#and then got stuck on the desire to be Good at it and earn the praise of his teacher

[melioraskz]

Rather be your whore than a noble man’s wife.

A/N : I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately… this wasn’t based on anything in particular and is definitely not historically accurate, this is just another universe LOL!

Warning : brief mention of SA, mentions of whores, homophobia (not by any of the characters, just mentioned in a backstory!), giving head (female receiving), tiny hint of overstimulation, almost caught in the act, probably forgot something lol ! NOT PROOFREAD !!!

(Pirate) Han Jisung x (afab) Reader

Summary : After being captured by a gang of bandits you get saved by a mysterious man called Jisung, what you don’t know is that he is in fact something your parents always warned you for, a pirate.

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“Stay away from me!”

“Wow wow wow little lady, relax. I’m not going to harm you” the man in front of you said with his hands up in the air in surrender despite the small yet devilishly sharp knife still laid between his thumb and index finger.

“Do you want my help or not?” He asked, raising a brow as he looked at you up and down.

“I’ve got everything under control, thank you very much” you spat back, sighing deeply as you try to once again squirm out of the tight robe that was around your body and hands.

Everything was in fact not under control. There you were, bound to the pole, hands tied behind your back and hair stuck to your face with the sweat from your forehead, breathing heavy with your dress half cut up by the bandits who took you capture. Despite their desperate tries you had manage to keep them away from you enough for them to not take it further than some disgusting groping and touched here and there. However despite your deadly looks you shot their way it couldn’t take away the looks of desire they shot in your direction as another one tried to cut off a button of your blouse…

The aggravating man who had jumped on board of the ship all cocky started to whistle as he sat up on the edge of the boat, carelessly taking the knife and removed some dirt under his finger nails. “Just let me know when you need my help, missy” he sung, acting all nonchalantly as if he wasn’t also on a bandit ship, all alone against the 30 men that could show up any second. Not that you had any hope that he would survive one of the men for that matter. They were all buff, scary with scars everywhere, you could tell they were up to no good. This guy? He was skinny, lanky built, curly brown hair and despite his aura feeling like he would be a big man… he was quite a short guy.

“Fine, just get me out of here before they come back” you mutter, the guy looking up at you, stopping mid-through the melody he was whistling. Then he shook his head and his lips left a few of tsk tsk tsk to show his displeasure. “What sort of lady are you? Not even a simple please? I’ve met whores down at the red district with more charm and politeness than you” he stated and rose a brow. That awful awful cockiness would drive you mad but you were desperate.

“Please can you help me out of these fucking ropes? I’m not planning on becoming these bandits slave or sex toy” you state, earning a pleased smirk by the mysterious guy who by ease jumped down from the edge and walked up to you. He then easily cut off the rope using the knife before he put it back into the holder in his belt.

“There we go, now I suggest we leave before those idiots come back” he says, a smug smile on his lips. Within a second you had stepped away from the damn pole, singing deeply as you rubbed your previously tied up wrists with your hands to ease the irritation that the rope had caused. “Thanks” you sigh, walking over to the edge and looked out at the dock, multiple ships stood there and you could hear the muffled sounds of parties and people if you looked out to the town ahead of you… “where even are we?” You sigh, not sure where they had taken you, surely from the accent of the man it was far away from your home…

“Welcome to Incheon city, ma’am! The place filled with dreams, nightmares, whores, pirates and a great amount of cheap alcohol” the man burst out, now somehow standing on the edge walking around as if it wasn’t a 10 meter drop down to the ice cold water below. “Oh fuck! I’m Jisung, by the way, Han Jisung” he added. “It’s nice to meet you, what’s your name?” He asked proudly.

You were about to answer when you heard a voice behind you.

“She has escaped!” A roaring man’s voice yelled as he had climbed up the ladder on the other side. You remembered that man very well, after all he had tried to fuck you at least seven times since your capture a few days ago. Along with him came 4 others, you look back at Jisung with panicked eyes, but you were met by a pair of awfully calm ones. He let out a sigh in displeasure, almost as if he thought the whole ordeal were just bothersome.

“Alright boys, let’s say after me” Jisung started, grabbing one of the robes that the bandits used to climb up to the watch tower. “If you are despite to get a quick fuck, go to a whore house, not kidnap someone” he then continued, cutting the rope off with the knife he had previously used on the ropes that had you tied up. Then before the men could reach you he swung in the rope, using his legs and made 2 of the men fall to the ground in a loud groan. That’s when he grabbed both of the men’s revolvers, tossing one of them to you, which you catch in pure panic. Looking at the man, he easily got all men on the floor, despise them being twice his weight. “Close those pretty eyes for me, pretty lady” Jisung instructed, as if it was an instinct you did exactly like he said and as soon as your eyelids had fallen down so all you saw was darkness the ship echoed with a shot, another another, another and-

“All done, missy” a voice said, opening your eyes you saw the men’s lifeless bodies on the wooden floor, blood painting the deck that poured out of their head. It wasn’t the first time you had ever encountered a dead body before but it was certainly the first time seeing so much blood at the same time, despite being outside you swore you could smell the stench of iron in the red dark liquid ahead of you. Jisung however didn’t give you the luxury to take in the scene for more than a few second, he had other plans. He grabbed the rope he had used before and swung in it, grabbing your waist as you let out a screech, holding onto him with all dear might. You were certain you’d fall straight into the ice cold water below but before you could think twice you felt your feet hit a steady familiar sensation. You open your eyes you had no clue that you even closed in the first place and there you were, still holding onto the man with all your might but standing on the ground below…

“We should leave before more men come back and notice the tiny little mess I caused on their ship” he stated, you realise how damn close he was to your body… your heart beating fast in your chest, perhaps it was the adrenaline of being rescued or seeing the dead bodies that flooded through you, perhaps it was for the fact that this bold man had laid his hands on you and it wasn’t for the wrong intentions, at least that’s what you thought it was?

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The music was loud, people chit chattering even louder, women with dresses that enhances the chest area was practically fucking some men in the corners. But after what you went through? The dodgy bar that Jisung took you to was a luxury hotel from what you had been dealing with capture at that ship…

You get snapped out of your thoughts with about bang, in front of you stood now a large pint of beer, fizzing and foaming up to the edges. Jisung then sat down and took a large chunk of his own pint he still held in his hand. “There we go, don’t worry, the beer is on me. I figured you’d need it after that whole experience. I doubt those shitheads knows how to feed a lady” he stated, chuckling a bit, using the other chair next to him as a stand for his feet as he let out a groan in relief. “Now, what was that name of yours? I didn’t get catch it last time”

“My name?”

“Your name”

“Oh, right. It’s Y/N, Y/L/N Y/N” you whispered. When you said your surname you saw how Jisung choked on his beer, almost spitting it out again in shock. He hit his chest repeatedly until the beer had gone down the right pipe again.

“Fucking hell? As in the Y/L/N-clan? You’re their daughter? You’re a fucking high class noble woman! How the fuck did you end up captured by them then? Isn’t that miles and miles away?” He asked. Looking at you with huge eyes, the foam of the beer had given him a light moustache. You let out a slight giggle from the look on his face, then you take a big chunk of your own beer.

“I ran away, they set you marry me away 4 days ago, that night I couldn’t take it, I hated that old man they set me up with, he was at least three times my age but the wallet weight more than my family’s love for me I suppose. What I didn’t calculate for was that I’d be captured in the middle of the night by those men who had no idea who I was, so they said they’d keep me as their whore, slave or both. I sailed stuck to that pole until this evening, so thank you for saving me, I wish I could repay you but I don’t have anything of worth on me” you whispered, feeling a flood of guilt flush over you, he had saved your life and you couldn’t even repay him?

“I’m not asking for a payment, Y/N. I saved you because I felt like it, not from the goodness of my heart, not from whatever your noble brain can come up with, I saved you because I was bored and saw you on their deck. Alright? No need to pay me” he stated. Crossing his feet over the other on the chair next to him.

“But there must be something-“

“Enough. I don’t need anything I promise, we’re alright” he said quickly. Looking directly into your eyes. You could feel your heart beat faster again… it could possibly not be adrenaline now, right? For sure he is handsome, but is he even your type? Do you even have a type?

“So what will happen with you now? I’d say get a new dress is your first option, you can’t walk around with your tits almost hung out unless you want someone to accuse you for being a whore” Jisung stated, which made your cheeks flush in embarrassment. You quickly tried to gather the material that was left from what the men had cut off, looking down at your ripped and ruined clothings...

“I have no money and nowhere to go, but do not worry about me, I’ll find a way” I say calmly, smiling in a reassuring manner, even if you were terrified. When you had ran away from home you had no plan, you just knew you had to get out of there before it was too late…

“I may have an old dress or two for you to get, neither of my mates will mind, it’s not like they walk around in a skirt ever..”

“Your mates?”

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Your chest was beating faster than ever, you felt like you’d pass out any moment…

“You’re a pirate?”

Your entire life your parents had warned you about the pirates that hunted the seven seas. They took what they wanted, murdered, fucked the women and ran off, your father had always said if you ever had the displease of coming a cross a pirate run away and don’t look back before you call the local sheriff. Perhaps if you had heard about this before he rescued you, you’d agree to your father’s words but now? Especially after spending a couple hours with the man you had come to quite enjoy his company. A sexy man who seemed charming enough with perhaps a bit too big of an ego than you’d like, how could he be such a criminal? Being a pirate is a death sentence if you get caught, you won’t even get a trial? Why would this man choose this path of life?

“What did you expect?” Jisung asked in an amused tone as he practically carried you up the rope to his ship, placing you down on the edge of the ships railing, letting you sit there as he climbed on the other side and then carried you bridal style over to the deck where he sat you down carefully.

“I thought you-“

“Were a man of honour and prosperity? Ma’am you’ve come to the wrong place if you’re looking for a hero or a good man” he stated as he fumbled up a key that was hooked on a piece of string around his neck underneath his shirt. He then unlocked the giant trap door leading to the inside of the ship. You both climb down there, you were met by the stench of rum and seawater which made you make a slight grimace.

“We should have some women’s clothing down here from when we raided this noble family all the way in Busan. Like fuck you should have seen those dumb posh faces when-“ he stopped himself, realising that you may take offence by his harsh words about the upper class since he now knew you were upper class as well. “Sorry..”

“No offence taken. To be quite frank, there is a reason I left that place, no money in the world could make me feel happy in that hell. I may have lived in a mansion but that mansion was a jail impossible to break out of in my eyes” you say, sighing deeply as you start to look around through bits and bobs that was scattered around the room. “To be honest I’m envying you. You’re free, away from responsibilities, marriage, birthing children, preferably sons and don’t even get me started on the dreadful gatherings, all the noble ladies wanted to speak about was money of men. I’m tired of it..” you say, slowly turning to a desk with a bunch of documents and paper on it, on the top of a shelf that stood right above the desk was a picture in a frame of 8 young men next to the very ship they were in right now, you could easily pick out where Jisung were despite the low resolution of the picture, with his arm around one of the other guys with a huge smile on his mouth.

“That’s my crew, you see the one with the hat is our leader, or captain, Chan is his name. It started when him and I met all the way in Australia where we stole this glory out of some poor bastard who used it for the queens guards, we decorated it and then before we could leave Australia we met this poor bloke called Felix who joined us” Jisung explained, then pointing at a guy with long bright hair who was winking with one eye. “He already had a huge penny on his head at home after his father found out he was a homosexual, we took him in, we don’t give a fuck who he sticks his dick inside, he is our brother nonetheless” he stated.

“That’s very beautiful if you ask me. You claim to be a bad person but a bad person wouldn’t do that” you explained slowly, looking at him, realising he stood right behind you, with his head almost hanging over your shoulder so that he also could view the old frame, you slowly chew on the inside of your cheek… he really was handsome for a pirate… Han clear his throat before he continues, slowly feeling a bit unease by her words, why would a lady like her truly find him, a criminal, that good?

“Well we figured as we were going to be pirates we already would have a straight way to the gallons if caught, adding hiding a gay man on the list didn’t seem too bad” Jisung stated, looking at you for a few seconds before his eyes quickly turn to the picture again.

“And that’s Seungmin and Jeongin, we met them finally enough at that raid in Busan, they joined us quickly, they’re young but extremely fun and always tells the best stories when we are up late at night around a campfire” he explains with a slight smile. “Oh and that’s Changbin, Hyunjin and Minho. Minho is second captain after Chan, he is also the head cook, probably the only one of us that can actually cook well. Changbin is also the fastest at climbing ropes you’ll ever see! I swear we have accused him of being a witch at least fourteen times!” He explained, smiling at himself as he thought of his dear friends. “And a little secret, we are fairly sure that Felix has had sex with Hyunjin before, we don’t know when but there is something with the way they act…However, whenever we try to get some information out of them they bulge, what a dumb bunch for thinking we’d judge them” he explained and laughed. “They’re all dumb but… they’re the only family I have left”

“Where are they now then?” You ask, realising you hadn’t even seen a trace of any of the said men since you entered the ship.

“Oh they’re in town, probably getting fucked up with all the alcohol, that was my plan too until… yeah” Jisung admitted. “I’m sorry for ruining your plans, Jisung” you sigh as you quickly turn around, face as close as it could be without touching from each other, his eyes looking almost black in front of you due to the lack of light in there… your heart racing faster and faster, he was dangerously close to you, with one hand resting on the shelf behind you, trapping you between the desk and his body…

“Trust me… I’m glad I had my plans changed, otherwise I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of meeting you” Jisung whisper, you can feel his breath against your skin, keeping you eyes at him you slowly placed one hand on his chest that was slightly exposed due to the buttons he had unbuttoned. You swore you could see a slight smirk on his lips perk up. You could feel his hand that wasn’t against the shelf behind you travel to your lower back in a firm get gentle grip.

Before you could even think of what you were doing, you kissed him. You didn’t know what went through your head fuck you liked it. You could taste the beer you had previously had in your mouth as the kiss progressed, deepening and becoming more rough as you became familiar with each other. He hadn’t even questioned it as he had kissed you back the moment your lips met his.

The kiss was hot, breathy, yet you felt more relaxed with this man than you had ever done with a man at home. You felt how his hand that was on the shelf met your hip on the opposite side as the other before he easily lift up up and placed your ass on the table behind you. Then for a moment he broke the kiss before his mouth traveled along your mouth down to your neck and collarbone. You let a moan slip through your lips, the only sound echoing through the walls was the sounds of your heavy breaths along with whatever sound the sea could make from the shore.

His mouth leads its way back to yours, unable to stay away from it for too long. You let your tongue run over his bottom lip and he opens his mouth for you. When you feel his tongue meet yours, blistering electricity shocks down your spine in pure lust. You kiss him harder, his tongue mapping out every inch of yours as if he is in search of the lost treasure in there. He pulls your legs apart so he can stand right between them, feeling his body pressed against yours. You let his hands roam your body, then as he grabs some of the poor material that still held your chest in decent coverage and you hear a loud skrratch. That fucker tore it! As if it was barely anything to tore anyways… his hands cupped your breasts, breathing heavy into your mouth. His hands was fucking cold, but oh it felt so good. He then stop kissing you for a moment, looking into your eyes as both tried to desperately catch your breaths. The tension was electrifying.

“Can I fuck you?” He ask out of the blue after a few seconds of being silence.

As the words left his mouth it took you by a surprise, asking that question when your tits was already free for him when you had willingly had him like this. Almost a comedic moment and a rather funny timing on his part. Instead of answering you grabbed his shirt, giving him a wet kiss on the mouth. He took that sentence as a yes.

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You had never met a pirate before, let alone fucked one. But there you were. He had somehow managed to move you from the desk to the floor. His shirt tossed somewhere along the way along with his trousers. Your upper part of the dress torn a long time ago but your long skirt still intact, him? He was under your skirt between your legs, licking long stripes on your pussy, holding his strong hands around your thighs, partly for keeping you from closing them around him, partly because himself needed something to hold on to.

Your moans echoed through the room, your legs trembling as you covered your upper part of the face with your hand, moaning louder. His mouth doing wonders down there as you were slowly feeling like you’ll reach your peak any moment now.

“I’m gonna cum, Jisung” you breathe out, heavy breaths making it almost impossible for you to say a full sentence.

“Then cum for me, darling” he growled from under your skirt, a loud slap echoed as you felt his hand slap ass. That slap was almost like the last thing you needed, you felt the knotting feeling in your lower stomach build up to the point where it overflow. You let out a breath of pleasure as you came, breathing heavy as you tried to catch your breath. You felt how Jisung kept licking up every single drop of you, feeling your legs turn into jelly as you tried to catch your high along with handling the overstimulation happening.

That’s when you heard it…

“Why is it unlocked?”

“I don’t know”

Then you heard a click, they’re loading their revolver…

Jisung knew that voice extremely well, so the panic arose even faster. He quickly got out of your skirt, his lips glossy from your fluids. “Fuck fuck fuck” he whispered, trying to gather his clothes.

“Guys it’s just me” he yelled, hoping if they were faster than him it would lead to at least them not being shot. That’s when he also tossed one of the dresses he promised you your way, quickly trying to put on his trousers. You act fast as well, doing everything in your power to get the damn dress on and you threw the old dress into a pile of hay in the corner. If you had more time to think perhaps it would be more melodramatic, throwing away the last piece of your old life as if it was nothing. But now? You had no time to think.

You signalled to the halfway dressed man to help you with the zipper in the back. Jisung went right into action, rushing over to you, managing with a trembling hand to get the zipper up right in time for…

“Who’s that?” A voice Said, you remembered him from the picture, that’s Chan, the captain.

“Oh!” Jisung said, clearing his throat, quickly wiping his mouth from whatever excess that was left from you. “This is Miss Y/N. I.. I- uh-“ Jisung said in panic, not sure how to explain to his captain what the fuck he had been doing down here. “I-I was lending her one of our dresses, it’s not like we use them right? I accidentally ruined hers by dropping beer on it” he lies, giving the captain a half sided smile. “But now as you can see she is in the dress so I’ll just go ahead and help her off the ship, thanks” he said and practically pushed you up the ladder to the deck of the ship, leaving the confused captain to wonder what the hell he just witnessed.

“D-Do I really have to go?” You ask slowly, looking at him under the moonlight, a light breeze making his hair blow in the wind… you felt a lump in your stomach again, not like last time, this time you knew… you didn’t wanna leave him.

“W-Well we sail at dawn and perhaps you should find a new place to stay and-“

“Can’t I stay with you?”

“Y/N… I can’t ask that of you? You’ll become a criminal, a whore in the eye of law?” He say, his eyes giving such soft look yet so much pain behind them at the idea of you perhaps leaving for good… you slowly walk up to him, placing one hand on his cheek, making him look at you… he had shown you more humanity, more freedom and lust within these few hours you’d known him than anyone else… you knew you had to stay here…

“I rather be your whore than a noble man’s wife” you whisper, looking into his eyes, seeing how the pain in his eyes flood away and replace with happiness as he grabs your waist, lifts you up and spin you two around, letting out a loud laugh of happiness. You let out a screech and held onto his shoulders tightly as he spun you in case he would drop you, not that he ever would… As he sit you down again he remove his hands form your waits and cups your cheeks like you cupped his a moment ago, placing a couple chaste kisses on your mouth.

“Oh this is” kiss “going to be” kiss kiss “fucking great!” Kiss kiss kiss “I’ll show you the world, I’ll show you what real freedom is”

You couldn’t answer before you heard a voice. You look over at the trapdoor where Chans head stuck out, he held up the dress from the haystack between two fingers.

“Uh, guys? I thought you said it had beer on it, not that you ripped it apart..”

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[noxexistant]

it’s so not feasible in literally any universe but the concept of morris doing ballet still possesses me body and soul

[autumnalhalcyon]

.

