministrations. His pace sped up, the pleasure almost brutal as he helped you through your orgasm. You could feel your juices dripping down the cusp of your ass, soaking the fabric beneath you.

His lips and chin glistened underneath the overhead light, the sight making you flush as he wiped his skin dry with the hem of his shirt, pulling the fabric off of himself afterward. You leaned up, thighs shaking with the movement as your hands found the front of his jeans. He looked down at you, lips parted as his breaths came in shuddering gasps. You kept his gaze as you unzipped his jeans, fingers sliding against the worn denim. You could feel his cock straining against the material, his chest heaving with each touch of your fingers against his shaft, no matter how featherlight.

You slunk your hand into the fly of his jeans, flattening your palm against the shaft of his cock, fingertips settling at the base as you leaned up onto your knees, pressing your lips to his in a searing kiss as you swallowed the moans that left him at the feeling of your hand slowly moving along his aching cock. You’d hardly been able to wrap your fingers around him before he’d pushed you back onto the couch, right hand moving to cup the underside of your thigh, hiking it up to rest against his lower back.

“Please-“ You whined against his lips, hands eagerly pushing his jeans down his hips.

He leaned down onto his left arm, propping himself up as he wrapped his hand around his cock, pumping himself languidly as he swiped his tip along your soaked folds, finding himself unable to stop the groan that reverberated in his chest at the warmth of your cunt against him.

Your eyes met his in a silent plea for him to fuck you, to extinguish the fire burning heavy in your lower stomach, the very feeling that left you dripping, clenching around nothing as he teased you with the tip of his cock.

“Johnny-“ You panted impatiently.

With a roll of his hips, he bottomed out inside of you, stretching you out blissfully. The tip of his cock brushed against your cervix, causing your hips to twitch as you grew accustomed to his size. You two fucked often, yet every time you had to give yourself a moment to readjust to his size, not that he minded - if anything he seemed to love the sight of you squirming beneath him, lips parted as you took in shaken gasps while your cunt squeezed around him.

“Alright?” He asked as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, leaning back to level his eye-line with yours. You nodded, giving him the reassurance he needed to pull his hips back, dragging his cock out of you before pushing back in, the lewd sound of your cum coating his shaft filling the shared silence between you.

Your legs tightened around his hips, the heels of your feet digging into his lower back, pushing him deeper into you in tandem with each thrust of his hips. Your eyes stayed locked with his, pupils blown, irises sharing every emotion you couldn’t put to words while overcome with such intense pleasure.

His pace was slow, methodical, ensuring he brushed against each spot inside of you that left you rolling your hips with his, wordlessly begging for more. With a kiss to your temple, he slunk his hand down between your damp bodies, circling his middle and ring finger around your clit.

A gasp rasped from your lungs as your head fell back against the cushion of the couch, the combination of his cock and fingers leaving you a mess of whimpers and heavy breaths. He watched you, face flushed a reddish hue from both the heat and the feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock each time he bottomed out inside of you.

You could feel your juices dripping down the cusp of your ass, warm and wet, stark in comparison to the remnants of water that lingered against your chest and stomach. His fingers picked up in their pace, the change pulling a drawn-out moan from you as your eyes squeezed shut, feeling your lower stomach tense.

“Johnny-“ You whined, words trembling.

“I know.” He replied, closing the distance between you with a chaste kiss to your lips before he trailed his lips down to your jaw. His cock twitched as his hips rocked forward, pace hastening as he felt your cunt fluttering around him. “I know, baby.”

With a sharp cry of his name, you were cumming around his cock. He trailed open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your throat, each one interrupted by a choked-back grunt as he fucked you through your orgasm.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down against you as he rutted into you, tiny breaths and whines of your name tumbling past his lips. He tried to muffle the noises by burying his face in the crook of your neck, but you heard them all the same, each noise causing your cunt to squeeze around him.

“Fuck, I-“ He breathed, eyebrows screwed together as he pushed himself up onto his left arm. He abruptly pulled out of you, the feeling of being empty leaving you whimpering as he pumped himself through his orgasm, spilling himself onto your lower stomach with a grunt of your name.

He collapsed onto you, placing light kisses against your throat in between whispered praises, his right hand smoothing up the side of your waist, fingers tracing delicate patterns against your skin as you both caught your breath.

“Definitely didn’t help us cool down.” You laughed out, looking over to him before pressing a kiss to his forehead. He hummed in response, a lazy smile evident on his face, absolutely glowing in post-coital bliss.

“Can always take a shower.” He murmured against your skin, eyes flickering up to meet yours. You knew by his glance that neither of you would be getting clean in that shower, but who were you to turn an opportunity like that down?

“Deal.”

A/N: Did I listen to a radio track just to get a line from an old Tulsa station? Yes, yes I did. It’s a shame radio ain’t as popular as it used to be, and it’s a damn shame rock stations don’t play classic rock half as much as they used to. Anyhow, I hope you all enjoyed this! It ain’t hot outside where I am, but I certainly miss southern summers enough to write about ‘em! Thank you all for the countless love and support you show me and my work, I appreciate you all so much!

[mochilatae]

Everybody Here Wants You (Namjoon x Fem Reader)

Word Count: 8.92k (ish)

Pairing: Namjoon x Fem Reader/YN

Rating: 18+/Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Standing/wall sex, flirting, alcohol consumption, oral sex (you receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, multiple/implied squirting orgasms, nipple biting/sucking, kissing, intense sex, tension, hair pulling, scratching.

Genre: PwP, Strangers to lovers

AUs: None

Summary: You're traveling for work and it's the same old grind. You stop for a drink and some people watching but eventually discover you aren't as invisible as you think.

Author’s Note: Based on a song and inspired by an idea from @worldwideseal.

The usual: ignore typos or any other 'errors' you may find and just enjoy the story. Thank you for reading!

If you like it and want to leave a kudo, please feel free. Reblogging is appreciated but never required.

Tag List: @kiestrokes @askkrisachan

The bar air was warm when you stepped inside.

The difference was a welcome relief to the chill that built up on the walk from the hotel. In spite of all the places you’d traveled throughout the fall and winter seasons, the cold was one thing that could still take you by surprise.

At least this time you’d remembered an overcoat and added it to the others on hooks near the door a moment later. Coats had owners. That meant people socializing, which wasn’t a bad thing–even if you weren’t in the mood for conversation. It beat another night in the hotel room, staring at the TV and going through 200 channels with nothing appealing to watch.

That was the one thing you’d learned in the entirety of your travels across the country so far: you alone, staring at a wall was NOT a good combination. 

Finding your way further into the bar space, you looked around again, taking a little extra time to note shapes and bodies. People were seated at tables all around. There was a calm murmur underpinning the vague sound of music coming from a jukebox in the farthest right corner. 

The figures at the bar glanced your way with impassive stares. A few seated patrons gave a cursory nod in passing. Eyes followed you all the way to where you’d stopped: the end of the bar closest to the small dance space in front of the jukebox. 

The bodies there still swayed to the music as you turned your back on the view, bracing an elbow on the bar edge. The bartender was already headed your way and matched your leaning posture, smiling briefly.

“What do you need tonight?” 

You scanned the shelves behind him and vaguely pointed. “The Prosecco on the 3rd shelf there—any good?”  

He didn’t look back and his smile changed his features, reaching his eyes finally. There was a subtle sag in his shoulders. Clearly he hadn’t determined you to be a pain in the ass and that was a relief. You wondered how many difficult customers he got each night. The weary and cranky ones from travel, stressed about a missed or canceled flight and looking to take it out on the first inconvenience they encountered.

People could be awful about their liquor. 

Compared to that all you wanted was a corner seat, in the dark with a good sparkling wine. There wasn’t much more of a simple fix for your occasional bad mood. 

“I don’t have many requests for it, but–” He shrugged and picked a wine glass and set it on the counter. “--It’s a good choice, if you ask me.” 

You grinned, watching as he twisted his wrist, working the corkscrew end of the opener deep into the cork. Eventually you replied. 

“Well…I did. I’ll give it a shot.” 

“Sounds good.” He tipped the bottle and poured just under a half portion then paused, glancing briefly. “...More?” 

You squinted, having a moment of debate before you nodded, making a tiny pinching gesture. “Maybe just a little bit.. It’s been a long day.” 

“I hear that a lot..” He chuckled, carefully pushing the glass towards you. Once he’d put the bottle back and returned, there was another lull as he leaned both arms against the bar top and watched you bring the rim to your lips.

It was hard to tell what the color was as you let the first mouthful swill over the back of your tongue. This bar lighting played tricks, giving goldenrod and rose hues to the bubbling liquid swilling in the glass. 

“Thoughts?” He asked, both brows raised slightly. Despite not smiling, he had a hopeful, curious look. You were a little fonder of this bartender compared to others in cities around the country. He didn’t act jaded enough about human interaction to have been at this job for a long time.  

You set the glass down again, swallowed quickly, then wiped at the lingering tickle in your nose. The wine bubbles were doing a mischief and you hadn’t quite gotten used to it. 

“It’s good. I’m not a wine expert, but.. I could buy a bottle of this for my place.” 

“And where is that?” 

“Pardon?” You grabbed a napkin, dotting your lips dry. 

“Your place–the city. Where are you from?” He WAS going the extra mile. Not that he needed to. You’d planned to tip, closing the tab later. 

“Are you always this friendly with patrons or is it just my lucky night?” You blinked, then leaned back a little, hands lightly gripped on the bar edge. It wasn’t that you could even help asking–this kind of interest and friendliness was rarer than a 2 dollar bill in your travels this month. The bartender smirked and stood upright slowly. 

“The crowd’s a little thin tonight and you didn’t look stressed so I figured it was worth making some conversation. Hope that’s okay?” As he spoke, the man kept his hands busy, rearranging glasses, body still facing you. The pattern of clinks and thunks while his hands were out of view told you he was doing the busy work stuff–another endless part of his job, no doubt. 

“I don’t mind it. To be honest I haven’t met a bartender who even talked to me beyond the drink order in all the places I’ve been lately.” Saying the city name, when it finally left your lips, brought his eyes back up, shining with curiosity again. 

“I haven’t been there. Is it as low energy downtown as this city?” 

“You want more action? I guess you could say don’t go there if you do–there are busier cities. Like…I don’t know..LA. Baltimore…wherever the mode seems to be 24/7.” It wasn’t your thing. You preferred a hometown pace–calm and steady. Even if that meant trading the excitement of keeping your mind and senses busy with people or places. 

“Don’t necessarily like that city nightlife stuff either. The pace is a bit…much. But I can say sometimes it would just hit the spot to go out and be crazy for a few hours. Ever feel that way?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “I find those urges are a little quieter traveling so much like I do. But..the money is good and I can’t complain. I get plenty of vacation time every year. My flight miles account balance has never been higher.” 

The bartender gave a warm chuckle. “I like that attitude.” A brief pat on the bar, then he half turned away as a figure approached the other end of the bar. “I’ll be here if you want another glass or get the urge to try anything else on the shelves.” 

“Thanks…” You smiled back and picked up the wine glass again. Although you’d only taken two decent sips, it was nearly down to half again. Another mouthful went down your throat and you continued. “..I guess you would probably get sick of the whole bar scene seeing as it’s your job.” 

“It does wear on me sometimes. The busier parts of the travel seasons make it an uphill battle but I can’t say I’m mad at the money I make.”

“Speaking of which..” Your hand went for your clutch, resting nearby. Digging around inside you eventually came out with cash. A folded wad of bills that looked impressive. Counting a few out, you laid them on the bar and pushed them his way. 

This time he looked at the money, then his eyes came up. “You don’t have to.” 

“I’m not a fan of zero tips.” 

“I’m already ahead for the night.” You couldn’t be sure if he was telling the truth on that as it didn’t look like a very busy night from your perspective, but you’d only been here for a short while and more customers had come in. 

“I’ll leave it here. You can take it or maybe someone with sticky fingers will do you the favor and help themselves.” Adding a playful wink, you turned away with glass in hand. Clutch in the other hand, you stood up fully and turned towards the music that suddenly didn’t seem so bland or muted. 

This place had good wine and a great selection on the jukebox. You’d have to remember it when you came through again–whenever that happened to be. As you sauntered towards the dance space the bartender called out a ‘Thanks’. 

----------------------------------------------------------------

“You didn’t dance.” 

You’d reached for your coat when the voice spoke at your back. The only person who’d spoken to you before was the bartender and this DEFINITELY wasn’t his voice. You looked over one shoulder.

No mistaking: this was not the bartender either. Silly you, thinking it would be and he’d somehow changed his voice. Could the Prosecco be that strong to warp your perception? You had every drop in the glass but it wasn’t a full serving. 