[dumbbitchgalore]

Bringing out the horny in Old man!Price at his retirement party 💦

This is the day that made him feel old as fuck. A retirement party at 45 although his bones preface by saying that they are in their 70s. It’s safe to say that being a SAS soldier has taken quite a toll on the poor man.

And the worse pain of all, being diagnosed with erectile dysfunction at 40. How could his body be so selfish and do something like that to him, especially since he’s got you to keep happy.

Once again, the universe was turning its back on him like a big ‘fuck you’ as John enters his midlife crisis. Now, you on the other hand did not give a flying fuck about his erectile dysfunction. In fact, it made you love him even more!

You adore his useless cock. Cock warming is amazing with his limp dick resting inside of you occasionally twitching every once in a while making you burst with satisfaction and not to mention blowjobs. It’s heavenly to have his useless cock stuffed in your mouth and you wouldn’t have it any either way.

Tonight, John had a scowl on his face as he sipped his beer. Coming up from behind, you hug him tightly earning a chuckle from John and a hand resting on top of yours.

"Come." You simply state, nuzzling into his back.

John cranes his head to the side as he watches you from his peripheral view. "Where?"

"Just come with me." You chide jokinging, pulling him by his hand and making him follow you.

Taking him to his office, you lock the door behind you. John cocks an eyebrow at your actions but you simply shrugs as a response.

Sauntering over to him, you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing his cheek tenderly. Remaining skeptical, John scoffs confused at to what you're doing.

You sense his hesitation and kiss his lips softly, "Let me treat my Captain to a job well done."

John sees the twinkle in your eyes, your desire to make him feel good on a day that he's dreaded for so long. However, he shakes his head, massaging your shoulders.

"How about I make my Birdie feel good, hm?" He says.

"Why?" You whisper.

Trailing his hand down the side of your arm, he brings you close as he pulls you flush to him by your wrists.

"Because..." He begins to speak.

"Because you've put up with my stubborness."

Kiss

"You've played nurse for all the times I came home injured or hungover."

Kiss

"You're more than I deserve,"

Kiss

"You're stuck with my idiotic arse."

Kiss

"And most of all, you haven't flown away yet."

Your whines and gasps are engulfed by his onslaught of open-mouth kisses. Tongues swirling around, fighting one another for power.

John pulls away looking into your eyes.

"Open your mouth, Petal." He commands huskily.

You nod, tilting your head up as you open your mouth. John slowly lets his spit dribble into your mouth. It tasted like John, tasted like perfection. Metallic and acidic.

Keeping eye contact, you swallow all of it before open your mouth showing proof of your obediance. John hums in atisfaction.

"Slag." He mutters, pushing you onto the couch before hiking your dress up and ripping your lacy panties off, earning an annoyed huff for the now ruined article of clothing.

John groans, kneeling down in between your legs as he shoves his nose into your soaping pussy, your juices slighting coating his nose. He inhales deeply taking in the sweet smell of your sex.

"What a pretty, wet cunt you've got here, Birdie." He coos, giving your clit a harsh flick as you yelp at the familiar sensation as John chuckles.

"Reactive too."

He flattens his tongue across your slit, gathering your arousal on the tip of his tongue, poking and proding your hole as his thumb plays with your clit.

Your legs rest on top of his shoulders, giving him a better access to your cunt. Soon enough the room is filled with your moans and mewls as your mind becomes a haze from the pleasure your man is giving you.

John groans like a straved man against your folds as he satiates his thirst with your essence. Your thighs clamp around his head as you lock him into place with now mercy of withdrawing from his own ministrations.

Letting out a low chuckle, he looks up at you through his lashes. Cerulean eyes mirroring the same lust that coarsed through your veins.

"You better cum on face, Birdie or else I won't let you cum at all."

[dearest-nell]

a real piece of art

e.m x reader, 2.8k

summary: eddie has some time to kill, and you might just be his new favourite distration. includes: art history student!reader, meet cute, eddie's an absolute dork warnings: mentions of nudity in artwork and allusions to a young eddie who is very excited by the prospect.

a/n: this came to me as i stared blankly into the void of my coffee machine this morning. i'm incapable of proofreading as per usual. i could be convinced to do a part two

Eddie had no business being here. This was an art gallery for crying out loud! He couldn’t remember the last time he’d stepped in one, save that one unfortunate field trip in middle school where he’d been caught ogling a half naked sculpture in front of half the class. Sue him, he’d never seen a naked girl before, and he really had to give credit to the artist because he couldn’t look away. He’d been called a perv for a good year after that, and he’d never thought to visit another gallery again. 

Until now, that was. He was due for a practice and soundcheck in what he thought was only an hour, but somewhere along the line Jeff had got the time wrong, leaving Eddie stuck in Chicago with nothing but his ego to keep him company. Eddie had kicked himself for the mistake – who rehearses at 10 am anyways? There was a silent agreement that Gareth would be handling the bookings next time, where Eddie might be able to actually stay in bed until a reasonable hour. 

He’d thought to burrow down in a cafe for a little while, but the snooty businessmen and shrill giggles of the barista had sent him fleeing. The environment wasn’t conducive to good thinking anyways. He figured a little solace would do him some good, maybe give him some hard earned inspiration to turn into music for the band. So with coffee in hand, he’d taken to the streets, wandering idly as the strings of bodies moved in tandem, dodging and weaving the tracks of Tuesday morning commutes. It might have been enough for him had his jacket not been too thin for the sudden drop in temperature. Worn denim with steamed patches was hardly enough to break the piercing gusts of wind, and even his sweltering coffee in hand could not keep his hands from shaking. Looking around, Eddie felt out of luck. Cafe’s seemed too busy, and he had no real desire to start wandering shops nearby, so what was there left to do? 

$14 later, Eddie puffed a relieved sigh as the warmth of the gallery enveloped him, that trembling cold slowly dissipating from his veins until his hands no longer felt like ice. He figured he’d have taken any sanctuary, though he had been hoping maybe for a Library. At least then he could have bunkered down somewhere with a book. What did you even do at a gallery anyways?  He didn’t see much point in wandering around, scanning his eyes over paintings that seemed a million years old. He didn’t get art. Music was his art, after all. Even as he started to walk, all the pieces seemed to bleed together for him. Acrylics and oils and gouache melted into the blur of faces and places and things. Sure, they looked pretty, but Eddie couldn’t see why anyone would waste their time to sit and paint something like this, let alone stare at it for hours. 

He passed through room after room like this, brows furrowed, arms crossed as he tried to puzzle out the meaning. Music and melody had meaning, lyrics filled with the words people couldn’t seem to say any other way. The sounds of instruments were sounds of heartbeats, of head rushes and blood flow and heart aches and burning desires – paintings couldn’t do that, could they? 

Wandering into a smaller room, Eddie found himself caught as his eyes fixated on perhaps the only worthwhile piece of art he had seen all morning. There you were, perched somewhat uncomfortably on the plush leather seat in the room's centre, head resting delicately into cupped palms, your elbows propping you up into a figure he was sure was only meant for statues. You looked like one of the Greek ones, he thought, all soft and graceful curves, pretty lines and prettier expressions. There was a notebook in your lap, though Eddie couldn’t begin to make out what the blurry pen strokes might have  noted at this distance. 

You seemed so lost in thought as you stared at the piece directly before you, eyebrows knitted in concentration to match the deep set focus of your eyes, and Eddie, despite himself, was lost in you. 

It was a horrifying notion to realise he was back in this same situation again, entirely different and yet all the same. Here he was, stuck motionless, staring helplessly at something beautiful, something entirely foreign to him. Naked breasts had been enough to melt a twelve year old Eddie’s mind, but this Eddie, now grown, was entirely transfixed for another reason. Never in his life had just looking at a person knocked the wind right out of him. This was beyond attraction, he thought. Beyond a pretty face and a beautiful body and all those hormones that made people spin. You were all of that, and so much more. 

How he knew that seemed entirely out of reach, but the thought settled in him all the same. 

Eddie watched the subtle angle of your head, the way you tried to see from a different perspective, before fixating your attention on your notebook once more, scribbling away furiously at stained parchment. 

All better judgement seemed to leave him as he approached, slow and long strides to avoid the echoes of boots against floorboards in such vastness. His body took residence beside the lounge, standing tall at the opposite end, arms crossing as he tried to see what it was that had you so fascinated. 

Cheese. Bread. Nuts of some kind. He tilted his head as you had, browns furrowing in confusion. Still cheese. Still bread. Still nuts of some kind. He let out a defeated huff. 

“Are you okay?” 

He hadn’t expected you to speak, let alone notice him, but when he turned his chin towards you he was met with a curious expression. You were even more captivating up close, as it turned out, so much so that he could not decide what captured his attention more. The soft bags of sleepless nights hung low under your eyes, your cheeks flushed with a dusty sort of colour that only the artifice of candies could achieve, your cheeks indented so delicately with the lines of so many smiles that had come before. 

It was embarrassing in his eyes that he was still gawking, and even more embarrassing that you had to ask your question a second time. 

“Oh– yeah. I mean… yeah. Sorry. Was I being too loud?” 

The soft shake of your head was accompanied by an even gentler smile, and Eddie felt his shoulders ease a fraction away from his ears. 

“No, not at all. Just seemed like a forlorn sigh.” You pointed out, uncrossing your legs to lower your feet to the ground. 

Eddie’s brow raised, his tone lilting with amusement. “Forlorn, huh?” 

You shrugged, though Eddie could see the slow creep of embarrassment flush your cheeks, your hand lifting to rub at it absentmindedly. “Yeah, I guess. It was just the first word that came to mind.” 

Eddie was smiling before he knew what he was doing. “I like it. Forlorn. Like it’s from a poem, or something.” 

A soft hum of contemplation fell from your lips, your pen scratching nervously in the margins of your notebook, patterns of stars falling into the sea of words below. “Could be. Poets are meant to be all crestfallen and stuff.” 

He actually laughed at that, something sounding like a punched out breath leaving him, his eyes crinkling delightfully at the corners. 

“Are you a writer or somethin’? You don’t just hear people saying words like that every day. Gotta know them by trade.” 

You shrugged again, tucking a loose strand of hair behind the curve of your ear. “Student, actually. Art history, so I guess fancy words are part of the curriculum.” 

It seemed strange to be meeting you like this, like someone high above had heard his complaints only to send him an angel to set him straight. An art student; maybe you could teach him a thing or two. 

Eddie gestured to the seat beside you, flat palm dampened nervously at the prospect of speaking to someone so pretty, so much more learned than him. You nodded shyly, not bothering to adjust as he took up the empty space beside you, his elbows propping on his knees for comfort. 

“Can I ask you something, then? Since all of this is your thing.” 

You closed your notebook, folding your legs beneath you once more as you fixated your attention on him – something Eddie was sure no man could ever tire of wanting from you. “Sure”. 

“Why are you staring at this one? Out of all the pictures in this place, what makes cheese so interesting.” 

The astonished little chuckle that left you was something sacred, golden and warm and louder than he had anticipated. You could put that laugh to song. Maybe he would. 

“It’s not the cheese,’ You clarify, your smile never shifting from your lips, “though it looks great, doesn’t it? Looks real.” 

Eddie took in the piece once more, letting his eyes trace over the food to take in the finer details. It was true; it looked real. He could see the shadows, the cracks in the bread, the crumbs that had fallen onto the platter below. He realised it mustn’t have been easy to make something so real. It felt like a snapshot. 

Oh fuck, do I get art now? 

“Yeah, it looks real. Kinda crazy real, actually. How do they get it looking like that?” 

“It’s different for different people. This one’s by Peeters, and no one’s sure where she learned to paint, but she was one of the only female professionally working artists of the 17th century. She was a big deal.” 

Eddie tilted his head towards you. “Is that why you like her, then?” 

You shook your head, scrunching up your nose. “It’s very impressive, but it’s not the only reason. I was looking for her signature.” 

Eddie did not need to clarify himself, the confusion that etched across his face spoke volumes, leaving you to laugh again in amusement. 

“A lot of artists leave signatures so you know a work is theirs. Sometimes it’s their name, or an item, or a seal – sometimes it’s on the back, sometimes it’s made to look part of the picture. She writes her name down at the bottom, see?” 

You leaned in a little closer to Eddie, lining up his gaze with your own so you could point out a flourish of cursive in the corner. Drawn into you, Eddie could not help but lean into your orbit, his eyes following the line of your finger to its destination. “Oh yeah. Musician’s do that too, y’know. Chuck in a riff or a line or something to leave their mark.” 

“Seems like it’s an artist's thing. I think it’s pretty cool.” 

Eddie liked the insinuation that musicians were artists. He’d met too many people in his life who’d thought otherwise, who did not understand the value of art. He supposed he was one of them, though. He’d been ratting on the art around him only five minutes earlier. 

“You like music, then?” He asked, eagerness in his voice betraying the cool persona he was hoping to achieve. 

“I love music.” You confirmed, hands busily occupying themselves by twiddling the pen in your lap once more. “I wish they played music here. Imagine looking at all the art and listening to songs that fit. There’s these big dramatic paintings a few rooms over that are just begging for a rock instrumental to accompany it, and the cheese…” you trailed off, seemingly embarrassed to have been so caught up in the idea. “I feel like I'd be lost in it forever.” 

Eddie closed his eyes for the briefest moment, letting the vision of your little dream settle in his mind. He could get around that, art and music together – two worlds colliding. It seemed all the more enticing to think you would be there too, humming away as you watched the paintings and he watched you. 

“I think it sounds brilliant. You tell me when you’re building this fancy gallery and I’ll be the first one there.” 

He might have died at the sincerity with which you smiled. No heart was meant to withstand such adoration brimming inside of it. 

“You know, I–” you paused, garnering some courage to find the words, “the signature I was talking about before? That wasn’t the one that had me looking at this. The cheese, I mean.” You gestured vaguely towards the canvas before you, though Eddie was unwilling to peel his eyes from the work of art before him. 

“Yeah? What had you looking, then?” He couldn’t believe that for the first time in his life, Eddie actually cared about what was splayed across a canvas. Whatever it was that intrigued you so, he was aching to know. 

“She painted herself in the reflection of the lid on the jug. Up the top… see?” Adjusting the items in your lap, you slowly rose to your feet, extending a hand out to drag the boy up with you. Eddie faltered only for a second, contemplating whether this one single touch would make or break him. Would the sweat of his palms disgust you? He was so nervous to talk to you, after all, to take this chance. He swallowed, slipping calloused fingers into your own until he felt unperturbed digits grasp his own, your expression unphased as you guided him towards the wall. 

You both paused a foot short, your free hand pointing upwards to guide his flittering eyes. Lo and behold, painted so delicately into the reflection of the jug, was a face staring back at him. His hand squeezed your own with untapped excitement, and Eddie’s mouth dropped. 

“Holy shit, that’s so cool. That’s really her?” 

You nodded, squeezing his hand back. “Yeah, that’s Clara.”

It was silent for a beat, the two of you soaking in the image before you; the woman in and amongst all the pieces of a life lived so long ago. It was a moment in history, much like the one the two of you were caught in now. 

Eddie marvelled helplessly, unsure what seemed to amaze him more; all these details that he never would have noticed if it weren’t for you, or the fact that you, a complete stranger, were still holding on to his hand as if it were something normal. For the briefest moment, he wondered if this could be normal, you and him. 

“I think this is the ultimate signature in a painting, just writing yourself into the story like that. It’s such a small thing, but… it changes everything, doesn’t it?” You broke the silence, voice a little dream like as you spoke. Eddie could only nod dumbly, a contented smile spreading across his face. 

“You wouldn’t wanna show me more of these, would you?” 

Eddie couldn’t stand the idea that you might walk away after this, back to your own life that until now had been so far away from his own. He wanted to walk the whole gallery with you, your hand in his, your voice whispering sweet nothings about the history and details of the world around you. 

The sheer excitement that crossed your features was an expression unmatched, never before seen. It was like he had asked you the one question you had been waiting for your whole life. Maybe you had been. Maybe no one had ever taken interest in the thing you seemed to love so much. He knew what that was like after all, his music had not been everyone's cup of tea. 

Maybe it could be yours.

“Oh, I– really?” 

“Only if you want to. I spent my whole time here trying to work out what made this stuff so special; I think you might be the one to show me. I’ll buy you coffee as thanks, if you like. I mean… I’d like to take you out for coffee.” 

He felt like a bumbling idiot, pausing to breathe an embarrassed chuckle. “You can also tell me to get lost at any time.” 

Eddie wasn’t sure if you noticed the way your hand seemed to tighten in his own, the movement causing his heart to beat in unsteady rhythms. It was something so small that seemed to shift his entire world – your hand holding his. 

Your head tilted with a smile. “You never said your name, y’know.” 

“Eddie.” He breathed out a little too fast. He’d have to kick himself later for it, because right now, he was too fixated on the way his foolishness seemed to make you smile all the wider. 

“Eddie.” You echoed, turning your body to face his own. “I’d love a coffee.” 

It took everything in him not to fist bump in triumph, his body aching to wriggle with the excitement that was slowly taking over muscle by muscle. How the hell had his morning turned out this good? 

“Sounds like a date, then.”

(images not mine)

“Still Life with Cheeses, Almonds and Pretzels” by Clara Peeters (ca. 1615)

[atozfic]

splish splash.

pairing. san x seonghwa x wooyoung x yunho x fem!reader synopsis. they’re out to prove who’s the best at the breast-stroke- gets dragged off stage as the people boo over such a terrible pun. warnings. no use of y/n, swim team au, lifeguard!reader, pro-swimmers!sanhwawooho, they’re all wearing speedos :), smut ( porn with unnecesary plot, degradation, m+f oral sex, piv sex, anal sex, double penetration, triple penetration bc u got 3 holes for a reason sweetcheeks, mxm interactions, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, hair pulling, way more warnings that there’s honestly no point listing, just know this is pure filth that covers most bases of stereotypical fanfiction smut, mother in christ what have i written? ) no verbal consent is given throughout this but all parties are willing participants !! word count. 20k+ ( of literal porn. i need to leave this physical terrain bc i am not worthy of existing after writing this i fear. ) hyde’s input. hey girlie pops, long time no see.

it’s crazy, what some people will do for money.

take, for example, your roommate. she’s a smart girl. a beautiful one, too. with a promising future in criminal law, once she gets herself that pesky little degree. and, yet, she’s funding her tuition with money she earns distributing high-end drugs on campus. rather counter-productive, most would agree. or, in a far less extreme version, there’s that overly-hyper frat boy, who can always be found doing the dumbest dares at a party, all for a few bucks and a keg of beer.

and then there is you.

you would have arrived home twenty minutes ago at this point, had things gone to plan, a backlog of neglected assignments and a baby bonsai tree in need of watering desperately awaiting your return. yet here you are, stuck in your ugly flip-flops and uncomfortably stale shorts, whistle around your neck and a look of exhaustion on your face.

the swimming pool had closed, technically, an hour and a half ago. the sports centre seems to believe, however, that certain members of the college swim team reserve the right to use the pool for however long they require and desire, even if it is at your expense. if you were being paid overtime, perhaps you’d have a more positive outlook on things and less of a frown creasing on your forehead.

if the swimmers weren’t so irritating, maybe you’d enjoy the view.

“all that height, and for what?” the sophomore boy’s voice- jung wooyoung? you aren’t overly familiar with him, seeing him only in sporadic flashes when you pass each other on campus or at some uncivilised frat party- echos through the large room, his hair a wet mess. if you were gaining anything from being here, you’d perhaps muster up the energy to remind the boy of how a swim cap is necessary at all times in the water. “can’t even out-swim me with those long legs!”

“wanna know what my long legs are for?” jeong yunho, a junior with the face of an angel and the body proportions of a sinner, pipes up from across the olympic length pool. unlike the other boy, a crimson cap keeps his own locks out of sight. “climbing up the stairs to go fuck your mom!”

it’s impossible to stifle your laughter, no matter how hard you try to just play it off as a tickle at the back of your throat, a cough forcing its way out. when your eyes meet those of the glaring senior, however, you’re wishing you hadn’t made a sound.

“even the lifeguard can’t take you seriously, yunho,” park seonghwa speaks, eyes not leaving yours as his muscled arms work to pull himself out of the water, before letting his well-rounded behind sit down on the edge. a breath hitches in your throat as his gloriously muscled thighs come into view, drops of water cascading down them in a pattern set to hypnotise you, keep you staring a little longer than is good for your health. “bet she’s heard all about you and the boner incident of 2019.”

truthfully, you have no clue what the dark haired male is on about. that doesn’t stop you from laughing again though, this time a little out of malice and a lot because it’s quite endearing to see a loudmouth like jeong yunho be silenced so easily, head bowed and ears a little rosier with embarrassment.

this small moment of peace is soon shattered by the reality that these boys can’t spend more than ten minutes in a room- particularly one that includes a pool- without arguing. while one boasts about his speed, the other begins to jab at his lack of endurance, and the remaining of the three reminds them all of the fact he holds the most medals amongst them.

“are they always like this?” you jump, surprised by the cold drop of water that lands on your exposed thigh, all courtesy of the boy who’s invited himself to sit down next to you on the bench.

“not always,” you bite at the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to not look at san in all his wet glory. you’re afraid that, once you start looking at him, you won’t be able to stop. it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve fallen victim to the crime that is his enchanting smile. “guess they’re feeling a little feistier than usual, with the district championship just around the corner. rumour has it one of you guys is risking his scholarship if he’s not in the top three.”

are you and san close?

that’s a good question. see, by social standards, you’re not strangers. you share several classes, you attend the same parties, you’ve even texted a few times- mostly on the days one of you miss class (read as: san misses class thanks to his swim-meets) and you need a copy of any notes taken that lesson.

but, you aren’t exactly friends either. you don’t go out of your ways to spend time together, you don’t know more than the surface level about one another, you don’t check-in with each other.

so, is acquaintances the best word to describe you two?

that depends on how common it is for an acquaintance to suck another acquaintance’s cock. granted, there had been a lot of alcohol in the mix, on both ends, with you drinking to forget a botched assignment and san drinking to forget how badly his voice had apparently cracked in front of his crush.

a few weeks have passed since the incident and things haven’t exactly been the same. you’ve missed class twice and ended up contacting heather- a sweet girl who sits down by the front and seems to live with her hand raised in the air- for any notes. likewise, san has found himself declining party invitations, the knowledge that you would be there all too prevalent in the front of his mind.

the irony is that neither of you quite know the reason why you’re avoiding each other, you just are.

or, were, until san had walked in with his swim team buddies- if they could even be considered that- and spotted you in your lifeguard attire. he hadn’t been as slick as he thought he was, sneaking glances at you between laps and even gaining an undeniable smile each time he watched you blow that stupid whistle at some misbehaving kids.

he was slicker with the fact he didn’t need to be here, at this hour. but, he figured staying gave him the chance to stare at you a little longer and, maybe, think up an excuse to talk to you.

“i should-”

“i missed-”

you both speak at the same time, minutes after watching the three musketeers disappear into the locker rooms, with the smallest of them continuing to dig at them for not being able to out-swim him despite their ample amount of height. san’s quick to signal you to go first, a dimple making itself known on his face and reminding you of the deadliest part of him: the false innocence that drips off him like warm candy.

sweet, sticky, making a mess all over the place.

“i should probably start cleaning up.” it turns out san also isn’t discreet when it comes to hiding the disappointment in his face, because no sooner than those words leave your mouth, the dimple is gone and he’s sat a little straighter, a little more ridged, like when the professor points him out in the middle of the class and the golden boy can’t stomach all the attention being on him. “but, what were you gonna say?”

“oh,” and it’s like he’s just remembered that yes, there is something he wants to say. “i missed you in class yesterday.”

it catches you off guard, leaving you to almost drop the whistle you’ve been fiddling between your fingers for the past few minutes. something about sitting so close to him while both of you are dressed so scantily has you feeling unnerved, like you need to run away as fast as possible, yet also wanting to plant yourself right in his lap.

“i didn’t think,” you’re cut off by your own throat, dry and desperate for a drink under his intense gaze. san is a walking contradiction, you think, with his sharp cheekbones and soft heart, his intense eyes and his easy-going smile. his presence gives you never-ending whiplash, never sure if he’s more angel than devil. “i didn’t think you noticed.”

“how could i not? there was no one to laugh with me at professor nam and his weird toe-shoes!” his laugh is infectious, willing your own to make an appearance. 

the sound of distant muffled yelling fills the air of the swimming pool and it isn’t hard to recognise wooyoung’s high-pitched laughter amongst it. clearly, their childish arguing has carried on into the changing rooms. it surprises you in no way, already more than used to their antics.

their rivalry is one for the ages, all of them constantly bumping heads for the spot of the top swimmer on campus, their sports scholarships becoming their pride and joy.

you suppose it doesn’t help that all four boys run in different circles, only really crossing paths when faced with swim-meets and days of practice. the senior, park seonghwa, runs with the richer kids of the college, all sharing their trust-funds and god complexes as a common interest. you’re not overly familiar with them, though you’re certain he and a particular blue-haired boy are rarely seen apart. jeong yunho, the tallest, is in with the jocks, which is mostly just because his taller friend is the captain of the basketball team. and jung wooyoung tends to surround himself with the stoners from the school, something you’d learned from kang yeosang, a dealer you shared a couple classes with back in your first semester.

san, ever the golden boy, drifts between a couple different groups but he can usually be found alone and enjoying his own company, if not being followed by a flock of his own little fan-club, men and women alike begging for just an ounce of his time.

your name echos around the room. your head snaps to the side and you find that san is now closer, staring at you in a way that’s making your insides knot up. you’ve seen that look only once before, and it done nothing but leave your knees and your ego bruised. “were you listening to me?”

“what? uh, yeah, i was,” you’re quick to lie, knowing it’s about to backfire when he breaks out in a challenging grin.

“really? what did i say?” he only allows you to stumble over words for a minute before cutting off your incomprehensible speaking when he grabs at your chin and tilts your head up, staring straight into your eyes. “that’s what i thought. you were too busy getting lost in that pretty little head of yours to pay attention to me.”

you stutter over a noise and settle for that as your response, though entirely incomprehensible and nonsensical. the way he continues to stare at you feels cruel, demons dancing around in those pretty eyes of his. demons that are telling him to tease, torture, torment the fragile eyes staring back at him, the same ones he’d delighted in watching fill up with tears a few weeks back, the pressure of his crown slamming against the back of your tight throat entirely overwhelming you to the point of crying, tears dripping down your cheeks and mixing with your own drool pooling over the swell of his balls.

“need me to repeat myself?” you’re slow to catch up to the fact he’s speaking again, and even slower to notice the hand resting on your knee. at first, you think you’re imagining things, the feather light tracing of nails over your soft skin a mere figment of your imagination. but, no, your eyes flash down to glimpse and his hand is there, fingers dancing over your naked skin like it’s their own personal stage and he’s intending to put on the show of a lifetime. he speaks your name. “questions are meant to be answered.”

“i-” san picks the perfect time to apply pressure on you, hand gripping the flesh on the lower end of your thigh. goosebumps spring to life at the feeling of his cold ring on your damp skin. it takes a shaky breath to try compose yourself but you do eventually manage to get a reply out. “sorry... please say it again.”

“huh,” he pauses to contemplate, slowly leaning his face closer to your own, giving you all the time to pull back if you want to. you stay still and his minty breath infects your senses while the hand on your leg replaces your thigh with your face, the grip he has on it forcing blunt nails to nip at your skin. normally, you’d worry about the marks it’s going to leave behind. right now, you want him to grip tighter, dig deeper into your flesh till he’s drawing blood and licking it off your cheeks. “how the fuck do you still sound so cute begging?”

“is that,” his other hand curls around the back of you, finding a resting place on your hip. the window of opportunity you once had to pull back or run away is slammed shut the moment he tugs you a little closer, the side of your body crashing into his naked chest. “what you said earlier?”

“oh, no.” san almost sounds like he’s cooing, a mocking tone in his voice that has your thighs clenching in a way you’re sure he notices. his eye flickering down to glance at them confirms your suspicions, the smirk taking over his features the metaphorical cherry on top. “i was just talking about how i’ve still not returned the favour.”

mind blanking out on you, you stare back at him in what you can only imagine to be a dumb-founded look, mouth slightly agape and teasing your answer.

what follows, however, is a resounding silence on your end.

“c’mon, princess, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what happened the last time i got you alone.”

forget? it’s all you’ve been able to think of every time you’ve seen him since, whether he was a figure in the corner of your eye during class or making his way down the campus car-park in search of his beaten up mustang.

each time, like an old record player, your mind plays on loop the way he looked staring down at you, long legs spread enough to fit you between them, closing in on you to trap you in place each time you swallowed him a little deeper; replaying the symphony of whiny moans and airy breaths you’d pulled from him, lips swollen and red from trying too hard to hold back his cries of pleasure; reviving the memory of his vice grip on your hair, tugging at the roots to tilt you back into the perfect angle for his hips to piston into your warm mouth, meeting his own crescendo in one final pathetic whimper of your name.

a whimper that’s pushed you over the edge several times since, fingers soaked in your own sins and mouth biting down on your pillow to keep your poor sleeping roommate oblivious to your actions.

“no,” an answer escapes you alongside a shaky breath, something about the way he’s slowly trailing his fingers down your neck and the intensity he’s staring at you with hypnotising you into forgetting all about the boisterous boys and their changing-rooms chanting. “haven’t forgot.”

it’s his turn to stay quiet and you begin to wonder if he’s recalling it too, if he’s reminding himself of how easily your bodies melted together, like candle-wax meeting a flame. the question of if he’s thought about the exact scene, hands stuffed down his pants while a dull ache builds in his wrist, burns the tip of your tongue.

but his eyes burn you more.

they’re usually wide, bright, full of that bubbly nature san is known all over for. but, if what people say is true and the eyes are the mirror to one’s soul, then san’s soul must be a dark pit made up of lustful glares and hooded eyelids, resting so low his eyes almost appear shut.

“then, don’t you agree that it’s my turn to have a taste?”

it’s the question to end all questions, no time to even think of forming an answer when his fingertips are dancing over your skin so rhythmically, like a practiced choreography when they curl and wrap themselves around your neck. they rest there for a heartbeat, and then another, before you feel it begin.

the pressure is dull, at first, and you think you’re imagining it. but it grows, like a seed under the sun, blossoms into thorns squeezing around your airways, a deformed rose made from the red marks his fingers will be sure to leave behind.

you try to breath in, only for it to get caught somewhere between your lips and his tightening hold.

“you’re too fucking pretty, you know?” the hand on your hip has found a new home on your cheek, palm warm and thumb rough as he swipes it over your bottom lip. “all i can ever think about around you, even when you were drooling all over my balls.”

you want to answer, you really do. but between the hand around your throat and the heat shooting straight for your core, burning up in a puddle of arousal, you can’t. all you can do is watch the man before you, raven hair a beautiful mess just begging for some fingers to be ran through it and stare promising to ruin you in the best way possible.

the silence pleases him.

“y’know, it’s so hard to get you alone. always got someone wanting to talk to you, stealing your attention. do you even know how many stupid parties i had to attend to finally get the chance to talk to you?” san pauses, like he’s waiting for you to relay an answer, guess a number. he loosens up the grip on your neck, teasing your skin with a few soothing strokes of his slender fingers, lulling you into a state bordering insanity. “no answer, angel? or are you lost in that pretty little head again?”

“i’m,” your voice is but a whisper, raspy with your new found thirst. “trying to figure out what you want from me.”

if it’s the wrong or right thing to say, you’re soon to find out, the sharp faced boy releasing a dangerously low chuckle as he takes a hold of your chin. like a pretty doll, you move any time and any way his fingers command you to, finding yourself staring right up into his eyes, a swirl of melting caramel that reminds you of how sweet yet sultry every inch of him is. lips near touching, he refuses to break eye contact as he speaks up once more, sealing both your fates when his breath hits your face.

“then let me show you what i want.”

his mouth comes down on yours like it’s the answers to all your prayers and, yet, all your nightmares.

it excites you how easily he works his lips over your own, captivating every inch of you when he tilts his head to the right and deepens the kiss. the rhythm to his kiss is a mismatch of beats, where one moment your lips are moving in a sensual waltz, grazing tongues and dipping heads to get rid of that inch of a space remaining between your bodies, and the next moment your tongues are tangled in a tango, the kind where his teeth send blood rushing to your lips with every bite he drags over them and his hand drags shivers down your spine as it makes its way down your body.

yet it terrifies you how willingly you succumb to san’s touch, intoxicated by whatever witchcraft he currently holds over you. there’s a deadliness to the way his lips part from your own only to begin a seamless descent down your jaw and the expanse of your neck, a poisonous element to the way his hand once again finds itself clutching the meat of your thigh.

the moment his fingertips meet the bottom of your shorts, you’re wishing you’d never slipped them on in the first place, every fibre of your being growing angsty under the weight of his suddenly halted hand. it stays still for an immeasurable amount of time, grazing over the bottom of your shorts occasionally while he continues to mouth at your neck.

like mosses and the great sea, san parts your legs with little to no effort, creating a pathway for his fingers to travel further up your thigh. blunt fingernails drag up your skin, a trail of goosebumps being left behind, a visible marking of where he’s touching you.

his movements halt too soon for your liking, too much distance between his lithe fingers and your body’s very core.

“have you figured out what i want yet, pretty?” his voice is a stark difference to the usual light-hearted, almost squeak-like tone you’ve grown used to hearing from the smiley boy. right now, there’s no trace of humour in the thick rasp and there’s no time for smiling while he’s glaring down at you through hooded eyes.

something compels you to nod your head, even though you’re a little too lost in the thoughts concerning what you want, rather than what the devil incarnate by your side wants.

“you have?” the words come out in a layer of amazement, and you have to wonder if it’s because of the lie you’ve just told or the way your legs have closed in around his hand, trapping it between them. “i want to know what you want, though.”

you want his thumb to stop stroking over the flesh of your inner thigh.

you want his eyes to stop gazing down at you like you’re the perfect prey.

you want him to stop teetering your impending pleasure on a string.

you want-

“you.” is all you manage to breath out.

it seems to do the trick, however, your point getting very much across to him. a softness flickers over his features, brows unfurling and smirk curling up into a full smile for what feels like an eternity, but is actually no more than a couple of seconds before his devilish aura is back.

lips meet lips again, the desperation and force behind each stroke of his tongue against yours the same as before. san, much to your delight, seems to grow just as impatient as you’ve been since the moment he welcomed himself into the empty space next to you on the bench.

one hand still resting between your thighs, his other seizes the opportunity to drag your body closer, so close that you have no choice but to swing one leg over him and slot yourself in his lap.

there was one time, in the middle of what you’ve deemed to be the most boring lecture ever, that you had thought about what it would feel like to sit in choi san’s lap. unintentionally, of course, for how could anyone look over at him in those grey sweatpants, legs manspreading like it was nobody’s business and pen tapping away at the table in front of him, and not daydream about being perched in his lap, head resting somewhere between his shoulder and his soft hair?

you’d imagined him to be the embodiment of soft and comfortable, warm and reassuring the way he’d lazily lay an arm over your hip to make sure there’s no risk of you slipping out of your new seat. you never, for the life of you, imagined you’d feel the outline of his dick resting against your ass the first time you finally claimed your throne.

choosing to not dwell on the heavy feeling of him pressed against you, you choose instead to focus on the way his lips trail away from yours and make their descent towards the top of your chest.

his hand abandons post between your thighs and rises to the surface, where long fingers begin to pull at the straps of your red swimsuit, successfully manoeuvring the nylon material till it’s bunched around your midriff and your breasts are exposed to the damp air of the swimming hall. 

with no want left to play around, he dives right in to dragging his lips down the upper swell of your left breast. you imagine he can feel the beating of your racing heart beneath the goosebump littered skin. it doesn’t take long for his tongue to enter the scene, skilfully flicking over your hardened nipple a couple times before enveloping his mouth around the bud.

one, two, three sucks and he’s moving on to your right breast. there’s no lead up, this time, simply his mouth finding delight in toying with your body while he busies his hand with your left side, thumb and pointer finger rolling and tugging and spreading the remnants of his saliva over your heated skin.

the straw that breaks the camel’s back, and has you arching your own, is the faintest pressure of his teeth biting down on you. it dances on a thin line between pleasurable and painful, exhilarating enough to make you throw your head back as a moan slips past your lips. it echoes in the empty room, replaying your own sound for both of you to hear again and again before the chain is broken by a giggle.

his giggle.

“why are,” he picks the right time to trail his fingers down your body, dragging your swimsuit with them till it sits uncomfortably tight around the top of your hipbones, skintight fabric digging into the damp skin. “you laughing?”

“has anyone ever told you how pretty your tits are?” it’s crude and heartwarming all at once, quite like the man who says it and the little smile he shoots up in your direction as he rolls his tongue over your nipple once again.

“no, i can’t say they have.” the hands that have been resting on his shoulder, grasping them in a vice grip in fear of slipping off of him and and directly onto the concrete floor, gain enough confidence for you let one slide around to the back of his neck and thread your fingertips in the back of his locks, hair as soft as you’ve always imagined it to be. “you’re the first.”

“i’ll wear that title with honour,” he seems to delight in the way you’re carding through his hair, eyes closing while he tilts his head back further into your touch. a delighted sigh follows. “has anyone ever asked you to sit on their face?”

“again, no.”

“another honourable title for me, i guess.” san’s giving you whiplash, with all this switching between being his usual goofy self and the man that minutes before was speaking profanities on how you’d looked choking on his dick. he peaks his eyes open again, slowly, adjusting to the bright lights he stares up at each time he’s doing the backstroke. when he has the nerves to smile at you, all dreamy eyed and relaxed sitting beneath your body on the bench. “now, can you please stand up and get naked so you can fuck yourself on my tongue?”

this time, it’s your laugh that echoes in the air.

“stop, i’m being serious!” he seems to whine his way through his words, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly in a way you’re certain is going to drive you insane. “i can’t go another second like this, you literally sitting on my dick, without blowing my load. and i really don’t feel like having to explain to coach kwon why my team speedos are stained in cum.”

“you’re so-” you give up on trying to find a single word to describe him, knowing there’s no word that can quite capture choi san’s essence. “okay, okay, fine, but you kind of need to let go of me for me to, y’know, stand up.”

“oh, sorry bout that.” san’s sheepish smile shouldn’t be this cute, not when it’s followed by him removing his hands from your half-naked body.

reluctant, your feet meet the ground and you stand up from his lap. he seems to move quicker than you, no hesitation to be seen as he twists his body around and lays along the bench on his back, eyes all the while watching you expectantly.

your fingers are far from as nimble as his, and there’s a shake to them, meaning you’re a lot less slick with how you pull the swimsuit off yourself. you opt for killing two birds with one stone, dragging your shorts down alongside the red suit, till both are pooled around your feet and you’re begging with every cell in your body that you look more graceful than you feel, stepping out of the leg holes.

in all honesty, you’re more embarrassed with the fact he’d watched you remove your clothes than with how you’re now stood naked, legs a little shaky and the wetness gathering between your folds you’re suddenly so much more aware of, the cool air fighting against your pulsating heat.