You turned fully to face the man who’d spoken to you. No doubt who he’d approached and talked to: you were the only person in the entrance space by the door. All the other coats had gone home with their owners. Or back to hotels—wherever they went, you were alone now. 

Or so you’d thought.

The bartender had become a friendly shadow, slowly moving from one end of the bar to the other as he cashed out the lingering customers. Eventually the bar was as empty as the dance  space and all the tables. 

“Excuse me?” You were openly bewildered and whoever this man was, he didn’t seem to take it personally, based on the genial but measured smile on his face. 

“The music… You stood over there by the jukebox and didn’t dance. Not a fan of the music?” 

You looked across the way, to the dark shape that was formerly bathed with electric colors and humming all night with music that turned out to be not too shabby. A few songs even had your hips swaying but you’d figured no one cared enough to look. That’s what you got for assuming.

“I’m not into dancing in public much..” You immediately regretted the complete bullshit that just streamed from your lips and focused on squeezing the woolen fabric in your grasp. 

“Unusual place to be then–near the jukebox.. Is that like tempting yourself by sitting near the desserts at a buffet when you’re on a diet?” 

“Okay,” You sighed. “..That was a lie. I guess I just didn’t have anyone to dance with so I didn’t bother.” 

“That’s a shame.” After he paused and glanced at his watch, the man looked towards the jukebox, now cooled against a shadowed corner. 

“It is closing time anyway..” You began anew, working to finish putting the coat on. The man’s cough caught your attention and you looked over, surprised to find his eyes on you again.

He was pleasingly tall–dark eyes and dark hair almost the same shade. It was far too hard to tell if the color was black or brown in this minimal lighting. 

“It is.” He agreed. 

“Time to go.” You hinted. Outside those doors was the promise of a darker, slightly colder walk to the hotel and your unit on the third floor. At least this place had a working elevator. 

“..I wanted to dance too.” 

“Hmm?” You’d finally pulled your coat on, hesitating. This guy was still talking to you–for real. You looked around him, tickled in a strange way at how far you had to lean in order to see the bartender far beyond with his back to the place as he stood at the open till. 

“I didn’t have a partner either. Would you like to dance?” 

“Didn’t you just agree that it was closing time?”

“Yes.” 

“So that means no more drinks. No more music. No more food. We leave, like everyone else, and call it a night.” 

“I don’t think I want that.” He responded, dark brows going even over his eyes without any menace. There was a kind of determination in his narrowed stare. You didn’t quite know how to question it so you went with the common sense angle again.

“Unless you’re the owner, it’s not about what you or anyone else wants. We’re customers and this place is closed. I’d rather not get trespassed and spend the night in jail. My room at The Green Tree is acceptable. I’ve got a lot of traveling to do tomorrow and the risk versus reward is a bit more than I’d care to entertain tonight, in all fairness.” 

The man smiled wider, looking you over with a measure of enjoyment. Whether it was something you said or how you’d said it, he seemed impressed. And you had to admit, you liked bowling over strangers. It served you well in business. 

“Well put. Is there any chance that you’d dance with me somewhere else?” 

“You’re starting awfully late to try and pick me up.” You teased, equally surprised but more delighted than he’d been at the boldness and timing. You’d been hit on before–that wasn’t a new thing.

“I’m not sure. I honestly just want to dance. I saw you were alone and I’m alone. My timing isn’t the best, but…” He paused and looked again towards the jukebox.

“If I can get the okay, would you dance with me? Just one dance. I can’t explain but it would just close the night up so perfectly.” 

You took another look at this man, from head to toe. It was a long way to go as he proved a good deal taller but he was well dressed in dark slacks and a button up. If he’d walked here too, he was going to be chilly strolling back to his home or motel or…wherever without something more to cover up. 

“How were you planning on getting the go-ahead for this dance?” 

“The bartender is still here. I’ll ask. Doesn’t hurt to try.” 

You watched as the man turned and made his way to the bar. The bartender paused and glanced back. After a moment of what you assumed was the strangest conversation he’d probably had this week, the bartender nodded.

When the man returned he wore the most relaxed, pleased smile that showed a perfect set of dimples,mirroring each other on each cheek. Your mouth hung open a little as the man spoke. 

“We’re good for one dance. Come on..” 

Disbelief flowed through you watching the overcoat return to a hook. When the man held out his arm, you took it and walked with him. The corner he led you too looked much bigger when empty, even full of shadows. 

“I think we should get on a first name basis, at a bare minimum.” You suggested, watching as the man walked to the jukebox and felt around the back. It was more than a few seconds before a neon glow fired in all directions, washing the dance space in a rainbow of colors as the machine came alive. 

“First names… Reasonable enough. You can call me Namjoon.” The man replied, standing again, then dipped a hand into his pocket while the other arm braced across the jukebox. He scanned the selection menu and you heard the familiar, muffled jingle of change shifting.

You smoothed hair away from your forehead with an even sigh, feeling the first twinge of nervousness in the silence. “Well..Namjoon, I’m Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.” 

Eyes narrowed, he continued to debate. Namjoon was taking this more seriously than you would have, given what was likely a spur of the moment decision. “The options on this thing are impressive. …Do you have a preference?” He said.

You tried peeking at the options but only made out glowing white and the unintelligible scrawl of black print. Time to throw caution to the wind. It wasn’t like you’d paid much attention to the music the whole time you’d been here earlier. 

“Not really. This was your idea.” You managed a quick smile. 

Meeting Namjoon and taking him up on his offer was enough of a surprise that you could do without the added pressure of deciding for you both when you didn’t know anything about him at this point. Musical preferences could be a very touchy thing. 

A quarter dropped into the coin slot and Namjoon stabbed one of the many buttons, then turned your way and held out a hand. It was a slow stroll to the empty dance space. As he drew close and looped an arm around your middle you stole one last quick look around, still not quite believing this was happening OR that everyone was really gone, except for the helpful bartender.

A gentle tug at your mid section drew your eyes to his as Namjoon began to lightly sway to the music starting to swell. Without the crowding voices of other bar patrons the music seemed much louder and filled the space impressively enough to chase away everything else around you both. 

“Hey..” Namjoon gently chuckled. “...Bad choice or—?”

“No.” You quickly shook your head and fingers curled around his palm as it cupped your hand. It was more of a nervous reaction than anything else but his brow still lifted quizzically. You pushed on, focusing on matching his steps but keeping passive enough to let him lead. 

“What is it?” 

“Nothing..” You replied. “I just… It’s not every night I end up dancing with a stranger in a bar after closing.”

“Well..I guess there’s always a first. You HAVE danced with a stranger before, right?” The added wink and dimple on his cheek when he grinned was making you soft in the center. Your fingers tightened again and this time you were quietly surprised at the responsive pressure of his grip pulsing.

It wasn’t just body heat rolling up from the gently, sagging opening at the top of your blouse. It was a rush of embarrassment or maybe desire. Neither of which you were prepared for and both suited the moment perfectly. “Yeah, of course. Maybe not in an empty bar with the whole place locked up.” 

Namjoon looked over your shoulder as he turned your back towards the bar and squinted in the direction where you vaguely recalled the bartender had been drying glasses and trying hard to make it not look like he’d been staring–not that there was anything else to look at while he did whatever closing duties still needed to be done. 

“Doesn’t seem like he’s locked the doors yet…” 

“He probably wants to..” You stopped briefly and Namjoon hesitated, then you were turning again, making wide side steps across the space and gently listing left, then right. It was getting warmer. The music and heat closing in around you. 

“Probably. …The song’s almost over—and that’s a shame.” Namjoon murmured, nose teasingly close to yours. By now you were over those nerves, finding they were pushed down and out by something else: a pleasant pressure that squeezed your belly tight and made your nerves taut but not in a fearful way. 

The flat, firm pressure of Namjoon’s palm rose up your spine as he slowed a little, following the crawl of the music and the smokey vocals, bringing you both back towards the jukebox and bringing his handsome features into hypnotic shades of red, green and blue. 

“It is?” 

“Yeah.” His smile stayed, glowing just right under these electric colors. You were practically standing still, swaying on two firmly planted feet with this broad arm belted at the small of your back and the sudden taste of some nice cologne rushing through your nostrils, riding directly to your brain. “..That means we have to stop. I won’t lie..It’s been a long time since I danced like this.” 

“With a stranger?” 

“With anyone.” Namjoon whispered over the final strains of the last few notes as the song disappeared and the world around you went quiet. You heard an errant thunk in the jukebox and then nothing further. The lights were still washing you both as he gazed down into your eyes. 

“Sounds bad, I bet.” He was trying to get ahead of what he didn’t know: your opinion on that detail and save face maybe, by playing the odds. But he was wrong. You thought no differently about him.

“I wouldn’t say that.” You offered with a shift of both shoulders. Namjoon’s gentle possession of your hand ended as he let it go but his touch returned to your nearer hip. You didn’t move to remedy that. His chest expanded as he took a breath. 

“Well.. I’m glad. We don’t know much about each other.. But can I tell you something?” 

“Sure.” You almost breathed. You didn’t plan to be here much longer before flying out to your next destination, but you suddenly wanted to know as much as you could about this man. His wants and needs. What he was searching for and what he left behind at home–wherever that could be.

“I really liked dancing with you.”

You couldn’t help smiling and Namjoon’s smile widened when yours broke. “Yeah?” 

He chuckled, adding “Even if it’s been a bit and I’m rusty.. Guess it’s true–dancing is one of those things you don’t really forget. One of nature’s blessings to the human being.” Namjoon stepped back and you almost grasped at his shirt to pull him close again. The heat and the sweet–both you wanted all over you again. It was suddenly too cold and getting dark as the jukebox flickered. 

“Where—” You began but Namjoon spoke again, leaning near the side of the jukebox. It went completely dead and dark a moment later as he unplugged it and dropped the cord to the floor. He was upright, hand extended to you in no time. The relief that came taking hold right now was unsurpassed.

“--Let’s go. That guy probably wants to get home. I’m thinking we should take the hint. Would you mind if I got us an Uber?”

“Where are you staying?” You didn’t quite recognize the name of the hotel when Namjoon said it but if you could make any assumptions you pictured it as a basic, mid range place. Most of the hotels around this town were fair to good on Yelp. He didn’t look like he slummed it. 

“You?” He asked, taking his phone out as he walked you both to the door and collected his coat, minutes later. You nodded to the bartender as he waved briefly, then turned and grabbed your coat, leaving the last hook empty finally. Just how long HAD you two been here and how much time had you lost? This was a new and strange experience. 

You gave the hotel name and Namjoon shrugged into his coat with a humming smile. “Yeah. I thought about that place but I also wanted to change it up. I regret it. My room has about 100 less channels on the TV. Not worth the savings.” 

“You’re not missing much with those extra channels, trust me.” You replied. Namjoon’s palm rested on the door, then pushed it open to reveal the night, a bit colder and damper than you’d left it. 

“That’s a relief.” He smiled. Namjoon took a glance outside, then nodded towards the empty sidewalk just beyond. “Let’s go. Uber is on the way and I want to make sure I get you back at a reasonable time.” 

You had no idea what time it really was but based on the size of the moon in the sky and the nearly deathly silence outside, it couldn’t be early. The entire world seemed asleep out there which meant late enough you could hope to get just enough sleep to be coherent at the continental breakfast tomorrow. 

“Thank you again.” You slipped through the open door and footsteps followed you after it shut. Namjoon kept up with easy strides, all the way to the curb and stood almost shoulder to shoulder. You should work up enough nerve to lift his nearer arm and tuck yourself into the warmth there. There was a quiet contemplation in the way his gaze went to the sky as he waited, then finally replied. 

“No need. I want you back in your room safely. That’s non-negotiable.” 

-----------------------------------------------------------

 “Have you ever done this before?” You asked, watching Namjoon open the door to his room. He barely paused after sliding the key card back into his coat pocket to smile over one shoulder. 

“Can you clarify? If you’re talking about staying here, yes.” 

You grinned, following him through the open door, then let it shut behind you as lights came on throughout the room. This place was quite a bit different than your room: a longer hallway leading from the door to the main space and you noted what looked like an impressively sized bed. You’d sprung for a single but you were sure your bed wasn’t nearly this big. 

“I’m talking about having someone come back to your room that you just met---a stranger..” 

“I wouldn’t say we’re strangers,Y/n. We know each other’s names and we had a very nice dance.” 

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the large, wall-mounted mirror opposite the end of the bed as Namjoon hung his coat on a hook and tossed the contents of his pockets on the TV stand nearby. For a moment you didn’t recognize yourself: the large eyes and the nervousness all over your face. In your work life you didn’t ever show this much panic. 

But in your work life you didn’t tend to dance with strangers after closing in empty businesses. And they weren’t nearly as handsome as Namjoon naturally was.