“well?” san speaks with expectation, legs bent at the knee while the balls of his feet rest on the edge of the bench. “are you gonna just stand there or you gonna sit on my face?”

“are you... sure you want me to?” even you feel the idiocy behind asking such a thing, when he’s laying right there with eyes full of glee and a raging boner pressed against his hip, nothing but the familiar colours of your college to stop you from seeing him all his naked glory. still, you can’t help elaborating. “i mean, the bench isn’t exactly sturdy and, i mean, what if i slip off of you?”

“y/n, are you joking? you have to be joking!” his offence is playful enough to ease a little of the hesitation inside of you. “do you see these puppies, baby? these are my mad gains from flailing my silly little arms around in a pool six days a week!”

you think this can’t be real as you watch the golden boy of the school put on a show, flexing his arms in an effort to display his muscles and voicing the most ridiculous words that not even he seems to be taking seriously, a bubble of laughter popping in every sentence.

“i’m not gonna let you slip, now hurry up!” again with the whining.

“god, you’re so desperate!”

“for you? always.”

the following minute is made up of wobbled steps and a poor attempt at amping yourself up, repeating mantra after mantra in your head that you are the sex goddess and no man is going to make you feel nervous. not even if that man has a jaw one could slice diamonds with.

he’s got a firm grasp of your thighs before you’ve even got the chance to get comfortable, legs a little shaky as you hover over his naked chest and will your knees to find grip on the bench beneath them.

“come closer, my tongue’s not that long!” san’s pulling you up, closer, all the way to where his wanton mouth awaits you. as if to give you a preview of what awaits you, the kisses from before reduced to nothing, his tongue pops out to run over the smooth of his bottom lip. you repeat the process of trying to find balance, a position in which you don’t need to worry about toppling overboard. though, with the way his finger squeeze into your thigh, you doubt you’ll have to worry about that truly happening. “comfortable?”

“as i’ll ever be.”

“all the people that would die to be in your position, and you say that?” he tsks, tongue hitting off the roof of his mouth before a blow of air hits against your folds and, though it’s faint from the distance still between his mouth and where he wants it to be, it sends a jolt of excitement up your spine. “i’ll just have to make sure i over-perform, make you more eager for next time.”

neither of you choose to dwell on the words next time.

him, too occupied with getting his first taste, tongue licking a strip up your core and coming to a stop as the tip of it bumps against your clit.

you, too busy having the air knocked out of your lungs, hand unconsciously finding safety in gripping his hair as you lurch forward momentarily, mouth falling open in a quiet gasp that echoes around and around.

“hmm, make sure you hold on tight.” you know he’s teasing you, with his words, and with his eyes, and with his mouth that seems to find enjoyment in trailing itself over your clitoral hood and up your pubic bone. “you smell mouthwatering, you know? enough to make a man go feral.”

the chance to reply never comes, not when san makes his way back down to your clit and greets it with the stroke of his flattened tongue. every tiny nerve sparks to life under his touch and you feel yourself grow wetter, a wave of warm arousal leaking out of your hole. his tongue dives down to welcome it, not allowing more than a single drop- landing on his chin- to go to waste.

you don’t even notice the lack of his grip around your left leg until you feel it: the first few seconds of his fingertips probing around your soaked cunt, coating themselves in your liquid pleasure until it’s dripping down the back of his hand.

the first finger to enter your hole is gentle, tentative to the way your body receives him, his pointer and ring finger keeping your folds spread and allowing him the full view of the middle one slowly disappearing from sight, burying itself in the warmth of your pussy. distracted, his mouth pulls back and his head meets the bench again while his eyes soak in the sight above him, flickering up to catch your reaction when another finger enters you, this time with a lot less care as it forces you open around it.

“so pretty,” he mutters the words, more to himself than to you, delighting as he witnesses you struggling to bite back a pathetic moan when his digits curl within you. he repeats the action a couple times, flicking his wrist back and forth, fingers brushing over your tight walls each time and culminating in a curl that has him pressing against the spongy-like flesh inside. “so, so pretty.”

your hips begin to rut against his hand, meeting every one of his thrusts with perfect timing that has him reaching deeper, further, better places inside of you. all the while he’s just watching and admiring the furrow in your brow and the way the swells of your breast bounce in sync with you.

your pussy clenches tighter and his fingers fight to reach deeper before spreading themselves wider in an attempt to scissor you open. he’s giving it his all, a third finger slipping in despite the dull ache setting in his wrist while he coaxes you closer and closer to the tipping point.

san takes just as easy as he gives, and it’s that fact alone that drives him to pull his hand back, fingers withdrawing from you and the pleasure you’re pursuing.

“why’d you-” you heave through heavy breaths, brain fuzzy from the unvoiced orgasm you were so close to having, every nerve ready to tingle, every muscle ready to tremble, every toe ready to curl. “stop?”

“because,” the wet smack of his fingers hitting against your clit is louder than the whimper that drops from your mouth. san hears both, however, and grins, quickly landing another smack against your engorged clit. “the goal is to make you cum on my face, not my fingers. consider them the appetiser, something to awaken your senses.”

his tongue licks in an upward motion, starting from the tip of your taint and ending at your clit, and you get deja-vu to just minutes before, when you’d first felt his tongue on your melting skin, the saliva it leaves in a trail behind it serving to cool you down. a shiver runs up your spine as he blows air onto your cunt, the pressure of it doing wonders to stimulate your clit.

“would you stop?”

“look who’s whining now.” san, despite what he says, does as you ask and puts an end what feels like unending teasing- really, it’s hardly been a minute but the pulsing of your heat and the loss of a climax leave you no room to think about something as abstract as time.

his lips make a victorious return, wrapping themselves around your clit and sucking against the pulsing nub. every so often, he delivers a couple kitten licks- ups and downs, sides to sides, figure eights- before swiftly returning to kissing your most intimate parts.

in an attempt to make your toes curl, he dips lower and teases the tips of his tongue over your entrance, wet muscle moving over wet skin and tastebuds covering themselves in your essence, till the moans echoing off the walls are indistinguishable between san’s and your own.

“you can move,” he grunts into you after a few minutes of repeated alternating between kissing your clit and tonguing at your hole. it’s muffled with the way he’s holding you down against his face and you feel his lips brush against your lower ones as he speaks. “need you to move. wanna see you use me, pretty.”

and, who are you to deny the man?

you’re hesitant at first, just like you were all those weeks ago as you sank to your knees for him. you test the waters and give a single roll of your hips. it feels good, great, especially when paired with his own efforts at dragging his tongue over you.

it takes a few more attempts, and san’s patience wearing thin to the point he resorts to grabbing a firm hold of your arse cheeks and planting you flat on his mouth, tongue flat and eyes staring up at you in a demand to move, goddamn it. 

move you most certainly do, grinding down on his tongue like you’ve done many a time with different men’s cocks. it’s messy, sloppy in the way that his spit mingles with your wetness, a cocktail of fluids sliding down his throat, and painting his lips, and dribbling down his chin as he eats you like a man starved that’s alas getting a taste of the sweetest fruit.

the rhythm of your hips is thrown off when the man beneath you switches from having you grinding down onto his flattened tongue to slipping the muscle inside of your hole, thrusting it as far as up as the length of it allows him to. with every time your body comes crashing down on his mouth, the tip of his nose bumps against your clit, forcing you to angle yourself upwards to gain more of the friction.

hands find hair, lips part in unabashed moans, thighs shake with the oncoming of an orgasmic state of mind.

the moment builds too quickly, too unexpectedly, like the ghost of your stolen climax is back with a vengeance and set on ensuring there will be no denying it this time.

“s-shit,” your eyes squeeze shut, too scared to look down at his ecstasy filled eyes in fear of it being what finally tips you over the edge. “i’m gonna- ah- gonna cum.”

san pays no mind to your warning. if anything, he takes it as a challenge, an invisible timer beginning in his head and forcing him to see how quickly he can get you to unravel all over his face. he’s getting everything he asked for, your naked body a mess above him as you fuck yourself on his tongue and your hands, with minds of their own, sliding up to grab and squeeze at your tits.

he watches how the pastel blue nail polish clashes with the darkened colour of your abused nipples, fingers working to pinch, and twist, and pull at them as you lose yourself in the moment.

when you cum, it’s with rolled-back eyes and shaky thighs, his hands gripping at you tighter to steady you as you sway above him, his tongue working at coaxing you through your high.

he licks up every drop of cum he can manage, until you’re cringing in overstimulation and reaching down to push him away. he let’s you move him, mouth moving to trail a couple kisses over your inner thigh, something akin to lipstick stains- yet so much dirtier in nature- being left behind on your soft flesh.

“told you i wouldn’t let you fall,” he’s the first to speak, partly because he correctly thinks you’re incapable of forming anything coherent in the afterglow of your orgasm, but mostly because he wants- no, needs to hear you praise him.

needs to hear you praise him like he’d done for you that night, eyes still hooded and chest visibly heaving as he finished processing watching you swallow every spurt of hot cum he’d shot down your throat. the praise never comes.

well, at least not from you.

at first he thinks he’s imagining the sound of clapping. it’s slow, and booming, and tinted with the slightest hint of sarcasm. it grows louder though, far too loud for it to just be in his imagination. the stilling of your body, going rigid as you fall back onto his chest, the sticky remnants of your orgasm cold against his heated skin, confirms that you hear the clapping too.

“bravo, choi. always thought your reputation with the ladies was a little overhyped, but i stand corrected.”

never has he hated the sight of park seonghwa so much, not even in the times they’ve been head-to-head in the final lap and the older male’s offensively bright swim-cap is all san can see every time he twists his head to catch a breath of air.

the three swimmers stand on the opposite end of the swimming pool, all in various stages of undress.

there’s wooyoung, who looks like he’s not so much as dried himself with a towel, still dressed in his team swimwear. and yunho, who’s got a towel wrapped around his waist messily, hair damp against his forehead and likely smelling of the cheap shampoo provided in the locker-room showers. lastly, seonghwa, who’s seemingly fully dressed spar for one of those irritating long coats san always sees him trailing around campus in.

one look into your panicked eyes is enough for san to spring into action, fumbling to sit himself up and pull your body flush against his, facing your naked back in the direction of his rivals.

he bites back a groan as you shift in his lap, unknowingly- or maybe you do know- pressing your soaked centre against his erection, which already strains inside the confines of the nylon material, leaving very little to the imagination.

“do you mind?” he’s glad the words come out clearly, booming across the pool at them and their unwavering staring.

“not at all.”

san holds you tighter against him, eyeing at your discarded swimsuit on the floor as he listens to a shuffle of footsteps. assuming the three men have made their way back into the locker-room, he’s speechless when he looks up to find them approaching the bench, seonghwa leading the trio with a secure grip on the back of wooyoung’s neck, whose eyes can’t seem to leave the floor, while yunho trails a little behind them, one hand grasping onto the towel around him.

“get your hands off her!” he leans back, pulling you with him, in an attempt to stray out of seonghwa’s reach as he extends his hand out. he fails, however, and the tips of seonghwa’s elongated fingers brush over your shoulder.

a shiver runs down you, one that san feels, the unexpected touch tickling your nerves.

“she’s a grown up,” the eldest of the men muses as he builds a rhythm out of how his fingers soother over your sweat slicked skin. “who i’m sure can speak for herself if she wants my hands off her.”

out of all the men, seonghwa has always been the one san despised most. between the constant boasting of wealth- money he acquired through labor, though not the working kind- and the disrespect he’s never had a problem showing towards others, he never fails to strike a nerve, awakening a dark part of san’s brain that activates his fight or flight response. by far, however, his arrogance is the worst, that sense of entitlement that drives him to think everything and everyone is a piece of clay for him to mold and manipulate till they fit his ideal shape.

the rich boy’s hand smoothes over your naked shoulder and san can’t resist glaring up at him.

“c’mon san, now’s hardly the time to be modest,” behind the oldest swimmer, yunho and wooyoung seem to be battling an inner conflict, yunho fighting to keep his towel in place and wooyoung fighting to keep the shame off his face while his dick visibly strains against the confines of his chlorine-covered swimwear. “not after the show you two just put on.”

“we didn’t,” it’s the first time you manage to speak since covering san’s tongue in your cum, breathing at last steady and face hidden from everyone’s view, much to san’s despair. “know you were watching.”

“and, if you had known, would you have stopped?” yunho is the one asking the question and, suddenly, san’s so much more aware of what exactly he’s hiding underneath his towel.

you give no answer.

“of course she wouldn’t,” seonghwa answers for you, hand moving to grasp the back of your neck. with no warning, he grips a little too tight for comfort and and yanks you backwards, till you’re staring right into san’s eyes and the only thing keeping you perched in his lap is seonghwa’s body pressed flat against yours. “there’s nothing a whore loves more than an audience, right?”

if put on trial in a court of law and sworn to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth, over whether or not you’d just clenched around nothing at park seonghwa’s degrading name, you’d plead that you never did such a thing.

you’d be found guilty.

“poor woo nearly came untouched just watching you two. isn’t that right?” the eldest turns to stare back at where you imagine wooyoung to be. “pretty boy nearly whined just at the thought of being in san’s position, a mouth full of cunt and someone using him like the fuck-toy he is.”

the air grows thick, between you, and san, and every other living being in the room. it feels like the walls are closing in on themselves with every second that passes, the sweat dripping down your back and coming to a rest between your arse cheeks evidence that the space is heating up. or maybe it’s just your body, hardly processing the high it’s just come down from and there’s already another source for a new-found arousal, a source in the shape of three muscular men stood behind you and one beneath you, eyes wary as he gazes into your own, like he wants to ask if you’re okay but all the blood is too busy circulating in his crotch for his brain to be productive.

“now, i hardly think it’s very nice of you to get our wooyoung all riled up and not even offer to help him out.” you decide you’re being lulled into a false sense of safety the second you feel the pressure of seonghwa’s hand leave your skin. behind you, there’s a shuffling of footsteps that call you to crane your neck and catch a glimpse of what exactly is going on but san’s eyes beg you to keep staring into his, to count the galaxies that dance within them while he grips at your waist. “so the chance to offer is off the table and you’re simply going to do as told. doesn’t that sound easier, hmm? no having to make pesky decisions, just spread those legs and follow orders.”

at last, you get your first glimpse at jung wooyoung.

he sits down on the bench, no more than a breath of space between where you and san are perched. he’s a vision in himself, shoulders hunched and embarrassed face the same shade of red as the tip of his cock, an angry looking bulbous head poking out the top of far-too-tight speedos.

san’s grip tightens the longer you stare at the other boy, gaze dancing over the shape of his body and mouth-watering as, for the first time, you see the appeal of jung wooyoung. never before have you understood why eyes follow him in the hallways, like he’s more than just another pretty boy on campus- something that’s in abundance. but you see it now, understand the appeal of his stand-out nose; and the veins that run down his arms; and floppy style to his hair, that seems to be calling out to have your fingers running through it. 

with no prior warning, the grip on your hips tightens even more, till san is digging crescents into the soft skin and he’s lifting you, off of his lap and right into wooyoung’s.

the usually boisterous boy’s eyes meet yours, no longer filled with that spark of defiance and, instead, glazed over in tears, a quiet pleading being exchanged between you.

only, you’re unsure what he’s begging of you.

“are you going to just sit there,” seonghwa speaks up, boredom in his tone that has you picturing him rolling his eyes and picking at his manicured nails. “or are you going to help the poor pup cum?”

“what?!” that certainly helps you find your voice, and the guts to turn around and look at the man.

you find him stood closer than you imagined, with tailored trousers hugging his thighs and a perfectly ironed shirt tucked into them, the last few messy buttons the only indication he’d rushed to dress himself. eyes looking past him, you find more of a friendly aura in yunho, who, despite fighting a battle against the towel wrapped around his figure, manages to shoot a smile at you.

and then there’s san, who stands with muscled arms crossed over his chest and a painfully obvious boner resting in the confines of his swimwear, though he’s done a better job at keeping himself concealed than the boy beneath you. his face appears indifferent, yet the twitch in his eye speaks of a tamed anger, a frustration he’s yet to unleash on the men who’d interrupted him amidst his feast.

“are you now deaf along with being dumb or something?” the eldest pulls your attention back to him with little effort, a smirk meeting the glare you shoot his way. “you made that brat hard, now do your job and fix the mess you’ve made.”

words of protest get lost in a surprised gasp as the boy in question takes your hand in his, veiny hand guiding you down to a veiny shaft. wooyoung wraps both of your fingers over his leaking cock, his holding yours in place around him while he ruts his hips up once, twice into your hold, the action sending his swimwear even further down the his length and exposing nearly the full sight of it to the swimming hall.

you don’t mean to compare, yet you’re incapable of ignoring the fact that while wooyoung may be on the slightly shorter side compared to san, he’s certainly leading in the thickness department, with a mushroomed head and the prettiest trail of trimmed hairs leading down his pelvis.

he guides you over his shaft a number of times, a little less shy now as he outwardly whines when your thumb runs over his tip, wiping away the fat bead of precum resting upon it. at some point, he moves his hand away, needing both of his free to lean back on the bench, yet yours keeps moving at it’s own volition, stroking him in a pattern of threes, interrupting every trio with a swipe over his tip or a fondle of his still-concealed balls.

“please,” the whine in his voice is so unlike the jung wooyoung you’ve watched week after week, hurling abuse and echoing boasts of his own talents while keeping himself afloat in the swimming pool.

“he asked nicely.” you’d just about forgotten about everyone else in the room, until seonghwa’s irritatingly unbothered voice serves to remind you of his presence. “rule number one: good behaviour is rewarded.”

“what do i,” you interrupt your own question to glance over wooyoung once more. “do?” you pinch your thigh, skin stinging as nails bite it, and confirm with yourself that this is not a dream but, in fact, very much real.

jung wooyoung is hard and begging you to do something.

“i don’t care how you do it, just put one of your holes to good use for once and make him cum.”

there’s still an echo of seonghwa’s voice by the time you successfully manage to rid wooyoung of his swimwear, the damp fabric clinging to the warm skin and the taut muscles of his thighs. the boy isn’t much help either, seemingly reduced to nothing but a writhing, panting mess instead of someone competent enough to raise himself off the bench just enough for you to undress him.

the sight is mesmerising, one you’re certain will remain ingrained in your memory till the day you die: wooyoung, disheveled and untouched, with his achingly hard cock pressed flat against his lower stomach, his swimmer-thighs spread with a set of balls between them that you find yourself near salivating over as a trickle of his own precum runs down them.

“your cock’s...” you begin to speak, yet trail off as your digits wrap themselves around his shaft, just to delight in the way his breath jumps when you drag your hand upwards and give a soft squeeze as you reach the head. “so pretty, woo.”

“youngie.” seonghwa cuts in from behind you. “he prefers to be called youngie when he’s getting his cock teased.”

“yeah, youngie?” you try it out.

instantly, he nods and something akin to a whimper flies out of him.

fascinated by his shaky breaths and his pretty chest, where warm, tanned skin appears to be near glowing under the swimming halls bright lights as his cheeks flush a palette full of reds and pinks, your eyes are completely fixed on him. there’s something vulnerable and breakable about the way he’s looking at your with the widest of eyes, his eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip receiving countless abuse from his teeth.

never have you been so desperate to push someone past their own limits.

officially running on nothing but pure instincts, you close your mind off to thoughts, like how the boy you’d spent weeks avoiding and missing is stood only metres away, witnessing the way the tip of your finger teases over the slit of his sport rival’s cock. or like how park seonghwa, perhaps the campus’ most infamous trust-fund baby, seems to have complete control of the situation at hand, yourself and jung wooyoung nothing but idolised dolls he’s moving into whatever obscene position he wants you in.

instead, you focus on how wooyoung’s eyes roll back and he lets out a gasp when you gather up fluids from within your salivating mouth and part your own lips, watching how your own spit drips onto his lower stomach, and your hand, and his painfully hard cock.

the saliva serves not only as a visual pleasure, something that’s awakening inside of you at the sight of it leaving you with whole new kind of excitement bubbling along your body, but as a physical pleasure for wooyoung, who seems to have no protest to how much easier it is to slide your hand up his length with the added lubrication of your own spit. 