Dutifully you slid your coat off and hung it on one of two chairs neatly pushed in against a small table tucked against one corner. Namjoon was at the window and pulled the curtains open a little with an outward sweep of both arms–a gesture that drew your attention. The impressive width of his upper body, hugged by a fitted dress shirt, kept your attention.

At a loss for where to put yourself and feeling a bit more exposed with your overcoat gone, your fingers laced together as you stood and stared. Eventually Namjoon turned his back on the view and smiled again. 

“Am I still a stranger to you? We can fix that.” 

Feeling all kinds of knots suddenly kinking up your insides, you barely smiled. “Kind of.. There’s plenty of things I don’t know about you.” 

“I’m an open book. Ask me anything.” 

“...Why are you here? Is it a work thing?” 

“Something like that.” More dimples as Namjoon strolled closer, fingers working to loosen the cuffs of his shirt sleeves. He rolled the material, standing well within your grasp. All you could do was stand here, inhaling more teasing notes of his cologne–and that was better than the gaudy floral smell of a freshly cleaned hotel room. 

“That’s a cagey answer, Namjoon. Are you a secret agent or a health inspector or something?” 

He chuckled and you went warm from your scalp to your soles. His forearms looked strong, shifting a little as he crossed his arms, head tilting in amusement. 

“Nothing nearly as fun. Let’s just say I do risk assessment. Just..boring stuff.” 

“No kidding?”

He nodded and you watched his Adam’s apple slowly go up, then down.

That bed was neatly made. Either he did it or took advantage of the maid service and liked neatness. The way he had his room still almost picture perfect was fascinating to you. 

No question how it would look like your luggage exploded in your room if you’d ask him to come back with you. You hadn’t quite gotten the nerve and right now you couldn’t be sure if he was a neat freak or just careful with his choices and hadn’t quite settled in yet. 

“What’s your line of work?” A fair question and one you should have expected. Even so, you kept it vague enough.

“I work in sales. Just as boring..” 

“Yes.” He winked, arms back down to his sides. “I wasn’t that good as a sales person. I don’t like making people want something and getting their money for it.” 

“It’s not quite like that for me.” You countered. The tension relaxed in your belly and you took another look around as Namjoon turned away with a sigh, then walked towards the basic coffee maker on the counter near the tv stand. Even his kitchen space had a little more. This place would have to be on the list of suggestions for your next company sponsored work trip–which would come way, WAY too soon.

“Isn’t it? Good.” Namjoon unwrapped two plastic cups from their sterile packaging and set them side by side, then squatted down and opened a small black fridge just below the counter. 

“Wow. You have a fridge too?” Even though he’d loosened his cuffs and rolled his sleeves, the back of his shirt was still perfectly taut, showing off a good amount of muscle in motion while he hunted around in the cold, confined space.

“Doesn’t your room get one? This place doesn’t have the best towels but honestly these fridges are pretty impressive for the size. There’s a bucket on the bedside table–with ice. Can you bring it over here?” 

“My room has some amenities. A coffee machine and these huge bath towels–maybe they’re even sheets but..” 

His request felt so easy and normal. For a brief moment it was like you two had always shared this space. No hesitation. No nervousness. Namjoon asked for what he wanted and his request was simple.

That was why he got what he wanted as you returned with the black ice bucket, lid going onto the counter, then the bucket too as you set it down carefully. There was ice nearly to the top. 

“Sounds pretty damn good, honestly. I love big bath towels. And the soft ones..” He hummed, then grunted, standing with a modest size, dark green bottle. Your eyes went to the label as he peeled the foil off the top. 

“...Champagne? Here?” 

He grinned bigger and tossed the balled up foil onto the counter. It was bottle top, not a cork as you'd expected. Namjoon shook his head, popping the cap off a moment later with a firm push of his thumb, seeming unbothered at the clatter as it skidded then bounced across the counter top to disappear. 

“We’re on a budget. Martinelli's…that okay?” 

“Absolutely. I love that stuff, actually.” Emboldened, you stepped close and grabbed one of the cups. Namjoon tutted but didn’t do more than fake a frown, bringing the bottle towards your glass. 

“Ice?” 

“Maybe the next round.” As he poured the thin plastic cup chilled in moments. Carefully your grip tightened. Namjoon poured himself a glass, dropped in a few ice pieces, then set the bottle on the counter. 

He took a testing sip, then swallowed and his chin jerked towards the bed. “Let’s get comfortable.” 

Wordless, you took a massive swallow and followed, resting one ass cheek on the edge of the bed–as much as you could get away with and look like you were mostly sitting properly. Why you couldn’t sit more casually was a mystery but your belly somersaulted at the way the bed sank down when Namjoon’s weight lowered onto it just out of reach. 

“Did you really like the dance?” You asked. Mostly you believed but still couldn’t understand that it was you chosen for the experience. Already it beggared belief that you’d walked into that place tonight and Namjoon noticed you, let alone approached you. Just how long had he been watching your self debate by the jukebox? 

“Why wouldn’t I? I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted to dance. Sometimes you just miss the human contact.” 

“We’re both traveling for work…we run into people a lot. That’s human contact, isn’t it?” 

“Not quite, Y/n.” Namjoon finished his drink, leaned over and set the cup on the bedside table. Sitting back upright he was much taller than you too, just like when he was standing. Or like when he’d pulled you close and moved to the beat, swaying oh so nicely. Naturally. The way you’d forgotten a dance could feel, with another body against your own.

“The basic interactions of traveling or living your life, day to day, that’s one thing. It’s easy to socialize and satisfy that urge. There’s something missing from that–something I keep thinking about, even on the go lately.” 

Having no one to go home to was never a problem or something you noticed until tonight. 

“You know what I’m saying, Y/n?” Namjoon’s gaze was on you when your eyes found it a moment later. Even though it was a warm, patient stare you still flinched. You could fall into those eyes and never climb out, work schedule be damned. You couldn’t fly across the world to escape this feeling. “..Do you miss it?” 

“Miss it?” 

Namjoon flashed a measured smile then scooted closer. The bed sank further, the shift pulling you closer with a gentle lean. The way you’d found yourself inclined earlier, in the dim bar, swaying through the gentle strains of the song he’d chosen. 

To your surprise he stood, holding one hand out again. You were surprised and confused, watching with eyes a bit wider. 

“This is what I mean.. I like this. Don’t you, Y/n?” 

“Stand up.”

When you were on your feet Namjoon gave a gentle tug and your front was pressed close again. This time Namjoon’s arm wrapped higher up on your back. The slow, easy motion was back–a left to right shifting to some beat only he could hear. He spoke again. 

The temperature in the room was rising and the first of many things was happening: a section of your nape and lower back were dampening. Right between the breasts would be next. You lifted your eyes, head tipped to stare up at Namjoon’s face to reply.

“It does feel good. Dancing..” 

“I don’t mean the dancing. There’s no music, but we don’t really need that to be like this, do we?” 

“No.” You took a deep breath, rewarded again with an undiluted Namjoon scent. His free hand ran along your side and settled on your hip, lightly gripping the curve.

He stopped under your ear on the other side of your neck. “Seems like we understand each other pretty well, hmm?” Namjoon chuckled against your skin. “Can I be a little bold and tell you how much I wanted you tonight?” 

Motion slowed more and his lips came closer. The kiss happened so slowly. The warmth of his mouth had you moaning and the kiss deepened rapidly. His jaw flexed and yours did the same. Another moan and Namjoon pulled back, running his lips down the side of your neck and pecked at your collarbone. You sank fingers into flesh and material.

“Yeah?” With a moan you slid fingers along his scalp.  

“Yes. Watched you for a long time after you came in. You’re beautiful–Never seen anyone like you.. I bet everyone there wanted you.” 

“Namjoon..” You grunted, feeling painfully shy and wanting to roll your eyes at the same time but he put an end to further objection when his teeth sank into your lower lip. After it slid free he pecked where he'd bitten.

“That’s what I think..” He growled. “..You’re here with me. I wanted that more than anything and I’m not a guy who gives up on things I want.” 

“Doesn’t seem so..” You managed, head going back and senses tipping into the beginning of euphoria. 

Palms cupped under your ass, bringing you higher. You could barely gasp when your feet left the floor. Namjoon started to walk, only stopping when your back met a wall by where you’d entered the room.

“W….what–” 

Namjoon’s mouth slid across yours, then sank against you for another kiss. He front crushed closer, the weight pinning you in place. He looped one arm around your midsection and used the other hand to feel around your hips. 

“If you want me to stop, I will Y/n.”

You didn’t want it to stop. In fact your body was humming for more, faster. You squeezed thighs tighter around Namjoon’s waist and he groaned, clawing each side of your leggings down to expose both hips before he paused. 

“Need some room…” He whispered, pulling back to look down between your bodies. Your legs fell free to let him move. Namjoon didn’t waste time, shoving the bottoms down to your ankles. The flats you wore dropped to the floor and he flung the leggings away. 

As he kissed, Namjoon murmured, bathing your prickling skin with praises. Comments on how good you smelled and tasted after each peck and lick. Broad, wet lines along your skin, running over both hip bones and down to where your thighs joined, did wonders to make your core red hot. 

You’d already begun to hook thumbs into the waist of your panties when Namjoon took a knee and buried his mouth against your mound.

You froze. It wasn’t more than a blink and your hands instinctually found handfuls of his hair for a firm grasp. He wasn’t going anywhere and you were holding on for dear life–two mutually exclusive facts about the evolving situation.

By the time he tugged the panties to your calves and they shuffled down to the ankles, your moan was floating through the hotel room air–and Namjoon’s tongue was swabbing right down your folds. He came right back up as fingers clutched and yanked the panties off. After a kiss to the inside of one thigh, Namjoon was back up and found the back of your knee, gripping the sensitive space just being, to haul your thigh back up. 

Somewhere between kneeling and standing, Namjoon had taken care of his own bottoms. They were pooled around his ankles with the belt leading impact in a confirming thump. The warmth of his erect, bare cock grazed against your hip as he pressed you to the wall again. 

Your other leg circled him to join, ankles crossing just above his bare ass. You didn’t need to see it to know: he had a fantastic ass. There hadn’t exactly been a known plan for seeing this much of him, but you could safely bet you’d get a good look at his backside later and it would more than make up for a lack in this moment. 

Namjoon’s shoulders flexed as he ducked his head and nuzzled along your top. Having his power to keep you steady left you free a hand from holding his hair to pull your top high. As high as you could manage: just above your breasts, exposing the delicate lace of your bra. It was a slightly flirty number, even if you hadn’t expected it to be seen. 

An approving growl rippled through Namjoon’s throat as he stopped at one breast and inhaled against skin. One sucking kiss later and he popped free, leaving the beginnings of what felt like a strong love bite. Arousal surged through your body, concentrating right into your pussy. You whined. 

Clenching gently, Namjoon brought that up down and captured that exposed nipple, tugging once. When you winced, he mumbled something and soothed with a wet, sucking kiss that puckered the skin almost immediately. 

You weren’t sure you’d ever expected yourself to see this angle of a hotel room during sex, having only ever had experience from the bed, but life threw happy changes your direction tonight and the trend only seemed to be continuing. 

“Namjoon..” You moaned. His lips came away from your other nipple as the bra tightened when you inhaled deep. He yanked it down to your belly, then his hand cupped the back of your neck.

“Y/n..” He replied. “..Help me with my shirt? We could just do this mostly clothed but I’d rather feel it all without things in the way..” 

Blindly groping, squeezing with both hands at whole sections of material you could feel, then bringing it up to Namjoon’s broad shoulders. He looped your waist and squeezed so tight you could barely breathe, then did the remaining work to haul his shirt off completely. Where it went you weren’t concerned, instead pressing palms to his bare skin, confirming what your eyes caught–pure,firm muscle. Completely hard and super warm.

You wanted this man on you more than any piece of clothing or warm blanket. Namjoon was right: you missed this kind of connection. This sensation of real touch and skin flushed with warmth for you. 

“Thanks.” Namjoon angled a forearm at your tailbone to lift you more. Your knees pinched inwards against his ribs. He didn’t seem to mind, smile still curving his lips. “..You…sure this is okay? I definitely want it—want you...” 

You nodded and brought your hands up to his neck. It was easy to hold on and Namjoon’s brows rose when you squeezed a little. A subtle shift in his hips brought a blunt pressure across your sensitive folds, spreading the wetness. 

“Don’t worry about hurting me..” He whispered. “I’m not afraid of much. …Tell me when..” This man was poised, waiting with you pinned against the wall, holding up all of your weight. And it looked so easy. You were a mess of marvel and need. 

Your toes slid across the small of his back as you adjusted, then nodded firmly, closing your eyes. This was too important to risk getting distracted by any sights that weren’t Namjoon. The breath you took in left you slowly–the same pace as Namjoon’s tip entered you and kept going. Stretching you so nicely it felt like melting. 

When he was entirely seated, Namjoon exhaled in a growl. “God…Do you know how good this feels, Y/n?” You didn’t respond, eyes rolling behind lowered lids as pressure shifted in you, rising and falling with the measured strokes that started.

Namjoon was steady and just firm enough as he thrust in and pulled back. Eventually his pace climbed and your body began to jerk and tremble. The gentle rocking of his forward motion lightly jammed your back against the wall steadily. Hotel walls were probably paper thin and no doubt anyone in the next room would be able to hear the way you moaned and groaned. The way you gasped and pleaded. Mewled with nails dragging his back, making traction across his shifting shoulder blades. 

Namjoon’s hips twisted and snapped a little harder. His face smothered against your neck, he exploded with a howl of enjoyment and the pumping pace increased. There was a power in his  body that he was carefully letting out as his cock cleaved through your tightness. 

Your muscles tightened, rippling as the thickness of his shaft dipped into you deeper. Even faster,jostling you. It felt like bouncing on a massive stallion. You love the way he rammed you, sending shudders through your breasts and thighs. Making your feet dance until the curling of your toes forced them into arches of pleasure. 

“Namjoon..Don’t stop.. You’re gonna make me cum.” 

His fingers were at your hair and he gathered a fistful, pulling gently, speaking into the wet column along the front of your throat. Namjoon was still going, fucking you fast and hard. And as often as you’d been with a man in your life or regardless of how long it had been, you knew this was the best it had felt bar none. 

Your head was going deliciously light as your eyes finally opened, watching the world jumping as you took a handful of punishing thrusts deep inside. When you came it was so much you only realized what happened when Namjoon’s charming smile came into focus, sprinkled in sweat and shining in the nearby lamp light. 

“Y/n? Baby… You okay?” The lowness of his eyelids told you he was sure he hadn’t hurt you. And the way your thighs shivered around his waist. The way your fingers plaintively dragged down his slippery chest–he was more than clear on what happened. The lingering flutters in your walls told you he was still buried, wide and hard. You hadn’t pushed him out, even if the strength of those contractions might have tried to make it happen. 

Everything felt sinfully wet when he slid back to test. Licking your lips, you nodded. “Think I came..” 

“You think?” Namjoon took a long look down, leaning left and right. “The floor and my cock would say you’re right..” 

“God…was it..that intense?” 

“Yeah. And I LOVE it.” You saw the way his face twisted into pained honesty. He meant what he said and the lowering of his brows over those dark, fiery eyes told you he might even want more. That he hadn’t found his end. Your fingernails dug into his bicep on one side and you gripped onto his opposite shoulder, bracing with every ounce of energy you had left in your leg muscles. 

“...Cum for me?” You ventured, softly pleading. This was absolutely the worst, stupidest, most dick drunk idea you’d ever had. And you’d had more than a few horny ideas in your sexually active life. 

Namjoon’s eyes swirled in heat as his mouth turned to an even line. Inside you could feel that big cock twitching. You knew it was from excitement and wondered just how close he was. 

“I can do that… Where do you want it?” 

“Well you don’t mind I made a mess on you… It’s only fair.. You make a mess in me.” 

“Inside?” Namjoon blinked, nostrils flaring when he withered briefly before he straightened again. “Fuck…” 

“I want it. I miss it..” You’d never had it but this was something you needed him to cross off the list. Eventually Namjoon refocused, bringing his gaze back up to stare deep into your eyes again. Eventually the stroking started again but this time he wasn’t slow or sexy. It was a firm, marching pace from the start. Your head rolled sharp to one side and your eyes squeezed shut again as he hit that same spot he’d hit that had thrown you into a massive orgasm. 

If he didn’t stop it was going to happen again. And maybe not before he finished. You tried biting the urge back and eventually burst out a warning as your middle hummed, pressure climbing to a menacing peak. 

“H..hurry..” You rasped out, calf muscles taut, ass cheeks clenching and belly tight. Namjoon threw himself into fucking you, going hard enough there was an audible thump against the wall with his weight slamming over and over.

As quick as it was Namjoon stopped, cramming himself against you with a single, long growl escaping through clenched teeth. The high that rushed over you right after was less intense but still delivered a punch, making your legs weak. As one foot slipped down the back of his thigh, you giggled, desperately trying to get your heavy lids up. You wanted to see his face–the satisfaction that he was experiencing based on the sounds… You NEEDED to get eyes on it. 

Eventually you were able to blink the world into focus and fully appreciate the sparkling shape of Namjoon’s bare upper body, still mostly against you, with his forehead creased in bliss. He found your face and lifted one brow, then leaned in and kissed you lightly. His room might be neat but you felt like the best kind of hot, over sexed mess on the inside. 

“The walls in this place aren’t bad, hmm?” He chuckled as you chased his lips, then gently set your other foot on the floor. You both ignored the serious shaking in your thighs until it went away after a few seconds. 

“Not too bad..” You confirmed. “Think this kind of thing happens a lot in this hotel?” 

Namjoon looked around as he stepped back further, then turned away. Your eyes took complete liberty, opening ogling his ass. It was as tight, round and muscled as you expected. If you weren’t delightfully numb from the orgasms, the sight of his entire back half would do more than enough to get you primed. 

The chill in the air began to creep in again as your skin cooled. The sheen of sweat was already drying and goosebumps started, rising from your thighs. Namjoon was back with another plastic cup and lifted it to your lips. You took a few big sips, humming in thanks. 

Namjoon watched you looking around as he finished the remaining water, then set the cup down. As you leaned down towards the crumpled clothing by the bed he spoke. “What are you doing?” 

“Getting dressed.” 

“I can grab a towel.” He replied, wearing a curious smile. 

“That’s for showers.. I just need to get my stuff..” 

“Y/n..” The low volume and softness of his tone gave you pause. When he took your hand and brought you back up, anything you could say was rapidly out of mind. His smile increased. “We could clean up in the shower and relax for a little bit. I’m not asking you to get dressed and get out.” 

“You don’t need to..” You stammered. Where this ‘must leave’ energy was coming from, you weren’t sure. Everything still felt so relaxed and distant. You didn’t want to do the walk of shame yet. In fact the longer you could stay in this space, the better. 

“If we’re talking about needs versus wants–how about this: I WANT you to join me in the shower. And I want you here–” Namjoon’s glance went to the bed and came back. “---with me for a little longer. Can you do that?” 

“I’d like it..” You said, letting relief change your face and smooth the tension that was settling in. After he studied you, Namjoon nodded. 

“Good. Want to go in and turn the shower on? I’ll join you. I just want to…clean up.” You looked around at what suddenly became clearer: he’d really thrown all the clothes everywhere. Stepping away you undid the bra from your middle and laid it on the bed. 

Namjoon went to work, collecting the other clothing as you turned and headed for the bathroom. It was much bigger, brighter, and more tiled than the bathroom in your hotel room. You appreciate the trade offs, at least. What you lacked in bathroom space, you made up for in breakfast options, pillows and warm, fluffy comforter. 

In the bathroom you studied your naked body, turning around one way, then the other. For a moment you stared over one shoulder, watching your ass in the mirror. Looking for signs that Namjoon had been here–and there were small details. Secret marks. Delightful little parting gifts. 

This time you noticed when Namjoon was staring when you glanced towards the bathroom door and spotted him into the frame with a wistful smirk and eyes all over you. Was that how he’d looked watching you at the bar earlier tonight? 

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Doesn’t matter. I was enjoying the view. Like it even more than I did back in the bar.” 

“Well… you can’t say everyone here wants me.. It’s just us.” 

“Yes I can and it’s true. They want you even more. For as long as possible.” In spite of the steam rolling from behind the clear plastic curtain separating you from the hot water hissing across the way, you could still appreciate the visual feast of naked Namjoon, semi soft, with narrow hips and wide shoulders. With a dimpled smile and dark hair, eating you up with his eyes and about to reach out to get you in his grasp. 

“Were you watching me for this long at the bar?” 

“I told you.. I saw you come in and there was no one else after that. Why would that change? You didn’t get more beautiful because we just had sex, Y/n. Your value hasn’t diminished.” 

“You’re going to make me shy..” Among other feelings. You turned away to catch your breath and steel yourself. That rebuilt resolve flagged the moment that big palm touched your hip and followed the body line up to shoulder. Then to cheek as he quietly said “Turn around, Y/n. Let me see you..” 

You did and Namjoon was as close as he’d been in the other room, right before he’d pinned you to the wall and turned your entire being inside out. This stranger turned lover. This man who’d spent so long seeing so much around the country, but was so into you as if it was the best thing he’d ever experienced. 

You closed your eyes, leaning into his palm and releasing a quiet moan. “Namjoon..” You managed. His thumb slid over your lips, quieting you. 

“Don’t let go until you have to, Y/n. I don’t want to think about where we’re going to go after tonight. Stay right now. It’s what I want. I think we both want it.” 

He was right. You couldn’t think of an excuse that wasn’t some flimsy, pale reason that would fall apart upon reflection. Eventually you found the thoughts and words to respond.

“If I stay…You come back to my room. It’s only fair.” You felt the heat of your giggle against his palm before it slid away and he pulled the bathroom door closed. Dropping two perfectly folded towels onto the counter he glanced at you with a rakish smile. 

“Fair is good with me. You got it. Now get in there..” 

[amasterpieceofmadness]

the new suit – tony s.

summary You and Tony are working together on a new suit as you end up kissing him. But before you can confess your feelings you get interrupted by Steve…

warnings none, fluff, mutual pining

wordcount 5.2K

______________________________________________________________

Tony slides his glasses back on as he’s fishing up on some new designs for his Iron Man suit. "You finished the sketches of the costume? Let me see." He leans over the desk while I’m sitting in a chair, he puts his palms on the table and takes a closer look over at my sketchbook.

“What do you think?” I ask as I lean back in my chair.

"Hmm." Tony stares at the sketchbook, rubbing his hands together as he takes in the designs, his brows furrowing and his mouth twisting into a thoughtful frown. "Very interesting. I see your thought process here. It's clear that you took inspiration from some of my old work, but you also managed to add your own touches. It's creative. I like it." He pushes himself off of the desk and looks at me from under his glasses with a small smirk, which makes me a bit proud to be honest.

“Oh, you haven't seen the best part yet” I lean over, nearly spilling my coffee, to get some more sketches out under a pile of other papers “There you are” I hand him the sketches and once again Tony leans in, craning his neck to get a better look at them. His face lights up as he sees them, quickly analyzing and taking in the details.

"Okay, I like the direction you've taken. I really like your new touches to my original style. It looks damn good, and the new armory you added sounds great!” He seems really pleased with my work.

“Thought you like it. The material for the suit is light but it can still protect you just as good and it is very resistance” I explain my sketches to him, occasionally looking up to check if he’s still listening.

Tony is visibly impressed, nodding in approval as he takes in the details. "Yes, that's a fantastic feature. The light weight and increased protection would be an asset in any battle. I also like the addition of the new weapons. It adds an extra level of versatility, and gives me a little more firepower. And it's great that you were able to do it all while keeping the suit light weight. That's always been one of my main concerns."

“So... when can we get started?” I ask overly motivated, looking up at him while sipping on my like 10th coffee today, even though it’s only 1pm.

Tony smiles and lets out a chuckle as he glances once again at the many sketches of his new suit. "Well, with this level of enthusiasm, I'd say we could start right now. Everything we need is here in the lab. The only thing we need to decide on is the color scheme. Do you want to stick with classic red and gold, or go with something different?"

I smirk and get up, ready to go to work. “No, no, the red-gold is iconic. We are not gonna change a thing there. But we should pick a darker shade for the red. This way the suit doesn’t look like a toy and it really brings out the golden accents I put there” I point to the sketches

Tony nods in agreement, looking at the sketches with a critical eye, taking in the subtle details I’ve added.

"Hmm, a darker red would definitely give it a more sophisticated and mature look. And it would also make the gold accents pop more. Let's go with a darker red, and see how it looks."

I nod in agreement and already walk through the lab, looking around for the stuff we need and turning on all the electronical devices. “Sounds good. But we can decide about the final color later on in the process anyway. Jarvis, put on some ACDC”

Tony chuckles at the unexpected command to Jarvis, but follows behind me as I walk through the lab, eyeing the different machines and equipment as I pass. "True that. For now, let's focus on getting the different parts of the suit put together. And ACDC is always a perfect choice for the mood in the lab." Tony says with a smile, as the iconic rock music fills the lab, filling him with a surge of energy.