“fuck...” he curses under his breath and his hands find purchase on your body, one gripping your hip while the other grabs at your forehand, like he’s scared you’ll release the grip you have on him and strip away the sweet release of friction. “don’t just focus on the tip- shit, ah- play with my balls too.”

“wooyoung!” ready to oblige, ready to give the pretty faced boy anything he demanded of you, you’ve no time to think of a reply before the ringmaster of this circus reminds you of his overlooking presence behind your back. “stop speaking like an ungrateful brat and take what you’re given. or else... well, i’m sure you don’t need reminding of what happens to pups that misbehave.”

the way jung wooyoung’s whole body grows rigid beneath you, paired with the countless times park seonghwa has butted in to speak on the boy’s sexual preferences, leaves you with the sense that the two are not only acquainted with how each other’s bodies move underwater..

“s-sorry,” this is not the voice of boastful jung wooyoung, who near bounces down the college halls and airdrops nudes in class because he’s bored. this is a voice that’s soft and meek. like a beady-eyed puppy, so quick to submit to it’s owner. “just feels too good. i’m sorry”

“yeah, you will be sorry.” seonghwa’s hand is cold against your back and it lulls a shiver out of you as fingers trickle down your spine like water off a duck’s wings. part of you hates him for stealing wooyoung’s attention off of you just as you were beginning to revel in it, a larger part of you wants to know why the sternness in his voice is enough to have your clit aching to be touched. “spitfire, be a good cocksleave and sit on his dick.”

“ok, stop!” a sense of shame comes over you when it takes hearing san’s outburst to remember the fact he’s watching the scene unfold. “don’t you think you’re taking this too far now, park seonghwa? i know you and wooyoung have your... agreement on how you treat each other, but don’t drag someone else into it. not when she never even asked for this.”

“you had your tongue tasting the eighth wonder of the world on that bench twenty minutes ago, both of you knowing there was a chance you’d be caught, and you want to tell me no one was asking for this?”

“that was private! you guys are the ones who-”

“there’s no such thing as privacy in a public area. besides, it’s hardly like she’s not enjoying this. if anything, i think spitfire doesn’t like the way you’re getting in the way of her teaching youngie a lesson in obedience.” you’re naive to think no one would notice the way you’ve began to grind down on wooyoung’s cock, stealing whimpers out of him as the soaked lips of your pussy rubbed up against him and holding back your own moans each time his tip meets the bundle of nerves that make up your clit. “choi, if you’re that much of a pissy pants that can’t enjoy himself even just this once in life, then feel free to leave. i’m sure the four of us will be too occupied to notice your absence.”

you’re not paying close enough attention to figure out if san’s newfound silence is due to his departure, or if he’s simply too stunned to speak, your eyes focused on nothing and no one but the boy at your mercy.

the initial burn of wooyoung breaching your entry reminds you of how long it’s been since you’d been stretched open by something other than someone’s cold fingers or wagging tongue. it’s been more or less three long months of juggling test after test, assignments piling up on your desktop and a relationship with your now ex-boyfriend being tossed completely into the gutter.

not once had you thought your return to the world of sexual bliss would be in front of an audience, much less at the very place you work.

doubting that it’s been as long for him as it has for you, wooyoung still spares nothing when it comes to reacting to your touch. with eyes squeezing shut, head rolling back, abdomen muscles flexing along side every shaken intake of breath, the boy puts on a show so pornographic it puts the professionals to shame. a whine exits his lips, lips that carry marks of his own teeth and look like they’re in need of a healthy dose of chapstick, and look so disgustingly kissable that your own tingle at the thought.

all those rumours of jung wooyoung being a camboy rush to the forefront of your mind, feeling truer than ever when your eyes take in the bob of his adam’s apple, and the perfectly timed run of his tongue over his lower lip, and the pretty way in which the prominent veins in his hands looks as he clamps his grip down on your hips.

he’s a sight worth paying for. 

“are you okay?” not the first thing you’d imagined saying after sinking all the way down on his cock, the need to check up on him taking over before you’d even noticed it’s existence.

“yeah...” he sighs his way through the word, eyes still closed and grip still very much tight on your skin, blunt fingertips likely leaving crescent moons you’ll find yourself staring at for days to come, memories of this moment replaying in a rose-tinted haze. “just need a second, you- you feel good, fuck me.”

“i’m kinda already doing that, youngie.” you giggle, like a lovesick adolescent speaking to their crush of the week, but the boy’s instant smile upon hearing it puts out the fire of shame building in the pit of your stomach.

“hmm,” he hums back, acknowledging your words without giving you the satisfaction of hearing him tell you how you’re correct. “are you okay?”

wooyoung flips the question on you and it parallels with the way he pulls the rains in physically, lithe hips thrusting upwards in search of feeling more, reaching deeper inside of you. in the back of your mind you already picture a look of displeasure on park seonghwa’s face, scowling lips loading up to berate you and demand you take repossession of jung wooyoung’s sanity.

“yeah, i’m-” with the eldest man in mind, you stop and compose yourself, as well as you can while wooyoung’s mouthing at your neck, your collarbones, the tops of your breasts. “i’m wondering who told you you were allowed to touch me?”

control is easily regained, all it takes is your hand squeezing around jung wooyoung’s throat and your soaked walls clenching around his aching cock and he’s melting like ice cream on a warm summer’s day, leaving behind a sticky mess.

satisfaction and pleasure come crashing in tandem, wave after wave moving in motion with each lethargic roll of your body against the swimmer’s, who seems to be a quicker learner than you’d believed him to be, hands flying off your body like it was made up of hot stones and, instead, now holding a firm and grounding grip of the bench beneath you both.

“harder.” you feel a hint of emotion within park seonghwa’s voice this time he speaks. it’s fleeting, and hard to make out quite what feeling it is he’s experiencing, but it’s there and it’s certainly a step up from the usual shameless, egotistical, megalomaniac tone he takes on. “squeeze his throat tighter.”

under the possession of his commanding tone, you find yourself caving into his command, fingers pressing a little harder into wooyoung’s warm skin. the boy gulps down whatever pride he has and delivers a pleasured whine. you grind down harder and an evil, twisted part of you you’ve never met before longs to laugh at the way he so desperately is struggling to keep his composure, fighting back the urge to meet your hips with his own upward thrusts.

so, you do. 

“hear that, youngie?” seonghwa’s voice becomes less grating each time you hear it, once an unwelcome and intrusive thought but now a second voice and a valued player in a game of wreck the wooyoung. “you’re being laughed at. isn’t that just pathetic?”

“y-yes, fuck-” he falls victim to your walls clenching around him, gripping his cock in a vice grip. the image of confidence withers away so easily to reveal a teary-eyed, pretty-faced, cum-desperate man. “i’m pathetic.”

“yeah, you are.” seonghwa circles his way around the rocking bench, no longer out of view hidden behind your back but, instead, staring you down with piercing eyes that cut through you like a knife to hot butter. “he’s getting close. never lasts long, really, even seen him cum untouched just from giving me head. but that’s okay, isn’t it youngie? you’re a slut for having your sack drained, huh?”

the swimmer beneath you has never looked redder than he does right now, secrets of his sexual nature getting exposed to the people he likely considers his biggest athletic competition. though you probably should, you don’t push him away when his face finds safety in the crook of your neck, parted lips covering your burning skin in sticky drool.

“don’t let him fool you guys, he’s into the degrading nature of it all. trust me.” you wonder if it should concern you the way seonghwa speaks about jung wooyoung as though he’s nothing but a pet, a possession of which he just so happens to have complete control over. you’re more concerned with the fact it excites you. “call him a good boy, i dare you.”

the words haven’t even formed in your throat and the boy between your thighs is gripping onto your waist a little tighter, lips near pouting and eyes screwed shut in uncontrollable pleasure, burning down his spine and threatening to push him over the edge of sexual bliss.

you consider having mercy, the inexperienced side of you thinking the boy looks like he’s full of shame and embarrassment. the throbbing of his rock hard cock repeatedly stuffing your aching cunt reminds you he’s getting off on the humiliation.

“is he a good boy, though?” you stare up at park seonghwa, not even sparing a whimpering wooyoung any attention as he begins a rambled protest to defend his good behaviour. “i mean, i don’t remember telling him he could touch me. do you, hwa?”

the hands that grip you tightly let go quick, like your skin were an unexpectedly warm stove, scorching his skin right off him.

“i don’t remember either,” the eldest’s agreement has you reeling in a way you never expected, filling you with a new found sense of control.

a control that is ripped away far too quickly, like park seonghwa sensed you growing falsely confident over the situation at hand.

like a shark circling it’s prey, the tall man makes his way back around the bench, each fall of his shoe-covered feet echoing in the quiet swim hall. click, click, click, and he’s right at your back, not a word uttered as the soft of his palm lands on the nape of your neck. achingly slow does it travel down the expanse of your back, not a single noise filling the space other than the rise and fall of your body on top of wooyoung’s and the same boy’s poorly contained moans and mewls of pleasure.

the silence is interrupted by your own shocked gasp, mouth falling agape in shock as your movements come to a complete halt. his hands, no longer soft and delicate, grip you in an iron-tight hold, fingers greedy as they dig into your meaty flesh with no mercy or regard for the pain it may inflict on you.

“no, get up,” like a switch was flipped in as little as a minute, park seonghwa’s voice has lost all sense of the excitement it had whilst he spoke on jung wooyoung’s dirty endeavours and has returned back to the cold, callous, commanding tone it had originally.

he sounds angry, feels angry in the way the fingers of his free hand tangle themselves in the hair at the back of your head and give a harsh tug, forcing your head back till you’re met with his scowling face and perfectly groomed hair, even in it’s dampened state it seems to frame his face perfectly.

“what?” you babble out, dumbstruck, much like the desperate boy beneath you who’s began to mutter apology after apology between pleadings of please no don’t do this and i promise i’ll behave, i’ll keep my hands to myself.

none of it works.

“you heard me. get. up.” the fingers on your waist tug, pull, drag you away from the quivering mess that has become of jung wooyoung, who near sobs as the cool air hits his now painfully hard cock, tip redder than the bottom of your favourite heels and a vein more prominent under his sensitive skin than the ones on his muscular arms. you’re not given much of a chance to process what’s happening before seonghwa speaks again. “wooyoung, up, now. you’re not getting to cum, so get off the bench and make room for someone else.”

the boy makes no further attempt to protest, cheeks painted pink in shame and chest shining with sweat as he shakily rises to his feet, head hung low when you watch him walk out of your line of sight.

then, your knees meet the floor.

park seonghwa chuckles as you go down, hands finding grip in your hair and forcing you to sit up right. heart beating faster, your mind begins to race with questions of what comes next, who comes next.

what dirty desires are about to be unveiled within you, forced into the unforgiving fluorescent lights of the swimming hall?

“jeong, you’re up,” seonghwa’s knee digs into your back and his fingers tug until your scalp begins to sting a little. you don’t want to like it but, in life, you don’t always get what you want.

there’s a series of shuffles behind you, followed by heavy footsteps. there’s no rush, yet no hesitation, just calm and collected footsteps of someone making their way over to do god knows what with you.

when jeong yunho, with his towel that’s looking a lot tighter around his crotch still around his waist, steps into frame, an inexplicable sense of comfort washes over you.

maybe it’s the way he smiles down at you, or the fact his hands brush seonghwa’s off of you, or the way his fingers take a hold of your chin once he’s seated in front of you.

maybe it’s just the fact he’s jeong yunho, campus himbo with a reputation for walking girls home at night just to make sure they’re safe and for singing britney spears with no shame each time the karaoke mic gets passed around.

whatever it is, it’s turning you on.

your knees are burning with fresh pain as park seonghwa shoves you closer to the mammoth of a man and you can’t help but swallow down the ball of anxiety growing in your throat.

everything about jeong yunho’s demeanour has always seemed large, with powerful arms that drag his body through the weight of water and large hands that effortlessly carry countless textbooks through the university halls; a tall frame that helps him stand out in any crowd and a personality loud enough to set off alarms; his thighs a muscular stairway leading up to a well rounded, remarkably defined posterior. it’s safe to say he’s carried a reputation for some time, one that consists of whispers between girls on campus who recount just how well endowed he really is. 7 inches, 9 inches, 12 inches, you’ve heard it all, each girl claiming it to be bigger than the last.

unfortunately, there’s no ruler at your disposal to uncover the truth of the rumours, but you confirm he’s certainly large as you watch him undo the towel. larger than you’ve ever seen before, with a thickness to match, and two heavy looking balls decorating the base.

he wraps a hand around it and you watch how he gives a light squeeze at the head, slowly sliding down the length of it till he reaches the tuft of groomed hairs on his pelvic bone. one of his hands alone holds half of his cock, leaving you almost certain you’d need to use both hands on him.

“d’you want it, sweetheart?” his words are teasing but his voice is soft, a complete one-eighty to the verbal berating you’ve been receiving- and enjoying- from park seonghwa.

you’re sure he notices the way you clench your thighs as he slaps his cock once, then twice against his stomach, the precum leaking out on to his tanned skinned.

there’s an itch inside your throat, one you imagine only he can scratch.

“you wanna taste it?” he’s still speaking to you through the arousal that fogs over your brain, commanding your tongue to swipe over your bottom lip as you burn your gaze at the glistening liquid on his warm skin, tastebuds aching to have him paint them in white.

you nod your head.

his own throws itself back, a chuckle rupturing out of his chest as he continues to tease himself with his hand.

“fuck, yeah, bet you can’t wait to taste my cock, feel it stab the back of your tight throat.” a smile should never look so sweet while it’s part of the same mouth spewing out such filth. somehow, jeong yunho makes it work. “gonna get it nice and wet for me, yeah? make it sloppy, i love it when a pretty thing like you gets all messy over my cock.”

the knee that’s suddenly digging it’s way into your back has no mercy. you wince, pull in a sharp breath and inch just that little bit closer to the bench. like a glove fits a hand, you slip right in between the muscled tree trunks that make up jeong yunho’s thighs. 

you wonder, if only momentarily, what sweet a death it would be to be crushed between them, taut muscles constricting the flow of air to your lungs like a boa with its prey.

but there’s a far more preferable way to be choked by the man before you, body carved out in such definition you fear michael angelo himself stands in admiration of it.

his hand snakes its way around your body, warm and heavy and imposing with the grip it settles for at the base of your neck. in spite of the sharp stab coming from behind- where you have no doubt one park seonghwa stands with disgruntled impatience written all over his irritatingly perfect face- there is no doubt in your mind that the man in front of you holds the reigns. with eyes of honey and lips of velvet, he peers down at you with a tendered expression, saying nothing yet everything with the gentle, repeated sooth of his thumb over your skin.

you need no verbal instructions this time around.

a hand grips the base of him as the other squeezes the flesh of your own thigh, piercing your skin with just enough pressure to assure you this is the reality you find yourself in, rather than some twisted, substance influenced dream.

the first taste is the sweetest, tongue a missionary sent into the foreign land of his body to discover the way he reacts as you drag it over the tip. he gives nothing but a squeeze to the back of your neck; and that crumbles you under his control.

with a few more kitten licks- for good luck, if anything,- the show begins with the parting of your lips, the widening of your mouth, the burning of your skin as you struggle with your ability to swallow him whole. you make it no further than a third of his length before he’s tugging gently on your roots and bringing you back to the surface of existence.

“breathe, okay,” his voice is gentle, calming your nerves yet sending your heart into a fit of patternless beats. “inhale, exhale, got it? through the nose, that’s gonna help you relax.”

doing as he says, you swallow three whole breaths. shaky, ragged, each feeling hollow in your chest in comparison to the weight of his cock on your tongue.

“pretty girl,” he practically coos, hand cupping your chin as his thumb smoothes over the swell of your bottom lip. it’s tender, sweet, and almost enough to make you forget the sight of his engorged cock that sits angrily between his tree-trunk shaped thighs, crying out for the return of your mouth’s affection. “someone’s gotta teach you to not be greedy, hmm? small little mouth of yours is no fit for me, don’t go choking on it.”

heat flashes between your thighs, your heartbeat dropping right down to your clit and leaving you with a burning ache, the kind only a gentleman like this could soothe. your fingers may have to do, however, if the stubborn arsehole behind you would be so kind as to let you enjoy yourself.

the way park seonghwa curls his hand round the front of your neck and flexes his nimble fingers- that goddamn family heirloom ring a punishing cold to your warm skin, near brandishing you as touched by some nepotism child- when you do so little as clench your thighs together to relieve the pressure, or lack-there-of, between your thighs tells you he’ll grant you no such fun.

“you’d need to have something big enough for her to choke on,” san, precious san. still here, still somewhere beneath this god-forsaken tin-can roof swimming pool, watching you bruise your knees and your ego for another man, another one of his team-mates. what must he think of you? has he lost whatever respect he may have had? does he think he’d been just another body to exchange fluids with, that night at the party? if you could just see his face, you’d not need to wonder all these things. his eyes, they always give him away, too earnest and pure for his own good.

“shut it, choi,” yunho’s bark isn’t half as loud as seonghwa’s booming commands have been, and are nowhere near as malignant. if anything, the gentle giant is humoured by his team-mate’s words, as if he knows they’re a preposterous thing to say about him. then again, you can’t imagine any man remaining humble about themselves if they were so well-endowed. “or do you wanna crack out the measuring tape again and remind yourself of just how much of me there is to choke on?”

silence.

it takes a few moments for the spotlight to return to you, a gradual shift from playful to lust driven energy encapsulating the broad frame of the man before. he cups your cheek, feather-light touch smoothing over your skin while his eyes burrow daggers into your soul.

why must his shoulders be so wide? it almost angers you as much as it sends a wave of heat between your legs.

almost, but not quite.

“‘s cute,” he half mumbles, distracted by the sight you paint below him on your knees, bruises already forming and thighs clenching for some relief of pressure. “your little pussy’s all wet just from having my cock in your mouth.”

“i think you’re forgetting she was bouncing on woo’s dick a few minutes ago, yunho,” the devil on your shoulder won’t let you rest, hand snaking through the threads of your hair and tugging on your roots. not enough to hurt, just enough to sting. “have some modesty.”