We work diligently throughout the whole night, making steady progress on the suit. It’s nothing too unusual for the two of us since we both really enjoy working together and we are both night owls. And I have to admit that I love to work with him. We are very close and always fool around and joke together.

The sun is starting to rise, but neither of us seems to notice, as we’re too busy focusing on creating the perfect suit. We’ve made a lot of progress on putting the different components together, and we’re both beginning to feel a sense of accomplishment. Tony sighs and stretches and I can’t help but glance at his muscles. "I'd say that we should take a break and stretch our legs for a bit. We've been here all night, and I feel the need to move around a little bit."

I nod quickly and take my eyes off of him. If he noticed me staring, he just ignores it. “You can move around while testing the new gloves.”

Tony grins and nods his head, deciding that a physical test of the gloves was a great idea. "Eager, are we? Give me a few minutes to put them on, and then I'll go out on a test run."

“Alright. Jarvis, put on the test mode” Jarvis immediately snaps to attention and responds to the command in a calm and robotic voice. “Test mode initiated”

The suit is immediately powered on and the screens light up with different modes and data readouts. The hands and fingers of the suit appear to be moving and extending and retracting in a variety of movements. Tony's hands flex and move as he tests out the new gloves. I watch as Tony brings his arms forward and aiming the palms towards the ground. He holds the position for a few seconds, as a bright red circle emits from each palm towards the ground. The red rings come into contact with each other and create a force field that quickly expands and covers Tony inside of it.

A huge smirk crosses my face as I see that my plans work out and the new armory is working just fine. “What do you think?”

Tony chuckles in response to my smug grin. "I think it's brilliant. Your idea for the shield component was an excellent addition to this suit. Well done on this upgrade."

“Thank you” I chuckle and check the data on the screens again.

Tony flashes a wide smile as he looks at you with a hint of approval. That million-dollar smile that makes my knees weak every time. "You're welcome. I think your additions have really brought the suit to the next level.” Tony nods in agreement, glancing over at the different components that are stacked on the workbench. "The next step is to finish putting all the parts together and getting the full suit assembled. After that it's just a matter of testing the suit itself and making sure everything works properly."

I nod as well, approvingly, and look up at Tony. “What about you get some coffee, I get breakfast and then we can continue with the suit?”

Tony nods and smirks, excited to continue working on the suit. The day passes and Tony and I don't even leave the lab. Sometimes the other Avengers come in to check on us and they all smile at our teamwork. Currently Steve looks around the lab, smirking at Tony and me. “You know, the way you guys work together... it seems like there is going on more than just friendship”

Tony chuckles as he hears Steve's comment, but doesn't take his eyes off his work as he continues to assemble the different parts of the suit, testing and retesting every component for functionality and efficiency. He responds to Steve's comment without looking away from his work. "We have a good dynamic going. It's not hard to get in a groove and get things done with her on my team. That’s all."

I chuckle and walk over to Tony, handing him some more parts of the suit. “Just admit it, you would be helpless without me”

Tony laughs and jokingly rolls his eyes, as he takes the parts and slots them into the appropriate place inside the suit. He turns and looks at me, as he begins to test out the new upgrades. "Okay, okay, you've got me. I'm totally useless without you." Tony says in a sarcastic tone, though it's clear he's still enjoying the banter and he is thankful for my help.

I too chuckle and sit back down on my own working bench, getting back to work.

“You two are cute” Steve smiles, wanting to tease Tony a bit more.

Tony laughs again and blushes a bit as he hears Steve's comment. After all, we really do have very good chemistry. Tony doesn't deny the fact that there is some truth to Steve's comment, but decides to play it cool. He shrugs as he continues to work. "Thanks, Cap, but we're just friends. Nothing more." Tony says with a mischievous smile, as he continues his work.

“Whatever” Steve smirks and leaves the lab after looking around one final time.

Tony nods his head and chuckles as Steve walks away, but he can't help feeling just a little bit embarrassed, and a little bit excited, by Steve's comment. He glances over at me, as I’m working on my own component. We are just friends, but sometimes it's hard to deny that there is something between us. We continue to work together for another couple hours, until finally we have the full suit assembled. We take a moment to step back and admire our work proudly.

I grin widely in excitement, standing next to Tony. “It's finished! We made it, and it looks good!”

Tony looks just as excited and proud as me, as he grins and nods his head, looking over the full suit. It has a clean, classic look to it, while also incorporating all the new upgrades that they added. The red-gold color scheme stands out, and the added accents look like a perfect blend of old and new. Tony is truly satisfied with the finished product. "I'd say we did an excellent job, wouldn't you?"

“Definitely!” I say a bit overexcited and thanks to my clumsiness I nearly fall over

Tony can't help but laugh a little bit as he sees me stumble, but he quickly catches me with his strong arms and steadies me, supporting my weight. He looks down at me with a smirk. "Careful now. We don't want any accidents to ruin our finished product."

I chuckle slightly but can't help and blush a bit as I get back onto my feet, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. “Of course not”

Tony smiles at the brief blush that he witnesses, though he is careful to keep his expression neutral and professional. He knows from experiences just how easily he can get distracted when I’m close. "So, what do you say, are we ready for a test run?"

”Yeah... Yeah! Let's test it out, getting you dressed up” I smile at him excitedly.

My enthusiasm is contagious, and Tony can't help but smile at my excitement. He starts getting changed, quickly pulling the different components of the suit on. The gloves snap into place, the boots secure onto his legs, and finally the chest and head components are in place as well. I just watch, occasionally checking the screens for the data. I can’t help but think he looks really handsome in that suit…

"Okay, I'm ready to test it out. Let's put this bad boy to the test.” Tony says as he is now fully into the suit.

I smirk at his choice of words and watch as Jarvis finishes securing the last component and the suit seals itself in place. The various monitors light up with different systems and readouts, as Jarvis speaks in his typical calm voice "Suit has been activated and all systems are at full operating capacity." Tony smiles and steps away from the workbench, giving the suit a brief visual inspection before turning to face me. "So, what do you think?"

“It looks damn good” and you too, I think to myself. “Jarvis, activate the testing mode”

Jarvis obeys the command, and the suit powers up fully, with the chest piece shining brightly as the repulsor rays light up. The arm cannons point forward, ready to act. It is indeed an impressive sight. "Alright, let's do this."

As soon as the face mask snaps into place, the suit is fully sealed and active. Tony lifts his hands into the air, as the repulsor rays shoot out at full power. The suit propels Tony into the sky, as the thrust lifts him into a high, smooth, stable flight.

I smile happily, we really did a great job. I walk around checking the diagrams on the computers “Seems like everything works just fine. Try it out some more”

Tony begins to fly around the lab, testing the different features of the suit. He begins testing out the weapons that you had installed as well. He seems pretty satisfied and I too smile happily, glad we did such a good job. “Jarvis, open the window hatch”

Jarvis immediately responds with a calm, robotic voice. "Opening window hatch." The window hatch opens up, allowing Tony to fly directly out of the lab and into the open outdoors. I watch as he flies through the window and up into the sky, his suit still shining brightly in the sunlight. He flies in a large circle around the lab building. I grin widely as I run over to the window and look outside, seeing Tony flying around in his new suit

Tony seems to be enjoying the test run as much as I am watching from the lab. He appears to be in full control of the suit, and seems to have no problems flying it around the outdoor space above the lab. The flight is smooth and stable, allowing Tony to make sharp turns and take advantage of the different features of the suit. He seems to be testing out every aspect of the new suit as he goes along. After a few minutes, he begins to fly back towards the lab window. He returns right through the window and lands in the lab, opening his face mask. I walk over to him, more than happy

“Wow! That looked so awesome!”

Tony nods his head as he pulls the mask off of his face. He is visibly thrilled and excited, both by the positive outcome of the test and by the fact that I were there to witness it. "It flew surprisingly well, and the different weapon systems were all functioning perfectly. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed a test run this much. And it all came out looking so good as well. We did a great job!"

“Yes, we definitely did!” I hug him out of pure excitement and suddenly our lips meet for just a few seconds.

Tony is caught off guard by this unexpected kiss, but he immediately wraps his arms around me as he kisses me back for just a few seconds. A brief and innocent kiss, the result of the heat of the moment. Tony pulls his head away eventually, and we just stand there, staring into each other’s eyes for a few seconds. He smiles and I see a faint glimpse of his cheeks turning red. I quickly pull away, blushing heavily and stuttering. “Oh my... I... I'm sorry, I... I don't know what... I ...”

Tony laughs softly as he sees just how flushed I am, but he's unable to hide a brief moment of amusement. "Relax, it was just a quick kiss. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Just a natural reaction to the moment. No big deal."

I take a deep breath, my cheeks still bright red. “We… we did a great job. The suit seems to work just fine”

Tony smiles at the way I stumble over my words, as he notices that my cheeks still haven't stopped blushing.

"Definitely. The suit works perfectly. The results speak for themselves and it will definitely be a game changer. But I guess the suit isn't the only thing that will be changing..."

I turn to look at him and frown, asking concerned “What do you mean? Are you not happy with it?”

Tony laughs as he notices the misunderstanding. "Oh no, I'm very happy with the suit. I was referring to our relationship. It feels like it's been changing between just friends and something more. I mean, late nights in the lab together, our banters, glances and a quick kiss, and you're blushing like crazy.”

My eyes widen at his words and I can feel my heart beating out of my chest. My voice shaky “Tony... I... I think this is just... the lack of sleep or the amount of coffee we drank or the excitement from the suit... I...”

Tony chuckles slightly and shakes his head, as he steps towards me and places his hands on my waist. "Is it really though? Or is it something else? I think we both know that this whole evening we've spent together had more to it than simple late nights and coffee.”

I look at him still dressed in his suit, my face flushed and my heart beating like crazy. “Tony...”

But before he can reply, Steve enters the lab and Tony immediately let go of me, stepping back a little.

“Oh hey! You finished the suit!” Steve says, rather impressed by the work Tony and I’ve done.

Tony stares at Steve with a friendly smile, knowing that he was caught in the middle of something but trying to play it off. "Sure did. Y/n and I just finished up the final tests, and we're very pleased with the results."

Steve looks between Tony and me, smirking softly and raising an eyebrow “Did I interrupt anything?”

Tony laughs as he shrugs his shoulders, pretending to be completely oblivious to the tension that was obviously there between him and me earlier. "Interrupt? No. We were just excited that the suit seemed to work so well, so we were discussing the final results and plans for the suit” he explains calmly and walks over to Steve, showing him the new suit he is still wearing.

“Yeah, we were just testing it out and the suit works pretty well” I smile at Steve as well, trying to hide my blush

Steve smiles back at me and gives a brief nod, as he continues to study my expressions. "Great! Seems like you both did an excellent job. I guess the suit isn't the only thing that got tested out tonight, huh?"

I blush and quickly turn around as Bruce also comes into the lab. “Oh hey, Wow! That suit looks good!”

The unexpected entry of Bruce throws Tony off for a quick second, as he glances over at him and flashes a look of surprise. He quickly regains his composure though, and smiles as he looks back over at Steve and Bruce. "Thanks. You’re just in time to see the new suit in action, if you'd like. Y/n and I just finished up the final tests for it."

As we continue to talk and show the features of the suit to Steve and Bruce, I notice the way that both Steve and Bruce keep stealing glances over at Tony and me with smirks in their faces. I know that at least one of them can clearly see the chemistry that is present between me and Tony. We both seem to be very close and comfortable together as we talk and laugh. After a while I start to feel tired and decide it's now time to get some rest. “Alright guys, I think I'll go get some sleep now. Tony, you good without me?

Tony's expression softens as he sees me starting to feel tired. He gives me a soft smile and nods his head. "Yeah, I'll be fine. You go get some sleep, and we'll meet back here tomorrow morning."

I agree and smile back at him before waving at Steve and Bruce before heading out of the lab and towards my room.

Tony watches me as I walk away, and he can't help but notice the way my curves hug tightly against my pants as I walk away from him. The vision in his eyes briefly lingers as all of the memories from the night come back to him. A faint glow appears in his eyes as he continues to watch me, then eventually he breaks the gaze and turns to Steve and Bruce.

Tony starts to get out of his suit and Steve smirks at him knowingly. Tony knows he's been caught, so he turns to look at Steve and raises an eyebrow in question, waiting for him to say what's on his mind. “So, what exactly did I interrupt before I came into lab?” Steve asks curiously and leans back against a work bench.

“Yeah, what was going on between you two?” Bruce looks confused yet curious between the two men.

Tony sighs as he realizes that he doesn't even have an excuse for this one. He can't deny the chemistry between us that both Steve and Bruce have observed. He just shrugs his shoulders, with a look of acceptance that shows he no longer has room to weasel himself out of it. "Just two friends enjoying some late night lab time. You know how it is. We just got a little carried away by the excitement of the suit."

“No, no... That seemed like something way more intimate” Steve smirks again and won’t let this go so easy.

Tony realizes that he's now in the position of having to either play dumb, or explain everything. Playing dumb in front of Steve and Bruce won’t work though. Tony sighs. "Look, Steve, some words have been spoken and there was a quick kiss. We both felt that this was more than just friendship..."

Both Steve and Bruce start to grin. “That's so cute. But you should talk to her, Tony.”

Tony's face flushes bright red. He hates that he is currently at the mercy of both Steve and Bruce with this whole situation. They are both grinning at him, clearly enjoying his predicament. He tries to act casual and gives off a soft sigh, acknowledging that Steve and Bruce are both right. "You guys... Come on, it wasn't that big of a deal. It just happened in the moment. Maybe it was all just a result of the late nights and energy drinks and the excitement of the suit."

Steve frowns a bit and looks more serious at Tony “The question is, do you want it to be just that?”

Tony looks over at Steve, knowing exactly what he's asking and fully aware of what his answer would be if he let himself be honest. He doesn't want it to be 'just that', but he can't just come out and say it in front of Steve and Bruce. Tony shakes his head from side to side, as if he can't really respond, though his mind is giving him a very strong, and very clear answer.

Both Steve and Bruce just smirk at each other, knowing the answer. Bruce sighs and pats Tony’s shoulder “Alright, buddy, get some rest. And think about it” Then Steve and Bruce leave.

After Steve and Bruce leave, Tony is left alone with his own thoughts, as he realizes that he now has to face the situation on his own. He can't keep trying to play it off as 'just a little accident' or "a result of late nights and energy drinks." It was all real, and he just has to find out how much it means to Y/n. He walks around the lab, considering everything that has happened over the course of the evening, and the different feelings that he feels for her. That brief kiss that had occurred. He's completely lost in his own thoughts as he walks to his room, pacing up and down.

Meanwhile I’m sitting on my bed and even though I’m rather tired, I’m wide awake, thinking of all the nights I spent with Tony in his lab. We were really good friends, but is that really everything? It was all getting to my head. I look over at the clock to see it's already 11:30 pm. I sigh and decide it was no use, so I get up and walk back to the lab, wanting to sketch some more ideas.

Tony is wide awake, as well. The memories from the night keep running through his head and he can't help but notice the way his heart begins to beat faster as he plays those memories back in his head over and over. He thinks about the late nights together where they would work on the suit, the jokes and laughs that they shared while doing so, the excitement that they felt and the brief kiss that they had shared, the blushing cheeks... Tony lies in bed for a while, struggling to fall asleep. He feels just a little bit energized from the night, but more so, he's feeling a bit restless as he struggles to process the events of tonight. He too notices how late it is and he decides to head back to the lab.

I'm sitting on the chair, hair up in a messy bun, looking over some sketches and trying to find some more new ideas to add. I'm so focused on the sketches that I don't even notice Tony entering the lab

Once Tony reaches the lab, he immediately catches a glimpse of the sketches and how casually I am seated with my hair up. I look very relaxed, almost as if this is normal for me to be up at this time in the lab, and Tony can't help but notice how the night had only brought out the most natural and casual side of me. He is also struck by how lovely you look in this setting...

Tony watches as I keep sketching, and he can't help but be charmed by how focused and completely lost I am in the task at hand. He finds himself feeling the urge to hug me and just rest his face against my shoulders to breath in my scent.

I’m just trying out some sketches of additional ideas on the suit when I suddenly feel a pair of strong, warm arms wrapping around myself and I jump slightly. “Shhh, it’s me” It's Tony, who has silently approached me from behind and wrapped his arms tightly around me, pulling me into a warm embrace. He rests his head on my shoulder, the feeling of my hair against his face feeling extremely reassuring. I can feel the heat of his body as his breath is close to my neck.

I let out a breath shaky breath “Hey…” Tony smiles as he feels my body relax in his embrace, and he doesn't even bother to explain his sudden move. He just enjoys the warmth of the moment, just as I am, as he wraps his arms even tighter around me, pulling me closer. “Aren't you asleep?” I ask curiously, ignoring the beating of my heart

"Nope." Tony answers softly, as he continues to tightly pull me into his embrace. He doesn't want to let go. He enjoys this moment of just being close to me without saying a word, and he can't help but breath in the scent of me that fills his nostrils. I relax more in his embrace and lean back slightly into him, closing my eyes and resting my hand onto his arms, feeling his muscles beneath his skin. Tony leans his head towards me, and he gently gives my cheek a small kiss, without saying anything. He feels my body slightly tense up at this, but I don't pull away. He can't help but blush at the fact that I’m allowing this to happen, as he pulls himself away, a small blush on his cheeks. I blush heavily and finally I turn my head slightly so now I'm facing him. We are just inches apart.

Tony stares deeply into my gaze as he can suddenly feel the intense connection between us. He can't help but be struck by everything that he's feeling when he looks into my eyes. He slowly moves his face forward, and he presses his lips onto mine, kissing me soft and gently. I can't help but blush heavily. The first kiss today in the lab was due to excitement, but this one now is different. This is a more intimate kiss, the kind where you slowly move forward, and you keep your lips connected to his. He pulls back after a few moments, just enough for our faces not to be touching anymore, but he is still close enough to feel my breath as it touches his face.

“What was that for..?” My voice is not more than a whisper, just for him to hear

"It was just... an urge to show you my appreciation." Tony answers softly, as he continues to smile at me. His gaze is still soft and gentle, but there's also this slightly confident tone in his voice which hints at the possibility that this 'urge' is something more. He pauses for a moment, as he sees my reaction to his statement, and he waits for my respond.

I smile at him softly “Then let my show you my appreciation” I turn around a bit in my chair, now able to move my arms and lay my hand onto his chest

He doesn't say anything in reply, but he leans forward and slowly presses his lips against mine once more, in a longer, and more intimate kiss. He can't help but let out a soft noise. He continues to kiss me soft and gently, wrapping his arms around me now and pushing himself even closer to me. The kiss feels very tender and affectionate, and he can't help but feel a bit vulnerable in this situation, as if this was all just too perfect to be true. We pull apart and look at each other. He shakes his head as he regains composure and smiles softly at me.

“God, I love that smile”, I say to him, laying one hand against his cheek softly.

Tony wraps his arms around me tightly. He leans closer and he presses his forehead against mine, his eyes closing and taking a deep breath. “And I love you”

My smile grows even more as I hear those words from him. “I love you too” I whisper and he pulls me in for another loving kiss before looking at me again with his charming smile. We continue to stand in the lab, holding each other and no one of us wanting to let go as we finally confessed our feelings to each other. And it’s just the perfect ending to the work on his suit.

A/N Here is my complete masterlist with all the ff, imagines, oneshots, smut and whatever. Check it out and leave a like :)

[apocalypse-shuffle]

BLACK NOIR | EARVING (the boys)

—

“Pandora’s Melody” (Black Noir x Fem!Reader)

| It’s your first Christmas Benefit since working for Vought and you’re starting to chafe a little at all the rules. Least the music’s finally getting good tho.

| SFW, office rules, workplace discrimination(?), Vought International’s dress code policy & casual disregard of The Crown Act

| Pic Source: The Boys (s1)

| 800+ words

“Don’t fuck this up,” Ashley had said, sweaty handkerchief that was far too drenched to mop anything else up clenched tightly inside her fist, and a closed lip smile straining her spotty red painted lips.

And for your part you’d smiled back, nodded your head like a heavily - and repeatedly - hit bobble head; eager to keep your position and even more desperate not to be seen as the unfriendly black girl lest you lose your job.

To your credit it’s not until far later in the evening when everybody’s inhabitions are totally fucked, the camera crews and reporters are gone, and even most of The Seven have left to do things far less beneath them than attending a company mixer that you loosen the hold your heart’s keeping on Ashley’s words just…a bit.

Suddenly the music gets a little less mind numbingly fucking boring too and your mood gets a little less sullen, and even with your mandatory three inch heels shackled to your feet you finally begin to feel the music. So bobbing along, and finally downing the singular glass you’d been nursing the whole evening, you find yourself searching out whoever’s creating the new and far more engaging melody.

Your heart almost stops when you realize it’s Black Noir at the piano, gloved fingers flying over the keys, quite literally the only hero still bothering to attend this thing.

When a quick glance up shows that even Mr. Edgar’s no longer in attendance - though never unseeing you’re sure - you start talking mostly out of shock. You’ve never really been this close to any of the hero’s before now.

“Good - ah - good choice,” you murmur, “Hapless is really just such a downer for a Christmas Benefit.”

Muscles tense and breath short, fingers clasped together behind your back like a vice, you wait a beat for his reaction.

When all he does is kind of glance your way though you nearly breath out a sigh right in front of him before catching yourself, and you feel so free that for a second you want to take your hair down from its “more professional” slicked back bun so you can really feel the music through you.

Instead you untuck your dress shirt to quell the urge. Fuck, your pantssuit was starting to feel increasingly more suffocating the longer you worked here. At this point you felt like you’d end up buried in the damn thing then forced to partially exist as a pantsuit wearing ghost for the rest of your forever unrest for good measure—

—annnd think positive thoughts. The music is good, you want to sway. You settle for keeping up your subtle head bop and adding a few soundless taps against your thigh to the mix.

After he doesn’t slice you in half - or some other such gruesome death dealing action - you take another few moments to identify the song Noir himself has begun playing.

It’s lovely, and as much as you want to close your eyes to visualize the song’s name a bit better in your mind you opt not to so you can continue watching the way that Noir plays.

It’s more graceful than you’d expect (but considering the way you’d seen him train that was a little foolish of you). The silent hero’s fingers move across the keys like a true virtuoso, hands gliding from note to note with hardly a thought but still exactly right. In the entire time that it takes you to place the song he doesn’t miss a single beat and doesn’t lose his tempo; not a thing about how he plays looks or even sounds off.

Normally you’d be remiss to label anything perfect, but if there were ever an exception…

…Noir’s playing was perfect.

A small smile stretches your plush lips.

Delightfully so.

“The Minute Waltz,” you say after finally placing the song, only shuffling in place a little.

Which is how in the next minute you end up seated next to him after his head had snapped to you - and honestly you’d half figured he’d stopped minding you by that point so you’d been plenty surprised to find out otherwise.

Black Noir had stared you into submission with exactly one incline of his head to convey his invitation in any clear manner until, with held breath and a prayer, you’d sat down beside him where he’d made room on the piano bench.

Then it’s touch and go as - with your heart firmly in your throat and hoping to god you don’t screw anything up - Noir takes to eventually wanting you as more than just a captive audience. He plays a few simple chords, pauses, then looks over to you until after not too long you begin copying him.

By the end of the function your heart’s settled and you can slowly, but steadily, get through the entirety of Gymnopedie No.1 - with Noir pushing the pedal of course.

He even gives you a little silent round of applause once you’ve played through it on your own.

Like that, Noir at your side and surrounded by all the drunk limp dicks you work with tripping and throwing up over themselves, is the first time you feel like a real part of Vought.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!

Um, I just wrote this tonight at random and with a cold so if there’s mistakes no there isn’t. Also, it’s Christmas and I figured I had a themed fic in me tonight so here you go and Happy Holidays (I guess)!

Don’t question how the Reader-Insert knows the names of these songs, it doesn’t matter.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[srvbryn]

ᝰ.ᐟ Mistletoe

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Bi-Han X FEM! Reader

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Summary: Someone 'accidentally' left the Christmas misteltoe up at a New Year’s Eve party attended by both (name) and Bi-Han.

Amidst the echoes of New Year's festivities, Kuai Liang's mischievous grin betrayed his secret as he "accidentally" left the Christmas mistletoe hanging above. The room, adorned with remnants of the year's end celebration, became a stage for unforeseen connections between (Name) and Bi-Han, the Sub-Zero brothers.

(Name) couldn't help but notice the beautiful foliage above while exuding elegance in the holiday mood. Her lips curved into a knowing smile as she considered the possibility of unexpected encounters beneath the greenery. As the mistletoe dangled like a symbol of serendipity, the air was electrified with a mixture of laughter and anticipation.

With his enigmatic presence, Bi-Han watched the playful scene unfold. Mistletoe, a source of festive mischief, seemed to beckon those who dared to succumb to its tradition. Unbeknownst to (Name), she unwittingly became a participant in this charming dance of fate.

Tomas and Kuai Liang quietly revelled in the outcome of their "accidental" gesture as the night progressed. The mistletoe, once a forgotten Christmas relic, now held the promise of unexpected connections. The room was alive with laughter and conversation, as well as the unspoken challenge posed by the festive greenery.