“sure, let’s act like i’m not the one who had her cumming all over my face a while ago.” san mumbles a string of words you wish you could unhear, face heating up as the shame burns through your bloodstream.

how had you gotten here?

you’re allowed no such freedom to ponder over previous actions as jeong yunho’s all encompassing frame works to remind you of where you find yourself: on your knees dressed in nothing but your own shame- shame which seems to slip off of you, piece by piece, baring you shamelessly to this pack of wolf-eyed boys’ for their eyes to feast upon.

strong, veiny hands reach out and drag you forwards, just an inch yet it’s all you need to feel the weight of park seonghwa’s domineering figure float off of you, rendering you under the control of this much larger, far smilier looking man. “eyes on me, okay? don’t wanna miss the way i’m about to make them roll back.”

there begins a game of push and pull, where jeong yunho pushes you closer and closer to his evident arousal, all the while teasing you as he pulls his hips back, keeping your waiting mouth open and empty, and oh-so frustrated at the feeling of being so close yet so far away from his dripping tip.

the first real taste you get of him does, in fact, nearly have your eyes rolling back. a kitten lick, barely there yet fully felt, running over the underside of his cock, a taste of salted skin, and musky sweat, and stale chlorine mixing in with the warmth of him flooding your senses. his reaction is no more composed than yours, blatantly parting his lips in a gasp and bucking his hips up, forwards, any direction they need follow to chase after your mouth.

happy to comply, you take pride in tasting him a second time, this time right over the growing drop of pre-cum pebbling on his tip. white flashes behind your closing eyes as his grip in your hair tightens, a pulse of heat firing straight down your spine as your mind floods with images of what it must be like to watch this man, this gentleman, this figure that so wholly encompasses what it means to be a himbo in this day and age lose his cool and revolt into his most carnal, basal instincts to take whatever pleasure he needs from you with a reckless abandon, burrow his throbbing cock down your throat till the beat of his heart takes over your own.

instead, you settle for wrapping your lips around him, at last, and letting him guide you just that little bit down his length. the weight of him feels nice, a strange sense of comfort birthing in your bones as you grow used to feel of him taking up your palate. his breaths seem to run in tandem with the inches he sinks deep between your parted lips.

a deep breath, he lowers you further, till your left cheek begins to bulge out.

tongue pinned to the floor of your mouth, you make use of it as best you can, rolling it over the bottom of his shaft and earning yourself a plethora of gratifying sounds, each deep and desperate and crooning straight out of jeong yunho’s broad chest. 

another deep breath, another inch.

for all the false dominance you wield over the situation, with the heat of your mouth and spill of your own saliva slickening his cock, his real and visceral dominance doubles it by tenfold, with a hand on the back of your neck, guiding your every move, and a knowing, gentle look cast downwards at you from where he sits propped on the bench, thighs a heavy mass to case your body between. a silly little voice in your head whispers a seductive tale of how easily this man could get you in a headlock and suffocate your fragile windpipes. a wave of heat, this one going right down to your core and forcing you to pay attention to it, shifting awkwardly and clenching the muscles in your own legs in hopes of getting some pitiful amount of pressure.

all breathing stops as he hits the back of your throat.

hands pulling tight, a biting pain ripping through your hair and a tired gag creeping out of your constricting throat, yunho holds you still and strong, as unmoving as the mountains that fill the horizon from your bedroom window.

he’s not even fully in, an arguably obscene amount of him still awaiting some form of attention beyond the spill of the spit filling up your mouth. but there’s nowhere for it to go, not within your mouth at least, and so you manoeuvre your hand up and grip the neglected inches, the tip of your pinkie teasingly brushing over the swell of his balls.

he lurches forward, gasping in a breath of air at last. “fucking christ- shit,” he grits his teeth. “her mouth’s warm.”

“well, obviously. this your first time getting a blowjob or something, jeong?” god, the reminder of seonghwa being here, somewhere behind you, fox eyes judging your every move and keeping his cool, no matter how hard you’d seen his cock straining in those ridiculous pant-suit trousers he sports. it’s sickening.

“yeah, yunho, watch out before you have a repeat of 2019.”

if the taller jeong wants to snap at the other, you never find out, instead dedicating yourself to the glory of worshipping him between your parted lips and tight throat, jaw ready to lock itself in place so long as it keeps him inside.

you treat him differently than you’d treated san that night. you’d been tipsy then, buzzing off the colourful shots of who-knows-what you’d been conned into downing a half hours before, mind hazy as you kneeled between him and teased your tongue over every crevice of him it could reach, dripping him in drool and working an ache into your overused tongue by the time you got watched him spill over the edge of ecstasy. that wasn’t even about san’s pleasure, no real care put into getting him off, your own selfish need to indulge in the pleasure of feeling, tasting, worshipping him taking precedence.

but, right now, you’re overwhelmingly sober, mind hazed only by a cloud of inexplicable lust that rolled in the moment san shot you his stupid smile, and you care about making jeong yunho cum. in fact, it’s the only thing on your mind as you bob your head up and down, letting his own hand guide your pace.  

“shh, shh,” he’s hushing your own struggles for breath and carding his fingers through the tresses of your hair, his legs clamping down on either side of you, pinning you in your rightful place. “taking it so good, baby. so fucking good.”

good’s not good enough.

you want to leave him mind-blown, exhausted, unhinged. you want him clenching his jaw, and baring his teeth, and stuttering over any praise he tries to give you. in fact, you need it, need that thrill-driven lust of collapsing the sanity of a man as broad and strong and capable as him.

so you pick up the pace, fight against the steady up-and-down of his grip and try to take just that little bit more of him in your mouth and down your throat, till you’ve no doubt there’s a visible bulge of where he sits down your windpipe. you think back on what he said- i love it when a pretty thing like you gets all messy over my cock- and work towards doing just that, mouth a fountain of over-flowing spit that paints lines down your chin and over his heavy balls. the hand at his base lightly drags the tips of its nails over his burning skin and you physically feel the way his cock jumps in your mouth, head twitching as his hips involuntarily jolt forwards.

eyes as wide as a deer in headlights, you glance up to stare into his own, only to find they’re rolling back in his head, too caught up in the headiness of having your mouth on him to visually focus. it’s erotic, tracing your eyes over the protruding vein in his neck and the unrhythmic heaving of his chest- like every breath he pulls is a rare gift and a miracle- and the straining of his muscled thighs that hold back his urge to buck freely into your mouth, use you as nothing but a hole to get himself off with.

your free hand stakes claim over your own sexual frustration, nimble fingers rubbing tight, slow circles over your clit in an attempt to just ease that heat burning you from the inside out.

“she’s touching herself, jeong,” not even the irritating, grating voice of park seonghwa’s unwanted commentary can take away the kick you’re getting out of working this man into a frenzy. “are you just going to let her, without your permiss-”

“shut up, park,” yunho is wrecked, voice divulging so far from that loud, boyish charm into a dark, broken sort of gruffed out thing, echoing straight out of his chest. but, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t listen to the other man, doesn’t force his eyes open to glance down in a hazed daze to witness your pathetic attempts to work your fingers over yourself.

only, he doesn’t tell you to stop.

he just... watches. and then smiles, squeezes out what can only be described as a broken whine, and tilts his head back once more, relinquishing all control of his body over to you. the scene divulging into a chorus of mumbled words, fuck and please and yes becoming the only word yunho knows, the only three you hear. 

only as he cums does jeong yunho regain that bit of self-control he’s lost, ripping your mouth off him- a stuttered mumble of i wanna paint that pretty face- and erupting in a mess of grunted moans, cock twitching in his palm as rope after rope of white, hot fluid shoots out of it. it’s messy, and disgusting, and sticky, marking the skin on your cheeks, nestling in your hair, dripping over your shut eyelashes.

the last drops land in your parted mouth as his grasp shakes and you regain the right to wrap your lips around his mushroomed tip.

lips stained in pearly white, cheeks and neck matching too. the throb of your neglected cunt, clenching itself around nothing but the mere thought of having jeong yunho stuff you full, break you in two and leave you spent.

the man in question is in a no better state, head thrown back and chest a heaving mess glistening with the shine of his own sweat. his mouth hangs open, near heaving in breaths of air and his hands, adopting a mind of their own, grip harder in your hair and hold you firmly in place, tongue laving over his sensitive tip, pushing him closer and closer to the ledge of overstimulation.

“fuck- uh, fucking look at you,” sweet voice, foul words. two fingers drag over your cheek, coating themselves in the sticky substance he’s painted you in. “drooling all over me.”

he’s right, you are drooling. down your chin, an uncomfortable damp coat covers your overheating skin as you continue to stretch your lips around his length, ready to rip another thigh-shuddering orgasm out of the man.

yunho grants you no such pleasure.

instead, a grip tugs back on your hair and, before you can feebly attempt to catch your fleeing breath, he’s pulling you up into his lap, straddling you across the well-defined muscles of his thigh. those big, capable hands he pushes himself through pools, and rivers, and all other bodies of water manipulate your limbs however he likes, a rag-doll free for him to toy with for as long as he sees fit.

“yun-” you don’t even manage to say his name properly, not when he grinds you down into his lap, smothering his tanned skin in your juices. the friction runs straight for your pulsing clit and you’re rendered to sinking into his welcoming arms, head collapsing into the crook of his neck, parted lips panting up a storm against his sweated skin.

“that nice for you, angel?” the soft words, the rough hands, the perfect roll of your hips. you feel like you could sob, break apart completely. yunho tracing a hand up the curve of your spine and soothing his long fingers over a knot in you back doesn’t help your case. “bet it is. little bit of release to all that tension you’ve been feeling, yeah?”

you think you nod.

it’s hard to tell.

sparks fly within your loins, heating you from the inside out. yunho, at some point, has wound his fist into the tresses of your hair, nails scrapping along your scalp. it’s pleasurable, all over, soothing you into a state of utter relaxation, a being with no purpose other than to take whatever this mass of warmth and muscles and width offers you.

his hand makes a fist and gently tugs, forcing a whine out of you as you’re faced with the bright lights once more. traces of his own cum stain the very place your face had lay. it’s erotic to see, drying up your tongue with a need to lick it clean.

“no, no, focus, right here,” a single finger taps at your cheek, followed by the tilting of your chin that forces you to stare back at the hungry eyes of jeong yunho. “eyes on me. want a front row seat to watching your eyes roll back.”

god, he’s filthy, and delicate, and that just makes him all that more filthy.

swiping his digits through the remnants of his sticky cum, he makes sure you’re staring right back at him as those same fingers snake their way down between your grinding bodies and burrow themselves deep in your soaked heat. shallow pumps of his hand fuck his cum-coated fingers deeper, long and lithe enough he barely needs to move to have you feeling him all over, everywhere.

by the time he curls them, pressing against that spongy wall, you’re just about ready to cry.

“think she’s gonna cum,” oh god, no, why must he remind you of your audience? why does it no longer frighten you to have eyes watching you be defiled but, rather, have you clenching around him tighter, chasing that fever-like ecstasy the man means to deliver? “she’s gripping my fingers so tight- shit, almost makes me wanna bust my load just thinking how warm her pussy would feel round my cock.”

“don’t let her cum,” you vow, some day, to wring the neck of park seonghwa. “just cause she’s gone all cockdrunk doesn’t mean she’s earnt-”

“shut up, hwa,” the boy’s thumb pokes up and you can’t help the way you grind down into it, smothering your clit in whatever pressure you can get. “pretty baby’s more than earned it. stop being bitter that i’m the one who’s gonna give her it.”

give you it, he does.

three fingers deep, the cocktail of your wetness mixing with his cum-cated digits aiding the ebb and flow of his rhythm, jeong yunho has your toes curling, eyes rolling, thighs shaking. you blackout, for only a moment, lost in the wilderness of pleasure.

the aftershocks are barely kicking in when you’re suddenly ripped away from yunho’s hold. the sounds of your beating heart and heaving chest muffle the disgruntled exchange of words between the swim-team, inhibiting your ability to stay clued-in on the events that surround you. all you know is that when your body meets the bench once more, on all wobbly fours, jeong yunho no longer sits tall and proud.

a sharp sting hits your rear- a smack, that echoes in the empty space of the swimming hall. the only appropriate response is the shriek you let out, twisted in your own conflicting emotions of pain, and pleasure, and painful pleasure. a second smack meets the other cheek. this time, there’s no doubt a wanton whine escapes you.

“since the rest of them can’t take orders,” you’d already known it was seonghwa whose hands were suddenly all over you, pinning you in a position of submission. the sound of his grandiose voice sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine, top to tail. “i’ll have to do it myself.”

with no word of warning, he smooths his hands down the globes of your ass, teases the crease of skin where your inner thigh meets your dripping heat, and fucks two whole fingers into your sensitive core. knuckles deep, they sit still upon initial intrusion, basking in the warmth of you and coating themselves in the essence from an orgasm you’ve yet to even fully recover from and the cum yunho’d scooped off your own face.

then, at last, when your nails dig marks into the wood below, he curls them a come-hither motion.

with shame painted on your skin, you toss your head back and release an inhumane cry, eyes hazily gazing up at the horrendous white lights above. “oh god!”

“not quite. i do appreciate the flattery though,” there’s no need to glance over your shoulder to know that pompous, trust-fund baby is wearing the most earth-shattering smirk, some stupid strand of his perfectly groomed hair dangling over one of his eyes, like some 90s heartthrob boy-band member. you do it anyway.

park seonghwa is an unfairly attractive man, sporting a beauty so ethereal it almost makes you angry.

that anger seems to dampen the wetter he gets you.

his touch is slow, but by no means is it gentle. calculated and malevolent, he plays with your insides like they’re nothing but the strings to your puppet. a curl of his fingers and one of your hands shoots forward. the torturously slow pace that he pumps his digits in and out, and your jaw falls slack. his thumb bumps and grinds against your throbbing clit, and your elbows give out, sending you crashing face-first down onto the bench.

his free hand presses down on your lower back, bending you deeper, hiking your ass up higher in the air. and, at first, you think you’re imagining it, that trickle of warmth against your other entrance, believing it nothing but a trick of your melting brain.

you’re who-knows how many hours deep in a whirlwind of pleasure and penetrative stares, people have been driven to the brink of insanity over far less in the past.

but then seonghwa’s fingers leave your cunt, warm and wet trails following their journey over your skin. there’s no imaginative mind great enough in this universe to conjure up that initial shock to feeling how he prods and pokes at your puckered hole, lubricating it with the dirty mixture of both you and yunho’s cum and his very own spit.

the tip of his pointer finger ventures onward first, breaking through the surface of your tight muscles in a shallow intrusion.

the feeling has you frozen, frightened, intrigued. eyes widening, moans dying, pussy pulsating in an empty need.

“don’t go getting shy on us now, spitfire,” the collective language he uses brings back the weight of all the boys’ eyes on you. hesitantly, you angle your face off the bench, and regret it the instant you meet the brown comfort of his eyes. “fun’s just starting. ain’t that right, san?”

a tense energy takes over the large room, with san’s shoulders tensing, and yunho’s feet fidgeting, and wooyoung’s cheeks blushing. seonghwa seems impervious to the shift, whether voluntarily or not, and instead invites himself to further exploring the limits of your body.

he’s kind enough to spare a bit of care into the way his finger sinks deeper into your unexplored hole. another dribble of his hot saliva lands messily onto you, aiding the slip and slide of his hand. two, or three, or four strokes of his finger and you’re submitting to the intrusion, hips rutting higher and presenting yourself more to the man.

“come here,” the command calls over your body and, at first, you think its aimed at you. so you try scooting further back, only to be halted by seonghwa speaking once again. “yeah you, choi. come get under her.”

for the first time since this all began, you’re on the precipice of saying no.

they’d listen, all of them. wouldn’t push you, pressure you or force you to keep going, not if you truly voiced your negation. even park seonghwa, as big an arsehole as he may be, would have no qualms ending his fun and agreeing to never speak of this again.

and it’s not that you don’t want choi san under you. far from it, as you’ve already made pretty clear earlier, thighs his personal ear-warmers while his tongue delved deep for your honey-suckle glory. you’re hardly uncomfortable at the thought of him under you, chest rising repeatedly in frantic breaths and legs bent at the knee to give him just the right leverage to fuck up into your messy cunt-

it’s not till he’s three feet away from you, hands fidgeting by his side, eyes looking anywhere but you and your compromising position, and the world’s most obnoxiously boner-strained tent in his swimming gear that realisation washes over you. you’re hesitating because of him, because of his possible discomfort.

what if he wants to say no? what if he doesn’t want to get under you? what if his eyes will never look into your own again, too shocked and disgusted by all the things you’ve let be done to you? by his own team-mates/rivals, too?

hell, you’ve shocked yourself even, never in a million years had you pictured a day you’d be at the mercy of some rich prick, overdressed for every occasion and looking like a vogue-cover-model reject. but when he’s edging another finger into the already-tight squeeze of your ass, and pushing your buttons just enough to nudge you towards an edge that never seems to arrive, how could you ever dream of being anywhere else?

a hand touches your cheek.

soft. tender. it takes the extra time to soothe the pads of its fingers against your burning cheek.

“you feeling okay?” san’s quiet tone, meant only for you, is enough to move you to near-tears. you crave his hug. the position you find yourself in only allows you to reach out and grasp at where his knee bends as he crouches down to your level. it’s all the same, san knows. san understands. his own hand lands on top of yours, messily threading digits.

“she’s literally stuffed with another man’s cum and you’re worried about her? well aren’t you just the sweetest.” a cheap remark from seonghwa.

san purposefully ignores it, and everything about the man, instead choosing to keep his focus on what matters.

you.

“think you could make some room for me down there?” your nose wrinkles at his choice of words.

his giggle echoes.

“no, no, not... like that,” he guides you as he talks, grip moving to your shoulders and coaxing you up into a seating position. somewhere along the way, seonghwa’s hands leave you. he doesn’t stray too far, however, and your back soon collides against his chest. “here, pretty. want you to make space for me down here.”

within seconds, choi san’s back in his rightful place: splayed out beneath you, body fit snug between your parted legs and hair an unruly, sweated mess against his forehead.

no clothing sits between you both, blessing you with the mouthwatering drag of his cock through your folds. hard, and red, and leaking at the tip, a slight curve to the right, dribbling precum against his well-toned stomach. you’re biting your lip before you fully register your own thoughts, body a mind of its own as you grind down onto him.

control is limited and fleeting, that of which seonghwa reminds you without uttering so much as a word. instead, he clamps a harsh grip down on either side of your hips, rucks you up to where he needs you and guides you down onto san’s cock.

it’s thick, imposing and something that seonghwa blesses you no time to ease into things. instead, you’re slammed down, san buried to the hilt inside of you.

“hey there,” delicate fingers skim up the tense muscles in your thigh and find pleasure in delivering a teasing tickle to your sides. “come here often?”

the cheeky grin, the double entendre, the way san looks so goddamn proud of himself for saying it. you can’t help it, you wind up giggling uncontrollably.

wrong choice. bad idea. danger zone.

san contorts in pain, and lust, and something else you’ve never seen behind his eyes before, hissing through his teeth like some feral cat. his eyes match that of a feline too. “you trying to squeeze my dick off or something?”

you compose yourself upon the reminder of that san can feel you tensing around him, pull in a deep breath and find your voice again, at last. “or... something.”

maybe you’re a little out of breath. maybe you’re a little hoarse. it doesn’t seem to matter to the boy below, his only response being to cant his hips up and lick at the fire burning in your insides.

“you two are disgusting,” once again, park seonghwa wins gold in the nobody-asked-for-you-bum-ass-opinion olympics. let’s see if he’ll continue his winning streak and go for gold in the hypocrite-athon too!

the hands on your sides begin you guide you, with seonghwa squeezing his perfectly manicured nails into your plush skin and bouncing you down onto san. up, down, up and down, repeated strokes like the ones their hands deliver each time they breach the surface.

it’s easy, this pleasure. it’s a gift, hand-delivered by two god-like men that sandwich you between them- one a mass that fills you, the other a weight that controls you. liberating in every sense, you can’t help the way your head rolls back to find purchase on one of seonghwa’s shoulders, completely melting into the ways he winds you over san.

“shit, yes, you feel,” san’s no better than you, mouth agape and hands unsteady as they trace every inch of skin they can reach: the dimples of your back, the swell of your breasts, the hood of your clit. his hips are the only steady thing about him, not a falter in the way they grind up to kiss your dripping pussy with his cock. “so good. so warm, tight. love it.”

a hand curls round your front, travels up between your breast and over your sternum. it settled for a grip a round your throat, no pressure applied, it simply exists against your windpipe, a silent threat.