(Name), caught in the midst of this delightful chaos, shared glances with both Sub-Zero brothers. Kuai Liang, the architect of this festive twist, exchanged a knowing look with Tomas, acknowledging the unintentional enchantment they had unleashed upon the party.

The music, which served as a lively backdrop to the unfolding drama, encouraged partygoers to sway to its beat. (Name), fueled by the holiday spirit, was drawn to the mistletoe. The unspoken question was: who would be the daring participant in this unexpected dance of tradition?

As (Name) stood beneath the mistletoe, a subtle tension enveloped the room. Bi-Han, known for his reserved demeanor, approached with a quiet confidence. Their eyes locked, and in that moment, tradition and spontaneity collided. The room held its breath as (Name) and Bi-Han shared a kiss beneath the Christmas mistletoe, a fleeting yet enchanting exchange that seemed to transcend time.

After a brief hush, the party erupted in cheers and applause. The mistletoe, now a witness to a magical connection, became a symbol of the unexpected joys that emerge when tradition and spontaneity collide. Kuai Liang and Tomas, overjoyed with the success of their "accidental" ruse, joined the party, adding their laughter to the chorus of joy.

In the end, beneath the lingering glow of New Year's lights, (Name) and Bi-Han's unexpected kiss beneath the Christmas mistletoe became a cherished memory.

[badboydevotee]

Beneath the Glitter

"Today is my birthday, so you're dining in style. I'm not going to eat any though, so you can finish it off." -Fico's birthday voiceline.

The restaurant was as extravagant as it was exclusive—a gleaming beacon of opulence nestled among the glittering skyscrapers. Its walls were adorned with velvet drapes and the air was filled with the gentle hum of classical music, the subtle clink of silverware, and the rustle of hushed conversations. Outside, the city glittered under the fading light of dusk, but inside, it was a world of indulgence, where the rich and powerful gathered to feast, to gossip, to flaunt their successes. You sat across from him, your heart a tangled mess of confusion and hesitation, unsure of what to make of the invitation. Romeo Scorpius Lucci, the man who oozed wealth and arrogance with every step he took, had asked you to join him for dinner. On his birthday, no less. But there was something unsettling about it—something you couldn’t quite place. His gaze was sharp, his posture immaculate, but his lips were pressed into a thin, cruel line. 

You had known Romeo for a while now, ever since you had crossed paths at the casino. He was a man of sharp edges, a man whose temper could ignite the room with a mere glance. It wasn’t hard to hear the stories—the whispers about how he had once been the crowned king of the fashion world, only to watch it crumble down to dust, and how he had clawed his way back from that fall with a vengeance. Everything about him screamed ambition and control, but today… today, he was different. The usual fire in his magenta eyes was muted, replaced by something unreadable.

He took a sip from his glass of wine, his lips curling slightly as he glanced at you, still silent. His hair, perfectly styled with the right side falling slightly longer than the left, caught the light from the chandelier above. The tips of his short gray hair darkened almost imperceptibly as it cascaded over his earring—each one a solid gold hoop, gleaming as brightly as the man himself. Despite the tension in the air, he looked… untouchable. Beautiful, even, though you’d never admit that to his face.

“This is a fine dining experience, BB” he said, his voice low but sharp, like the edge of a well-honed blade. “They’ve prepared a special tasting menu just for us.”

His tone held a hint of something else—something strange, like a thin layer of ice coating his usual arrogance. As he looked down at the elegant table setting, his red eyes—darker now in the dim lighting—flashed with irritation. You knew better than to speak when he was in one of these moods, especially when his temper seemed so volatile.

“It’s too bad you don’t have any appetite for the finer things in life,” you said softly, hoping to ease the tension in the room, to break through the wall he’d built around himself.

Romeo chuckled darkly, his lips curling into a wry smile. His voice came out clipped and almost condescending, like he was humoring you—one of the few things he ever did with genuine attention.

“Today is my birthday,” he declared, the words sharp and almost bitter as they passed his lips. “So you’re dining in style. I’m not going to eat any of it, though,” he added, leaning back in his chair with a languid stretch. His fingers grazed his gold earring absentmindedly, a habitual gesture that you’d seen him do countless times before. It was almost like he needed it to remind him that he was still in control. “You can finish it off.”

A part of you wanted to protest. You knew how meticulously Romeo valued every detail, every ounce of luxury and decadence. To see him not even touch the food—food that had been specially prepared—felt… wrong. But it wasn’t your place to question him. Not now. Not when his presence was so overwhelming, like the dark storm clouds gathering on the horizon.

The waiter approached, setting down a series of dishes one after the other: delicate amuse-bouches, perfectly seared foie gras, intricately arranged seafood towers, and the main course—a tender cut of wagyu beef, its rich aroma drifting through the air. It was a meal fit for royalty, but Romeo, true to his word, didn't so much as glance at it.

You stared at the plate before you, the warm light of the candles reflecting off the fine porcelain. The aroma of the food was intoxicating. It was rich, indulgent, everything he loved. Yet, there he sat, staring at his glass of wine, as if lost in thought, as if the celebration wasn’t for him at all.

“I told you, didn’t I?” Romeo said, breaking the silence, his voice now sharp with a hint of something deeper. “I’m not here to enjoy this. I have no time for pleasure when I’ve got more important things to attend to.”

You raised an eyebrow, a fleeting moment of disbelief washing over you. His obsession with money and status had always been something you’d never fully understood. But this… this felt like more. There was something in his eyes now, a flicker of vulnerability that he desperately tried to mask with that familiar sharpness, with the cold indifference that kept everyone at arm’s length.

His fingers drummed impatiently on the table, the sound of his rings against the fine wood the only noise in the otherwise still room. It was then that you realized the truth: this wasn’t a simple birthday dinner. He was fighting something. Fighting it in a way that was both desperate and painfully obvious.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” you said quietly, pushing aside the delicate silver fork, suddenly aware of how strange the situation was. You’d never seen Romeo act like this before. He was always so in control, so driven by his insatiable hunger for success and wealth.

Romeo’s eyes flicked to you, his magenta irises flashing dangerously. His hand shot out, his fingers tightening around your wrist as he leaned forward, his voice low and unyielding. “You think I’m doing this for you? For anyone?” He let out a short, derisive laugh. “No. I’m doing this because I can. Because I have to.”

You didn’t pull away from his grip. It was firm, a reminder of how tightly he held everything in his life—his empire, his ambitions, even his emotions. You could see the strain in his jaw, the barely concealed rage flickering in the depths of his gaze.

“You can’t outrun your past, Fico,” you said softly, using the nickname he’d always insisted on. “You can’t keep punishing yourself like this. You deserve to enjoy something—just once.”

Romeo’s expression faltered, just for a second. It was as though your words had pierced through that armor of pride and defiance. His grip on your wrist loosened, and for a brief, almost imperceptible moment, the walls around him seemed to crack.

“I’m not like you,” he muttered, a rare admission slipping from his lips. “I can’t afford to be.”

You reached out, gently taking his hand. The warmth of your touch seemed to ground him in a way that nothing else had been able to. His eyes met yours, and for once, he didn’t look away, didn’t snap, didn’t rage. He simply stared, as if weighing the unspoken connection between the two of you.

“Maybe you can,” you said quietly, your voice a soft whisper in the midst of all the grandeur and extravagance. “Maybe you just need to let someone in.”

The air between you seemed to hum with something unspoken. He exhaled sharply, as if the weight of everything was momentarily too much to bear. For the first time in ages, Romeo Scorpius Lucci didn’t seem like the cold, calculating man who’d clawed his way to the top.

For a fleeting moment, he simply looked… human. And in that moment, something shifted between you both.

With a slow, almost reluctant movement, he picked up his fork, piercing a delicate slice of wagyu, before setting it back down with a soft sigh.

“Fine,” he muttered, his usual arrogance slipping back into his voice. “I’ll have a bite. But only because it’s my damn birthday.”

And for the first time that evening, you both shared a genuine laugh.

You couldn’t help but smile as Romeo finally took a bite of the wagyu, his eyes momentarily closing in appreciation. It wasn’t much—a small victory—but it was something. It was a crack in the armor, a rare moment where the walls around him seemed to crumble, just a little. And as he chewed slowly, his usual sharp gaze softened ever so slightly.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” you said, teasing him gently as you picked up your own fork. You couldn’t resist—he might be insufferable at times, but there was something undeniably magnetic about him. His stubbornness, his pride, even his scornful nature—everything about him was a puzzle that you couldn’t seem to put down.

Romeo's lips curled into that familiar smirk, but it was different now—less biting, more amused, like he was letting you in on some private joke only he understood.

“I’m not the one who’s impossible here,” he shot back, his tone still sharp but with a hint of warmth underneath. He leaned back in his chair, looking at you as though he were sizing you up, like you were the most intriguing thing in the room, despite the luxury that surrounded you both. His gaze lingered longer than it should have, as though he were trying to figure out why you, of all people, had the ability to disarm him so effortlessly.

You tilted your head, studying him in return. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him so vulnerable, but it was the first time he’d let you see it without the walls of anger and pride. For all his bluster, Romeo was a man driven by a hunger that went deeper than money or power—it was something else. Something raw. Something broken.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Fico,” you said, leaning in slightly, your voice low and steady. “But you don’t have to keep pretending you’re some perfect machine, only running on fuel and ambition. You’re allowed to—”

“Stop.” He raised a hand, his voice firm but not hostile. There was a slight tremor in his fingers, a hint of something beneath the surface. "I don’t *need* anyone’s pity or concern."

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the defensiveness in his tone. “I’m not offering either of those. Just... maybe a little bit of understanding. Maybe I’m the one who’s trying to figure out the puzzle.”

Romeo stared at you, his magenta eyes gleaming in the low light, and for a moment, the world outside the restaurant seemed to fall away. It was just the two of you, in this little bubble of rich, warm air, surrounded by fine dining and too many untold stories.

“I don’t need understanding,” he muttered, though there was a softness to his words that didn’t match his usual fire. “I just need what’s mine. What’s owed to me.”

You nodded slowly, acknowledging the truth in his words. His relentless pursuit of what he had lost was something you couldn’t ignore. The dreams of grandeur that haunted him. You could see it now, clearer than before—the weight that crushed him. It wasn’t just about money, not really. It was about power, control, and reclaiming something he had once thought was within his grasp, only to watch it slip away.

"Then I guess that makes two of us," you said quietly, and for a second, you wondered if he understood the subtle implication.

Romeo didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took another bite of the food, his lips pressing into a thin line as he chewed thoughtfully. His magenta eyes flicked up to meet yours once more, the tension between you thickening as the air seemed to charge with something unspoken.

“I’m not someone you should get close to, you know,” he finally said, his voice low and earnest, a trace of something vulnerable creeping into his tone. "I’m not the kind of person who lets anyone in."

You knew that already. You knew that better than anyone else. But you also knew something he didn’t seem to realize—that sometimes, letting someone in wasn’t about fixing the broken parts. Sometimes, it was just about *being* there, without the expectation of anything in return.

“And yet, here we are,” you said softly, offering him a wry smile. “Maybe you don’t have to let me in. Maybe I’m just here for the ride.”

For a moment, Romeo’s gaze flickered, like he was deciding whether to laugh or argue. Instead, he simply looked at you—really looked at you—and the tension between you seemed to soften, just a fraction. The walls that had always been so solid around him were starting to bend. You weren’t sure if they’d ever come down completely, but for now, this—this strange, tentative truce—was enough.

Romeo took another sip of wine, his posture returning to something more casual, almost like he was letting go of some of the weight that had been pressing down on him all evening. His magenta eyes softened, not in affection, but in a quiet understanding that he didn’t need to push you away. Not yet, at least.

“So,” he said, his voice returning to its usual cocky tone, “this is a fine meal, but I expect you to finish it all. It’s my birthday, after all. And I do have a reputation to maintain.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused despite yourself. "You *really* are impossible," you muttered, but there was a smile tugging at your lips that you couldn’t quite suppress.

Romeo’s lips quirked into a smirk, his eyes glinting mischievously. “You’ll get used to it. Eventually.”

And just like that, the moment passed, and the two of you fell back into the dance you knew all too well—his sharp remarks and your knowing smiles, the ever-present tension between you both. But now, there was something else there too. A hint of understanding. A crack in his façade. 

Maybe he didn’t need to admit it out loud. But for once, Romeo Scorpius Lucci wasn’t the terrifying, untouchable man he always tried to be. And maybe—just maybe—neither were you.

The rest of the evening passed in a strange, comfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional teasing remark, the clinking of silverware, and the soft sound of laughter that lingered between you both. And for once, the glistening city outside didn’t feel so far away.

It felt, for the first time in a long time, like it was within reach.

Ao3 vers.

Please love Romi <3

[fkmarrycill]

One Shot: Pre-Gaming

(Pic added after the original post because it totally fits the vibe of the story. 😌)

1191 words, 🔞 for that smut

Notes:

Can you tell I'm really, really concerned about how our man will survive awards season? ☺️ I'm not sure if he'll attend any of the shows (really hope he does), or if he has any rituals for situations like this, but this is where my imagination took me. 😈

This is pure fiction, and in this scenario, Cillian is in a relationship, but not married and no kids. I read Cillian as an intelligent, decent, sometimes awkward guy who is also capable of being spicy when needed or desired. 😌

It's M/F dynamic, and I often keep the lady leads generic in description so more people can imagine along. 😉

Thanks for reading! ❤️

Cillian had gone silent. His arms were crossed, and he was staring out the window. Maybe he saw the city cruise by, or maybe he was too lost in thought to notice; she couldn't tell. All she knew was that he was relaxed at the hotel, but as soon as the limo door shut, his mood had changed.

She'd had her hand on his thigh for the whole ride so far. That subtle reminder of her support wasn't enough for him, she realized, but she knew what would be.

“Cill?” She addressed him gently.

“Mmm?” He responded absentmindedly.

Definitely lost in thought. “You need to relax. I'm going to make you feel better before we get there. Would you like head, or a quickie? Neither is not an answer.”

“That obvious that I'm fucking nervous, eh?” He chuckled in spite of himself. “Of course, I would’ve rather stayed home, but…” He trailed off and watched her kneel before him and begin to unzip and lower his tuxedo pants.

“What?” She said in response to his quizzical expression. “I thought maybe this would help you decide.” She looked up at him and winked. At this moment, she was glad she'd chosen the little black lace number instead of the gown with the train. She'd be able to move more freely for him, and it would be harder to mess up the dress.

“Now, what’ll you have, Mr. Murphy?” She placed her hands on his thighs and caressed them softly.

He glanced at the closed partition between them and the driver, checked his watch, and a mischievous grin bloomed on his face. He leaned forward. “Looks like we have plenty of time. Hmmm… Film award nominees tend to get special treatment, isn't that right? Give me both, love. Your mouth first, then that irresistible cunt.”

“Spoken with the confidence of a winner, whether it's tonight or another night. It's coming, either way.”

“Just like me, in a matter of moments, thanks to you.” He tried and failed to stifle a laugh. “Christ, we sound like some dreadfully unimaginative 70s porn! Let's stop talking, before we turn each other off.”

“Excellent idea.”

Both of them laughed, partners in crime with the same sense of humor.

She gave him one last affectionate smile, then began to caress his thighs with long, soft strokes that made him shift on his seat. She traced the same path with her lips, on one thigh, then the other, nuzzling the expanses of skin.

He turned the volume up on the music, in anticipation of giving in to wherever she led him. She stretched herself higher and loomed over his lap, then tugged at his underwear. He shifted on the seat to help her efforts in removing her last barrier. He placed his hands on her head and squeezed softly, a gentle request for the warmth of her lips on his hardened, eager cock.

He groaned softly as her lips surrounded his girth and her hands connected with him, and he hissed, eyes shut tightly, when she teased the sensitive underside of his dick with her tongue.

His million-dollar face contorted–jaw clenched, brow furrowed, nostrils flared, full lips parted–as he savored her work. By then, she had taken more of him in, feasting on his length with her enthusiastic licking and sucking.

He began to grind his hips, arching into her mouth to feel her deeper and more intensely.

She loved seeing him like that, focused on the sensations, thoughts as far away as possible from cameras, paparazzi, and all the sequined and bow-tied cogs in the Hollywood machine–everyone they'd be unable to escape for hours once they left their mobile love nest. Giving him release was the least she could do for him. She was well aware of all the effort and sacrifice he put into his celebrated performance as Oppenheimer, and she thought he deserved to be in the right mood to enjoy his moment of recognition, win or lose.

She knew she was wet already, from the way her body throbbed in excitement. She had one more ace to play, one more thing to share that would push him past the point of no return. “I was going to surprise you later,” she murmured conspiratorially, “but this will give you something else to think about in your seat…”

He watched her through glazed, darkened eyes as she climbed into his lap, hiked her dress, and sank down on him, inch by inch.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped. “No fucking panties… Are you trying to kill me?”

“No, babe, I'm just trying to fill your head with good thoughts before we get there.” She rolled her body at a brisk pace and kissed him deeply.

He grasped her hips and overtook the pace of her thrusts, writhing against her in a controlled manner that made both of them wail. She rocked into him and edged closer to being completely undone.

One of his hands crept up to the small of her back, while the other meandered down her leg to find her clit, which he massaged the way she loved, ratcheting up her cries in the process.

Their rhythm quickened some more. A lock of his hair fell down, toward his eyes, and she brushed it back into place. She desperately wanted to clutch her hands in his hair, like she normally did, but quickly nixed the idea, remembering the effort that had gone into his sophisticated look. There'd be plenty of time later for reckless behavior, she thought–on the ride back to the hotel, or in the bed, regardless of whether they were celebrating or preparing to return to their usual pace of life.

“Oh, fuckkkk…” His breathing was shallow, and his face flushed as his eyes rolled back. “I'm gonna…”

“Me, too, baby,” she said, equally breathless. The tightness that had built up at her core gave way to waves of bliss, and moments later, Cillian tensed as his own climax tore through his body.

He held her in a tight hug and kissed the top of her head while they caught their breath.

After a while, she moaned contentedly and looked up at him. “Feeling better, Cill?”

“You have no idea, lass. Thank you.”

“Anytime, my dear, beautiful boyfriend.”

He kissed her softly, then looked at his watch. “We should be there soon, better get ourselves back together as best as we can.”

They scrambled to straighten up and return to their initial positions in the car.

“You know,” started Cillian, as they rounded the corner to the venue, “At some point tonight, when I can't stand it anymore, I'd love to steal away with you to a bathroom or somewhere else that we can be alone…”

“I like the way you think! But what if we get caught?” She gathered her purse and prepared to exit the limo.

“I think ecstatic award winner caught fucking his girlfriend will be much better for my brand,” he said with air quotes, “than those pics of me pissing on the side of the pub, don't you think?” He winked and kissed her passionately.

Before she could respond, he opened the car door and they emerged. They were quickly besieged by camera flashes, and the huge smiles on both their faces were real.

[fu66sun]

telepath; 이동혁

001 |

wc: 1,410

on a chilly autumn evening, the library was the spot for a silent but intense standoff between you and haechan as you tried to study for your looming midterm exam. the library's vibe was peaceful, filled with the subtle rustling of pages and the occasional whispered conversations.

discontentment had been building within you, making you irritable. your hair was unruly, your clothes felt uncomfortable, and even the sound of haechan's breathing was enough to make your blood boil.

haechan, could you please keep your music down? i'm trying to focus here—you whispered, irritation evident.

haechan was not in the best of moods either, whether due to your presence or his ongoing struggle with a particularly vexing problem. he shot back — what's your problem, y/n? i can't study in complete silence. and don't tell me you've never heard of headphones.

you continued in a hushed tone

—haechan, i don't mind if you listen to music, but your taste is atrocious, and it's loud enough for the entire library to hear. have some consideration for others.

haechan's patience was wearing thin, and your talent for getting under his skin was apparent. — my taste is atrocious? that's rich coming from someone who probably listens to elevator music and taylor swift.

—you know, haechan, elevator music is more sophisticated than whatever noise you're playing. this is a library, not your personal concert hall. besides, dude, what does taylor has to do with any of this?

a smirk played on haechan's lips as he added with a hint of sarcasm —oh, i'm sorry, i didn't realize you owned the place. maybe you should run for library monitor of the year, y/n.

the tension in the library escalated, and with renjun nowhere in sight to mediate, you raised your voice at him.

—that's not the point, haechan! the point is, you're being disruptive, and it's making it impossible for me to study. you're impossible, haechan! this is why i can't stand you. you're always so inconsiderate and arrogant!

haechan, not one to back down from a challenge, responded with equal fervor— and you're so uptight and bossy! you act like you own the place.

the library's hushed atmosphere had been disturbed by the verbal showdown between you and haechan. your personalities clashed like two storms, temporarily sidelining your study session and adding a touch of drama to an otherwise quiet, book-filled setting.

when renjun finally made his entrance into the library, it was like a scene straight out of a cartoon. you know, the kind where the hero comes in to save the day. and believe me, you needed some saving.

he just strolled in like he owned the place, as if he hadn't noticed the boiling tension that was about to reach its climax between you and haechan.

but here's the thing, renjun might have looked chill on the outside, but you could see it in his eyes - he knew something was up. he took a quick scan of the room, and his gaze landed on you, locked in a fiery verbal duel with haechan. it was like he had walked into the lion's den, and boy, did he always have a front-row seat to the show.

now, you've got to understand, the library was supposed to be this sanctuary of silence and concentration. but with you and haechan going at it, it felt more like a battlefield. your voices clashed with the hushed whispers of the other students, and the tension was so thick you could practically cut it with a knife.

renjun broke the silence. — hey, what's going on, guys? — he asked, his eyes bouncing back and forth between you and haechan. it was like he had a sixth sense for detecting conflict when it came to you and decided to intervene before things got out of hand.

you were the first to spill the beans.— haechan and i were just, you know, having a disagreement about his music. it's just too loud, and he doesn't seem to care.

haechan's face shifted from annoyed to more neutral as he responded — yeah, and y/n here thinks she's the queen of the library, telling everyone what to do.

it was like renjun had waved a magic wand or something because suddenly, the argument cooled down. haechan reluctantly agreed to turn down the music, and you gave a little nod, agreeing to wear headphones. renjun had brought some much-needed zen into the room.

with the music at a more tolerable level, renjun took a seat at your table, and you got back to studying. the library got back to being quiet, just the usual soft sounds of flipping pages and whispers.

in the days following your heated argument in the library, you couldn't help but stew over your frustration with haechan. the clash over something as seemingly trivial as his music had escalated into a bitter argument that had left you seething. it was a constant reminder of your conflicting personalities and how much you disliked haechan's behavior.

as you sat in a quiet corner of the campus courtyard, you couldn't hold back your feelings any longer.

renjun — you began, a note of exasperation in your voice—i've been thinking about our little trio with haechan. to be honest, i don't understand why we even hang out with him. i mean, he's impossible. i don't even consider him a friend, and... i think i might even hate his stupid guts.

renjun looked at you with a mixture of surprise and concern.

—hate is a strong word, y/n. why do you feel this way?

you leaned in, frustration evident.

— it's not just that one library incident. it's everything about him. it's the debates, it's the constant need to comment on everything i do or don't do. he's so inconsiderate and arrogant. he's constantly pushing my buttons, and I can't stand it. I thought college would be a fresh start, a chance to meet people who are different, but I never expected someone like haechan.

—i get it, y/n. haechan can be a handful, and he's definitely not everyone's cup of tea. but, he has his good sides too, you know?

haechan's expression hardened at renjun's sudden interest in the topic—hate, huh? well, i can't say i'm a big fan of her either.

renjun was taken aback by haechan's response.

—what do you mean, you're not a fan of her?

haechan sighed, leaning back in his chair.

—i don't know, renjun. there's just something about her that really pisses me off. she's so uptight and bossy. it's like she thinks she owns the place. i don't doubt that she's a good friend to you. but I can't stand the way she tries to control everything and act like she's better than everyone else. it's like she's always looking for reasons to argue with me.

now that you and haechan knew how much you hated each other, things seemed to cool down a bit. you didn't want anything to do with him an neither did you. at least the rest of your first semester was a little bit calmer. yes, you did hang out with each other, but never exchanged words, or looks, or anything at all.

you were now, simply, classmates.

at the beginning of the second semester, haechan would be assigned a new roommate, chenle. it was safe to say that you were initially skeptical about how this would pan out.

the three of you already knew chenle because he was in some of your previous classes. you'd exchanged several conversations and were no strangers to one another. that's why you couldn't help but wonder if their personalities would clash, much like yours and haechan's had in the past.

but, over time, something surprising happened. you noticed that haechan and chenle began to bond over shared interests. and they even shared their experiences going to the same stupid high school.

surprised by the seemingly quick development of their friendship, you and renjun decided to give it a chance. and slowly but surely, chenle was almost all the time with the both you.

chenle had a naturally partying persona. he would always brag about this bar near campus, insistin that the four of you should go. and most of the time he would end up convincing haechan, but never renjun or you.

however that would change now that the school was closing down for winter vacations and everyone had to go home for the holidays.

taglist yayy: @sunflowerhae @sundamariis @yesohhsehun @hcheach <3<3<3<3 hope this meets your expectations ahhh