“look what you do to him, hmm,” a squeeze around your neck. seonghwa’s warm breath fans against your ear, taunting you. “look what you’re doing to them.”

through your glossed-over gaze, you trail your way past the sight of san and all his captivating beauty, settling instead on the equally erotic, not-at-all surprising image that stands just past where his head rests at the edge of the wooden bench.

a sweaty wooyoung, bent at the waist and whining up a storm, while a far more composed yunho pounds his hips into the boy’s arse.

your walls clench and san whimpers, a string of curses and pleads leaving him.

“think you’re finally ready for me?” the devil on your shoulder- at your back, more truly,- smirks into your skin, careless enough to not even feign it being anything but a rhetoric question. ready or not, park seonghwa is going to finally get his own fill of the thrill, his own satisfaction, beyond mere observation and controlling.

the spill of your own wetness slips down your thighs as san continues to fuck himself deep. it doesn’t travel far as seonghwa coats himself in you, wetting his fingers before they slip back inside your ass. a few generous, tempting pumps into your ring of muscles, fingers spreading a little further apart each time, till he decides that’s enough, he’s ready, you’re ready.

the unbuckling of a belt.

an unzipping of trousers.

trousers bunched down muscled thighs.

the first cut may be the deepest, but you highly doubt it’s as deep as seonghwa feels feeding his cock into your arse, stretching you apart to make way for him. a part of you feels like it can’t breathe, impaled on both these men who sit so deep inside you, you fear you’ll feel the ghost of their touch for weeks to come.

but what does it matter, really, when seonghwa pulls you back against him and whispers filth against your ear? 

this is all you’re good for. cock-drunk whore. gonna let us cum inside?

and san’s coaxing you down to trail his mouth over your chest, the tongue flicking over your nipple a terrible juxtapose to his crooning words?

taking it so well, baby. so tight, and perfect, and god. ‘s that what baby needs, huh, for me to touch her little clit?

the two men find a rhythm, a synchronised routine to how they pull and push you around. their thrusts ebb and flow, no moment existing where you sit empty. they treat your body like they treat the pool, swimming through your waves of pleasure and effortlessly advancing to the finishing line, the winning stroke. then, san’s hand meets your cheek and your thoughts are dragged underwater, muffling the sounds of everyone else- the shlickt sound that echoes with each inch of cock fucked into you, the high-pitched whimpers of a fucked out wooyoung, the slapping of skin against skin- as he pulls you in for a kiss.

it’s a hungry one, all teeth and tongue and swollen lips. you pull away more breathless than before and fighting back a big dopey grin, toes curling as the swell of one of their cocks hits a nice spot inside you, body too on fire to know just exactly where the new wave of heat is coming from.

“h-how d’you do it, hm?” it’s almost a whisper, something meant only for your ears, yet you hear him loud and clear, voice stuttering off in a mess of whines and moans. “still got that pretty-girl smile, even while getting fucked silly.”

it almost makes you shy, till you remember what you’re doing and who you’re doing it with. you settle for a quick, short answer. mostly because you fear you’re losing the ability to think in full-sentences, much less speak one out loud. “can multitask.”

like your own words are the key to pandora’s box, your eyes widen, and your mouth dries, and your heart reels as a new desire burrows itself somewhere between the parts of you owned by san and the parts owned by seonghwa. the desire makes room for more, for someone more, and, without much chance for second-thoughts or hesitation, you find what little stability you can manage with one hand pressing down onto san’s toned chest and reach forward with your free hand.

fingers, light as a feather, curl around wooyoung’s solid shaft. the man’s hips stutter at the unexpected contact, eyes flying open to glance down in time to watch you reach out your tongue, licking up the droplets of precum that threaten to spill from his mushroomed tip.

“please, god, please!” he’s beyond the point of sense, poor baby, struggling to keep up with yunho’s hips’ repeated slamming into his tight ass. so, you can’t really blame him or shame him for the way he hastily rips his hand through your hair, tugging your mouth as far down his cock as the angle allows.

a few hairs rip from your skull in his grip. you reward him with a pleasant hum, moans muffled with the mouth-full he’s providing you. 

“shit- look at that,” seonghwa pipes up from behind you, the motion of his hips never faulting or failing as he continues to take part in the filthiest three-way tango known to man, hands bouncing you down to meet each raise of san’s hips, plundering the other man’s cock deep, deep, deep, till he’s kissing your cervix and you’re seeing stars before your eyes. “should cup youngie’s- fucking christ- his balls, san, cup ‘em.”

you’re vaguely aware of his compliance, hand lifting off whatever part of you it was touching- your nipple, your hip, your jaw, it’s hard to tell when you feel like san’s everywhere, all over you, part of you- to graze the set of well-groomed spheres that threaten to slap your chin each time wooyoung thrusts forward.

barely two seconds, hardly any pressure against them, and the youngest of the four is nearly in tears, wailing and begging over broken whines that it’s too much, can’t take it, don’t stop.

there’s a ringing in your ear. because everything is becoming too much: wooyoung in your mouth, san rutting up into you and seonghwa’s hands clawing and pulling your body back into each of his overpowered thrusts. the boy in front of you is the first to fall apart, twitching in your mouth and, without a warning, choking you on the cum he shoots down your throat. a hand pulls you back, just enough to paint your face in the final drops released from wooyoung.

one of the other men is next, a string of curses and grunts filling the air. there’s a new stickiness between your legs, gooey white staining your skin. it’s all building up, and up, and up, until you topple over and are sent reeling into wave after wave of blinding pressure, toes cramping up and muscles spasming as you shoot off into another astral field, creaming around san and chocking seonghwa’s cock.

you don’t register the release of your hips nor the crash-down of your body. one moment, you’re pressed back against seonghwa, mouth dropped open in a silent scream for merciless pleasure, and the next you’re cradled in san’s warm embrace, a crooning tone to the way he hushes and calms you, unheard i got yous, and did so good for us, babys, and just let me hold yous falling on deaf ears.

for a moment in your own history, time ceases to exist.

there’s no ticking of the large clock on the wall, reminding you of how long ago your shift had ended. there’s no thoughts of your plant friend drying out in the staleness of your room, desperately awaiting you to revive it with some h2o. there’s no consequences awaiting your actions, no shame to be feared and leaving you unable to look any of the four swimmers in the eye ever again.

instead of being crashed against choi san’s body, a mixture of his, yours, and several other people’s bodily fluids serving as the adhesive that keeps you stuck together in your mess, you’re floating in space, not quite alive but not quite dead, just there. 

nerves tingling, body aching, mind switched off.

four, or five, or ten, maybe even fifteen minutes pass by the time you regain focus on your surroundings.

your name, whispered. it’s his voice that pulls you back, sweet and soft and oh so like the san you’re used to, the one that sends teasing winks your way when your eyes happen to meet his in class, and the one who has the prettiest notes you’ve ever seen, a colour-scheme for his every highlight and the cutest of doodles to go along with the topic on the paper.

the one who’s hand is currently brushing through your hair, fingers careful as they catch on the tangles near the split ends.

“hmm,” you swear you want to say his name, say more than that, but there’s an ache in your jaw that hinders you from even attempting, your voice-box likely having taken a beaten in the throws of your pleasured moans.

“you okay there?” he giggles over the end of the sentence, and you feel your slowing heartbeat stutter at the sound.

he feels you nod into the crook of his neck and lets his free hand find perch against your hip, moments before giving it a light squeeze. 

he’s warm, and pleasant, and soft.

and moving you both into an up-right position, hands splaying flat against your back and keeping you secure against him, your legs wrapping around his slender waist. you drift off again, between time and space, and come to at the first drop of water that lands on your back.

one drop, two drops, and then a downpour of heat crashing onto both of you.

you can tell from the colour of the pinkish tiles along the communal shower floor that you’re in the women’s changing room, and mentally note to thank him, even if he’s not aware, for bringing you somewhere you won’t have to shamefully stumble out of in the nude, your change of clothes safely tucked away within one of the lockers.

“i’m gonna put you down now, okay?” he speaks so gently that it overwhelms you, answering him only with an affirmative nod of your head.

neither of you speak while he lathers shampoo into your hair, nor when he’s dragging his soap covered hands over the cum that stains your skin, wiping it away and leaving nothing but suds where the liquid once was. he doesn’t speak while covering your eyes with his hands, blocking the sting of the shampoo. you don’t speak when you inch closer, head falling forward to rest against his chest.

when he does eventually speak again, both of your fingertips are wrinkled and bodies are clean, the water of the shower serving as nothing but a way to keep warm.

“you’re, uh, not” the echo of his voice in the empty lockers feels so much more intimate than how his cries sounded by the pool. “doing anything on wednesday, right?”

too lazy to move, you angle your face to stare up at him from his chest and take a moment to just stare, look at the way his hair is sticking to his forehead, at the way his eyes are back to being wide, at the way the marks you’d littered along his neck are becoming more prominent.

“how’d you know?” your question confirms his own, and a tenseness you’d not noticed melts off of his shoulders.

“wednesday is race day. you never work race days.”

it’s such an odd detail to have noticed, and it’s making you question everything you thought you knew about your relationship with san. do acquaintances remember each other’s schedules? do acquaintances bring each other soothing teas when they notice the other developing flu symptoms? do acquaintances waste time pulling faces at each other in lectures they should probably be paying attention to.

“i’m not taking part in the race this time, by choice. my grades are good enough, don’t need to worry about winning some championship to keep my education.” san is speaking unpromptly at this point, rambling in a way you’ve only seen him do when he’s nervous, or excited, or both. “it’s okay if you don’t want to, or you have better things to do or places to be! but, i was just thinking, maybe you’d wanna spend some time with me? there’s this medieval market down on main-street, it’s meant to be really cool, and i just think it would be even cooler to go with you? but, again, you don’t have to. forget it, actually, i’m being stupid and assuming you’re not doing something with your friends or your-”

the kiss you interrupt him with is far more innocent than the one you shared earlier, no hands rushing to touch and tongues desperate to taste, just two sets of lips moving as one.

you pull back and he chases after you, lips landing another peck before you’re grasping his cheek in your hold and forcing him back.

“i think you could have asked me to come help clean your apartment for you and i’d still say yes, just to spend my day with you,” you say, and he smiles as if on instinct, unable to stop it even if he tried.

“really?”

“really.”

“good, cause i already bought us two tickets and i really didn’t wanna have to go alone.” there’s drops of water dancing on his eyelashes, and laziness in his every movement, and you’re both still very much naked, but none of that seems to matter when he gives you another peck, like he’s awakened an addiction and your lips are now his favourite vice. “but, now that you mention it, my apartment could do with some cleaning. and i bet you’d look amazing in a maid outfit.”

a slap echoes in the showers.

“hey! don’t worry, i’ll be wearing a matching one!”

[tarotofhope]

PAC: 「What's your working style?」

(Please Read My Pinned post *IMPORTANT NOTE* before selecting a Pile)

Pick an Image by meditating and selecting the image you feel called to. You can be attracted towards more than 1 image. If you are not able to select maybe this reading isn't for you.

Pile 1

Cards: The Devil, The Star, Death, The Empress Reversed, Wheel of Fortune and The Magician.

Welcome to your reading, Pile 1. You are married to your work and you're a hard worker. You're very goal oriented and ambitious. Whatever you're working towards is not only work for you but much greater than that. Your work is your passion, your religion, your God. You even have good leadership qualities. You know how to give and earn respect. Even when you guys retire, you would still do some or the other thing as work. You just can't sit idle. You value money and you use your money wisely. I can also see one more thing here, you guys have this drive for becoming something in this world, doing something effective, having an impact, leaving a legacy. You guys are like a magnet for power and money just because you have a strong drive for work and you strive hard to achieve your goals. For a few of you, this could be the case that you had to take responsibilities at an early age because one of your parent passed away or you were stripped off of your financial support by your parents/guardian. You have good businessmanship and a lot of creative abilities. You want to become independent in your life and stand on your own two feet.

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 1. Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

Pile 2

Cards: Queen of Swords, The Hermit, The Tower, The Fool, Ace of Pentacles and 9 of Pentacles.

Welcome to your reading, Pile 2. You do your own thing and you don't like to follow any set rules or regulations. You might appear cold and tough and you somehow also know how to get other people to work for you if you want to. You have a lot of experience in life and you could be a street smart too. There could be a phase in your life(this could be your past, present or future because many people are reading this) where you had a huge financial loss and then you had to start from scratch and earn for your living and then become financially stable and satisfied. Yes, financial stability and satisfaction with material possessions is there but it will come after a lot of struggle. Whatever I said in the starting 2-3 sentences about your nature of work could be something which came after your struggle. You have learnt a lot from your struggles and that has shaped you the way you are. You are someone who would take the leap of faith, manifest a tower moment(sudden and drastic ups and downs) so that change can enter your life. You are not afraid of changes, you invite them..😉

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 2. Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

Pile 3

Cards: The Hierophant, Temperance, 5 of Swords, 7 of Wands, King of Cups and Knight of Wands.

Welcome to your reading, Pile 3. You have a great desire to follow your passion or maybe you wish you had more talents and choices in your life because you look stuck in a traditional work environment. You think you'd have your own working style if you had the opportunity to work on your own but somehow you're trapped in a normal office type job or traditional work style where there is less to no scope for creativity and personal growth and you have to follow certain rules and fulfil certain criterias. Maybe you feel stuck in a boring 9 to 5 job. This is also because of necessity, you need to pay bills and this and that, so what else you could have done? But there is this strong desire to do your dream job which is not like your normal office job. Either you are doing something as a side hustle but you earn very little from it and you want to make big in it but you also have a main job which gives you good enough money to pay your bills but you're not happy with it. There's this constant struggle to strike a balance. You don't get much time with your family due to this job and also very less holidays/vacations. There's a lot of judgement and competition at your workplace, ranks, scores and a hierarchical management which you're tired of. You don't want any of this. You want to reach at a level where you're emotionally satisfied in your work, where there is less stress and pressure.

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 3. Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

Pile 4

Cards: The High Priestess, The Sun, Page of Swords, The Magician, Empress and Knight of Cups.

Welcome to your reading, Pile 4. Looks like you're doing what your heart desires and something which pile 3 dreams of. You're very fortunate and blessed, pile 4. Your job has that proper balance of work and relaxation, work and creativity. I'm not saying that your job is easy or you don't work hard or work enough, it's just that your work is so full of creativity and enjoyment that you'd happily put more hard work in it. You'd happily and willingly struggle in it. You might feel very independent and free because of your work. You might also be very protective of your job, I mean to say that people get jealous of your job easily, whether or not you earn much from it, whether or not you're successful in it, I can see that people just couldn't digest your enjoyment and excitement which is associated with your work because they don't get to do the same. So, you could be wearing some evil eye protection talisman or bracelet/ring. The best part of your job is that you don't have to follow strict rules and regulations, you're mostly free to do your own thing. You could be into creative fields of work and you're doing this because people are known by the kind of job they're into and you want to attract like-minded people or you want to help other people who are less fortunate in regards to creative work.

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 4. Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

Pile 5

Cards: 9 of Swords, 9 of Pentacles, King of Wands, King of Pentacles, King of Cups and 6 of Pentacles.

Welcome to your reading, Pile 5. You could be into service related jobs mostly which involves doing a lot of charity and helping the needy. You don't want to see people struggling like you did in your past. Your job gets a lot of criticism by people because maybe you get to earn very little from it or because people don't understand your job, but you're happy and people don't see this. For some of you, this work could make you successful in future but it's a very slow and steady process so again people don't see any value in your work. You might be doing something unconventional and different, so you might not be supported at home too, so you're very protective of this job. Whatever you're doing is either within a community or a one man show, nothing in between. You serve a variety of people/customers involving foreigners too. You're very satisfied and content with this job and nobody can change your mind with their worldly philosophies. There is 9 of pentacles after the 9 of swords which can indicate that you got this job after a lot of struggle and bad experiences, this could be something very unattainable to you earlier, but you fought for it, worked hard for it and now you're not going to leave it. Maybe you're constantly trying to prove your worth and the value of your work, pile 5. You don't have to. The right people will admire you for your work and will also understand and respect your work choice.

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 5. Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

Thank you so much for being here. I post PAC readings every Tuesday and Friday. Do love and support by reblogging, liking or following.

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[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Yeah, I'd like a date night fic with Xinyan, Ayaka and Furina. Hold the skibidi and let it rizz until it mews please and thank you

(Genshin Impact) Date Night with Xinyan, Ayaka, and Furina

I still don't even understand any of those words.

Xinyan decided to eat at Wanmin Restaurant with S/O for their date.

She doesn't really dress all that different, but she does at least put the effort to make sure her hair is neater, as well as grabbing some perfume!

Though that one was a bit of a moot point, considering they'd both smell like food by the end of the night, but that was beside the point.

Sitting across from them on the table, Xinyan seems more energetic than usual as she bounces in her seat, chatting away with S/O about whatever came to mind.

(S/O) "Hah, you seem really excited tonight, Xinyan."

(Xinyan) "How could I not? We finally get to eat together after like, two weeks! Course I'd get all giddy with ya! Heck, I even did something special for tonight! Did ya notice?"

(S/O) "Your...makeup?"

(Xinyan) "...Hm. Guess I didn't adjust my hair enough. Explains why I still scare the daylights outta people."

S/O reached over the table to grab Xinyan's hand, suddenly turning her attention to her lover.

(S/O) "You're perfect the way you are to me."

Xinyan's mouth drops a little at the compliment before chuckling and squeezing S/O's hand back.

(Xinyan) "Jeez, when did ya become such a smoothtalker, S/O?"

The rest of the night passes far too quickly for XInyan's liking, though that compliment in particular stuck with her for many weeks after, never failing to make her into a blushing mess everytime she thought of it.

Ayaka's desire for date was quite simple: a walk through the streets of Inazuma with her S/O.

But due to her status as a Kamisato, the date would no doubt end up needlessly complicated and busy.

Especially depending on the status of S/O's birthplace and occupation.

Instead, the date ends up becoming far more relaxing, a walk through nature together.

With no one to see them, Ayaka doesn't have to worry about trying to keep prim and proper and simply be a normal girl.

Her thoughts are promptly interrupted when S/O gives her a light peck on the cheek, stunning Ayaka as she turns bright red.

(S/O) "Thinking again, Ayaka?"

Quickly being brought to the present, Ayaka gives them a smile as they continue walking under the moonlight on the trail near the Kamisato Estate.

(Ayaka) "My apologies, I was not ignoring you, was I?"

(S/O) "Nope, you just looked really cute."

Ayaka giggled at their teasing and shifted her arm to hold them closer, her smile growing bigger by the second.

(Ayaka) "T-Thank you, S/O."

Furina's idea for a date night was to:...Honestly, she didn't really know what sounded good.

They could always go out and watch a play together, go to some fancy restaurant, or something along those lines.

But S/O made a suggestion that honestly sounded much more appealing.

(S/O) "We could just have some dessert at home and cuddle!"

And now, Furina got to enjoy some rather delicious cake, with S/O feeding her a bite every now and then as she savored the flavor.

All the while, she sat on the couch enjoying the peace and quiet she had worked hard to earn for herself.

Furina sighed in content as she snuggled closer to S/O, a small but tired smile growing.

(S/O) "Furina? I think you got something on your face."

Furina's eyes widened at that and a hand moved to wipe a smudge of icing off-

Before S/O's hand gently grabbed her chin and faced it toward them, kissing the corner of her lip and then brushing their thumb at the spot.

Leaving her completely stunned for a moment.

(Furina) "I-...T-Thank you for getting that." ahem!

Though she was completely flustered now, she'd be lying if she said that didn't make her heart skip a beat.

...Or several.

[kookslastbutton]

Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m) II ch. II

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 5,044

Warnings: 8-year age gap, flashbacks of professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), fighting, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues, mentions of therapy, kookie trying to be a good husband, cute coupley stuff that idk anyone will like but 🥺 👉👈, jk says cawk , idk why this is a warning

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+

A/N: Hi guys! I'm back! I thought I'd start off with a little flashback and then diving back into the story. Also, big thing–I decided not to make jk a complete butt. I don't want this story to be about "jk finally coming around after treating oc like garbage for wanting a kid". It's more of a we'll figure-it-out-together kinda thing though there will be bumps in the road. Anyway, enjoy 🥰

<< ch.I ༓ ch. III >> | series masterlist

To say falling in love with Jungkook was an effortless, butterflies-in-your-tummy, love-at-first-sight, you-know-it-when-you-see-it sort of affair is far from the truth. In actuality, you and Jungkook met on a very normal basis and had very normal rapport…well, somewhat normal.

Jungkook was your economics professor in grad school and you were merely one out of eighty of his students during the first semester. Surely you'd be walking out with no more than a barely scrimmaged 'A' and remnants of stupid economics jokes he and his colleagues found slapstick funny.

Jungkook always had an interesting sense of humor.

Bottom line? Your life wasn't a drama and you certainly didn't plan on living like it was–especially when your parents were on your tail, making sure their hard-earned money was well spent.

As if being bonked on the head by something called fate, however, Jungkook sent you away with far more than odd jokes and good grades.

Hey, hindsight is 20/20.

four years ago

“Oh, good morning.” A soft, yet hoarse voice strides past you. You view the man, estimating that he be in his early 30s though could easily pass for 25 by his youthful appearance. His hair is black, a bit shaggy but well-kept nonetheless. Silver piercings dangle from his ears and a pair of rectangular glasses rest on his perfectly symmetrical face. This is your professor?

Undoubtedly, what mesmerizes you the most is the striking arm tattoo partially displayed under the rolled-up sleeves of his dress shirt. You remember temporarily considering tattoo artistry in high school but studio arts appealed to you more.

Not like you got to do either though, seeing as you’ve been stuck in econ for the fifth year in a row. You’re parents insisted you get your master’s immediately after undergrad…how wonderful for you.

But back to the man at the front of the room. You weren’t expecting someone so hip and attractive–very, very attractive.

Your stomach churns but you brush the feeling away.

He's your professor for god sake.

The man, coincidentally your professor, quirks a small smile your way and sets his bag on the podium at the front. “Didn’t expect anyone to be here for another twenty minutes.”

“I just got out of another class a couple of rooms down so I’m here early.” You straighten in your seat and return a smile of your own. “It’s nice to meet you Dr. Jeon. I’m Y/N.” You start bouncing your leg up and down, clicking the pen in your hand. Please be right, please be right, you chant silently, hoping you remembered the name correctly.

Jungkook notices your slightly restless state but he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Just to be sure, you are here for ECON 602 right? Macroeconomic Theory?” He unzips his bag and sets his laptop on the podium. Making brief eye contact, he catches sight of the piece of paper directly below your nose. “That’s a beautiful sketch.”

You glance down, moving the paper to the side as if embarrassed. Not many people see your work beyond close friends, and even then you like to keep it to yourself. “Yes, absolutely,” you reply. “ECON 602, 12:15 pm. And thanks, I draw as a hobby.”

Your professor hums, nodding as he connects the HDMI cable to his laptop and lowers the presentation board.“ Dr. Kim is going to be quite jealous when he hears such artistic talent is in my economics class.” He lets out a slight chuckle. “You don’t mind if I tell him, do you? A little competition we have going on.”

You snort at the comment.

Dr. Kim Taehyung was the art department’s most talked about professor. Everyone knew him for his extremely unique perspective, classy personality, as well as his breathtaking artwork. You’ve passed him in the hallways a number of times, wishing you could study under him and dare you say, in more ways than one.

“I don’t mind.” You shake your head. “Are you and Dr. Kim close?” Maybe you shouldn’t be this curious but it was now fifteen minutes until the start of class and no one else had shown. What else were you going to fill time with? Awkward silence while you watch your professor fumble and tap on his keyboard?

“We were colleagues if you can believe that.” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Only two years ahead of me in undergrad. When I first started teaching here I had no idea he was here too. But you know what they say __, it’s a small world.”

“Smaller,” you retort. “I feel like everywhere I go I run into someone I’ve known or seen at some point in my life. You just never really know I guess.” When you first entered university, you were counting your lucky stars that most of your high school peers were attending college nearby your hometown. You on the other hand were a good five to six hours from home. Last you checked, however, half of those peers were now getting married or on their second kid. Crazy how some people’s lives change on a dime.

You watch as your professor shuffles a few sheets of paper in his hands, scanning them briefly. “I can relate to that,” he mutters. “Pretty sure we haven’t met before though. Could be a bigger world than we think. Now where’s everyone else? Didn’t all drop last minute did they?” The man lifts his head, flashing a big gorgeous grin. His eyes are playful and dance with mirth.“Not that I would mind if it were just you and I this whole semester.“

“uh–“ is embarrassingly, all you say. He isn’t implying anything by that right? Oh god __, don’t be stupid. As you've established, this isn’t a romance novel and you’re most definitely not the main character.

“You seem attentive is what I mean,” the man says, breaking you out of your daze. “And beyond punctual. Two qualities that I hold in high esteem.” You’d say he had a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth but it was likely an illusion. Your professor has bigger fish to fry than worry about any possible scenarios you’ve concocted in your silly head.

Still, in a moment of sheer thoughtlessness, you say something you regret being unable to retract. “Thank you, I like you too.” As soon as the words fly out you feel the need to run out and bang your head against the wall. Thinking on your feet wasn’t your specialty.

Little to your knowledge, Jungkook finds your mannerisms cute and stifles the temptation to tease. You’re his student, after all, a little professionally please, he repeats to himself.

“So are you from here?” Jungkook asks, choosing to switch the topic before both of you get swallowed into a messy situation.

You shake your head in denial. “I live here temporarily but I grew up about five hours north of here. My parents are still there.”

“Ah, well that’s a bit away. I imagine you miss them?”

You ponder the question for a second, eyes rolling up in contemplation. “From time to time.” Jungkook gives a knowing look. He’s had his share of familial drama and the need for space.

“I understand,” he says. “I grew up ten hours south myself.”

“Wow, that’s…far.” You’re surprised by the distance and can’t imagine it’s an easy commute. You wonder how long he’s been here and more so, if he’s here alone.

“Yeah.” He rests his palms on the edge of the podium, leaning on them gently. The protruding veins in his forearms catch your attention but you pry yourself from lingering. After what you said earlier, the last thing you want is for Dr. Jeon to think you're coming on to him. “Gets a little quiet sometimes but I’ve learned to live with it.”

As if immune to learning from your mistakes you blurt exactly what’s in your head.“So you’re not–“

“Married? Dating? Seeing someone?” Jungkook finishes your sentence like it’s nothing he hasn’t done tenfold times before. “No. I’m not.”

You give a small “Ah,” nodding in understanding before another classmate walks in, putting an abrupt end to the conversation. Jungkook is quick to greet the young man who’s joined but he’s certain he won’t be forgetting your name anytime soon.

present

You tilt your head back, allowing beads of hot water to run down your bare skin. The sound of steady pattering combined with heavy steam relaxes your muscles.

You can't believe you actually told him.

Blurting out to Jungkook that you wanted a baby in the middle of a fight is not how you intended to open up to your husband. But everything escalated so fast that it just came out.

You think back to last night’s events.

Once the movie's credit scenes appear Jungkook feels your eyes burn through him from your lounged position. "You're making that face again," he says.

"There's no face."

"Look," Jungkook cuts shortly. "Will you just tell me so we can deal with it?!"

"Just deal with it? Like it's some kind of nuisance of an issue that needs treatment?" You jump up from the couch and head to your bedroom in a fury, your husband hot on your trail.

"I don't mean to be pissing you off, sweetheart but I know something's up." He follows you into the bathroom, watching you reach for your toothbrush. "Can you please slow down and talk to me?" He grabs the toothpaste before you can, forcing you to stop in your tracks.

"I–I want…I want to be a mom. I want a baby."

"A baby? What do you mean you want a baby?" You see the panic settling in his eyes. Jungkook takes you into his arms, his thumb wipes off some of your tears. "Honey, I'm sorry I didn't know. When you came home from the park I didn't realize that little boy meant so much to you."

You try blinking back your tears but they keep running down your face. He's being gentle with you and you appreciate that but his choice of words tells you his answer is no. It's quiet, subtle, and cuts like a knife.

You break away from him to splash cold water on your face. The coolness calms your nerves. “He didn’t. Never–never mind what I said, sorry. I’m tired and I’m probably not thinking straight.”

It was a blatant lie but just look at your situation. Married for two years, still on birth control, and had no plans to change that. Suddenly one party diverts from the plan fully aware that the other is perfectly comfortable with the current plan.

Yes, you hoped he'd have a slightly better reaction but you don't blame him for his stunned look.

Plus, did you even have enough time to realize what you were saying? Feeling? It could easily be written off that you were simply impulsive, emotionally vulnerable, and so on with the track record you had regarding kids and parenting.

You sigh, bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

Not much else happened after the fight. Jungkook apologized again with his arms wrapped around your waist. He snuggled his nose in the crook of your neck and kissed your cheek too.

It was the usual, it felt familiar and warm but the pang in your head put a roadblock to that. No marriage is perfect. You know that. But you have a feeling you and Jungkook are headed for a steep valley, both on opposing sides.

"Hi.” You’re taken out of your thoughts when you hear the shower door pop open. Your husband steps in, with messy hair and half-open lids. Evidently, still sleepy.

You spare him a glance and quickly reach for your body wash on the shelf. “Hi,” you reply back, voice monotone.

Jungkook moves closer behind you and curves an arm around you. He grabs the bottle out of your hand and squirts some of the soap into his palm. “How did you sleep?”

A small shiver runs up your spine when his cool hand rubs circles against your upper back and shoulder. It still feels nice, you admit. You see some of the soap drip down and hit the shower floor.

“I slept okay. You?”

“I’m about the same.” Jungkook moves his hand a little lower, making sure to cover your whole backside. “I’m really sorry about how I handled things last night. What I said and how I said it was inexcusable.”

“Please, Jungkook you don’t have to keep apologizing about it. I know…and I’m sorry I spurred it on you so suddenly. It’s not how I wanted you to find out.” if at all, you add to yourself.

“Is it still true?” he asks, stopping his movements. “Do you really want to start a family?”

You feel queasy all over again. His tone is serious and if you turn around you’ll likely see the fire in his eyes. So you remain in your position, facing towards the shower head.

“I don’t know…” you finally say after thirty seconds of eerie silence. “But I think I do, I really do. Seeing our friends and other people our age have kids makes me wonder if we’d ever have that. I can’t explain why right now. I know it’s unexpected after we’ve been living a sort of way for so long.” After another pause you continue. “But I know it’s not a mutual thing and that’s…okay.”

“Sweetheart, even if we were to have kids…where would we find the time? The school year’s starting soon and I’m gonna be running ragged at the university next week. You know my schedule. I teach Monday through Friday, leaving at 7:15 am and returning around 4 p.m. You leave for work a little later in the morning but get back at 5 p.m. All our week consists of will be eating a quick dinner together, then I have to squirrel away to my office for the night to review class notes and grade stacks of assignments.”

Though you’re aware of how crazy busy Jungkook gets during the school year, you’re not foolish enough to believe that is the root of his argument.

“Maybe you’re right that we don’t have much time now but Jungkook, we can figure it out. You only teach 9 months out of the year and I can–I can stay at home or we can hire a nanny. And we don’t have to do it right away but–“

“__.” Jungkook turns you around so you’re looking eye to eye. He hesitates to say his next words, fearing a replay of yesterday. But he can’t bring himself to pretend with you. Not on something this serious. “I understand and I want more than anything to tell you I want the same, but I can't lie to you. Being a father, and having a kid, I think it’s wonderful but I just never saw that for myself. I’m so sorry I–”

Your heart concaves into your chest. You absolutely want him to be honest but it pains you to hear. Where do you go from here?

Slowly, you wrap your arms around his neck. Jungkook jolts a bit, surprised by your sudden gesture but welcomes the embrace.

“It’s okay Jungkook.” You settle your head into his shoulder, simply wanting to be close. One tear spills out, then another. “It’s okay.”

“No, look at me __. You didn’t let me finish.” You lift your head from his shoulder. Jungkook strokes your back soothingly before continuing. “If this is what you want, then I’m not going to stand here and be the asshole husband that just dismisses it. But this is a big step.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “Don’t say what I think you are. Jungkook you don’t have to do anything.”

“I’m not saying I change my mind.” Of course, that would be unrealistic, you talk yourself through, preparing for his next words. “However, I am–I am willing to seriously consider this whole thing, babies, diapers, strollers, all of it. But I need you to be sure that this is what you want. And the only way I think that can happen is if we start this slow. Sounds like I’m making some sappy speech huh?”

Jungkook cracks a faint smile.

You look like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop or for him to yell psyche and flick your forehead or something.

But none of that happens.

Instead, Jungkook unwraps one of your arms from around your neck, places a light kiss on your knuckles, and stares deep into your eyes as if making a promise. “I know this isn’t exactly heaven to your ears but I’m just trying to say, let’s not rush to a decision yet, okay? All of this did just get revealed yesterday and I think it’d be unfair to both of us if we scurry past it without thinking.”

Shocked. You’re utterly shocked. You were expecting him to give you a flat-out no or attempt to cover up the issue somehow. While, this isn’t your ideal outcome, if Jungkook is willing to take this seriously, no bullshit necessary, then so are you.

“Thank you, Jungkook.” You smile at him, feeling a tad lighter than you did before. Your heart beats again, slow and steady. “I love you.”

“I love you more than anything __. I married you and I intend to keep it that way.” Jungkook sneaks a wink and you press a kiss to his lips.

“Hey,” you pipe up. “It’s Sunday isn’t it?”

Jungkook nods in confusion. “It is..?”

“You have somewhere to be this morning don’t you?” You wait a moment before an oh-shit expression forms on Jungkook’s face.

As you remember your husband was supposed to be at some fancy gold club today. Like Jimin, a certain Kim Taehyung had his weekly “thing” too. Being close friends, Jungkook was supposed to be there, along with Hoseok.

“‘You're so right. 'M sorry honey I gotta go. They’re gonna kill me." Jungkook gives you one last kiss before slipping out of the shower. "I’ll be back for dinner.”

“Jungkook! Where the fuck have you been? We tried calling you!” Taehyung is the first to speak as soon as he catches sight of the younger man. He has his usual blush pink polo shirt on paired with well-pressed beige shorts.

He looks a little too handsome for golf.

Jungkook’s secretly glad his wife stayed home this time, as he’s fully aware of her mini crush on Taehyung in school. When she first found out they were colleagues he could tell she had borderline stars in her eyes.

“Sorry sorry,” Jungkook says. “I was doing stuff and time escaped me. Plus, I didn’t have my phone near me for a bit. But I’m here now, so let’s get going!” Jungkook walks in front of the two men, heading for the first stage of the golf course. “You guys coming?” He turns around and lifts both arms up.

Taehyung and Hoseok exchange looks before following his lead. It’s unlike Jungkook to be this eager for golf. In fact, he hates golf. And his explanation is a bit…questionable.

As much as Hoseok is a friend, he is also just as much of a psychologist who can't stop himself from practicing his craft when given the chance. “You doing alright?” Hoseok waits for Jungkook to answer, one hand clings around the top of his golf club while the other settles around his hip. "Haven't seen you since Jimin's last dinner.”

"Yeah, I'm good," Jungkook barely replies, watching Taehyung practice and few swings before taking the shot. Like a prodigy, it sinks right in. "Hole in one again man? I thought you painted."

Taehyung glances over his shoulder with a smug expression, cocky smirk, and sunglasses behind his head. "Don't be too jealous of hyung, Jungkookie."

"Fuck off Tae," Jungkook quips back. "I'm not 22 anymore. I have a good job, nice house, and a gorgeous wife waiting for me at home. What do you have? A bunch of golf balls in your pants.”

Hmm, a little more defensive than usual, Hoseok notes. And guarded too, something’s up.

"About that wife of yours Kook," Hoseok drawls. "How she doing?" Jungkook turns towards the man, slight distaste on his face.

“Uh, she’s fine. Thanks for asking. Also, I know what you’re doing and I’m not in the mood.”

"Ah Jungkook, you act like I'm being so malicious.” Smiling, Hoseok continues. “Can't I care about my friend of ten years without such accusations?"

Jungkook sighs and kicks the grass. Hoseok has been one of his closest friends for a long time so if there's anyone worth talking to about his current situation and who'd understand, I'd be him. "Well, I’m not saying much right now but.....__ recently told me she wants a baby. I’m still–I'm having trouble processing it. But I’m trying.”

Hoseok throws a hand behind the younger's shoulder. “That’s big news Jungkook and it’s completely fine that you’re still working through it. Don’t feel like you have to speed up the process either. I’ve known you both long enough to know that parenting hasn’t really been in the cards until now so I’m surprised myself.”

“I think she’s still a little unsure, but something happened the other day and it struck a cord inside her. She wants a family and,” Jungkook steps to the side, and Hoseok's hand slips from his shoulder. “I wish I could tell her I want it too. But I can't lie to her like that. I also don’t want her to bury that desire for my sake, so I told her we could consider it. I don’t know man, I feel like I’m trying to do the right thing but I don’t know if I can do this. Will I ever change my mind? I want to, for her.”

Hoseok looks at his friend with soft eyes, compassion in them. “Unfortunately, this is not something you can foresee nor force. At least not this early. But you’re definitely doing the right thing by not brushing her off. As real as your feelings are about not wanting a child right now, so are __'s feelings. It’s best you listen to both sides.”

Jungkook tousles his hair around. “I just–fuck.”

Hoseok doesn’t need further explanation to understand Jungkook’s predicament. He’s frustrated, blames himself, and is struggling to come to terms with reality. The unknown scares him and he doesn’t want to lose control of what little he has. “I’m sorry, Kook…it’s a heavy load. Why don't you come in for a session sometime? I think this might be something worth talking through."

“You mean therapy? I don't know, I’m about to have a pretty tight with school starting.”

"One hour, forty minutes at least," Hoseok insists. "Why not try it once and if you don't like it, you don't have to do it again. I love you both and as a friend, I want to be here for you. Beats standing around and watching Taehyung kick our ass at golf. Just think about it and let me know. As I said, I'm always here for you bro."

Jungkook nods and reaches a hand out to gently squeeze Hoseok's shoulder. "I'll think about it. Thanks."

"Hey!" Taehyung waves from afar. "What you guys doing still up there? I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes! Don’t forget that last place buys lunch.”

“He’s referring to you Kook.” Hoseok chuckles, slaps Jungkook on the back, and walks down the golf course toward Taehyung. “You suck at golf.”

Jungkook grunts, following close behind. If this were a benching competition he’d be taking home the whole damn meal.

With Jungkook still gone doing who knows what with his buddies you decide to blast your very wide array of music. It’s a good thing you and Jungkook live in your own house or else your poor neighbors would be knocking down the door with the landlord by now. Yes, that may or may not have happened once with you were in college.

Along with the music you stick true to your character and spread your art supplies on your drawing table. You had your own mini studio, thanks to your wonderful relator who helped find you the house. You reach for a pencil, spinning it between your fingers. Maybe you should finish the drawing of the park’s pond.

Mm, you don’t really feel like packing all your supplies and driving over right now.

Deciding to save it for another day, you ponder ideas of what to do instead. Should you try out your new watercolors? You bought them last week and while you weren’t exactly in low supply, if your husband can have a hundred scented candles you can have your paints.

bling–

You snatch your phone hearing the notification bell.

Jungkook: the rest of your morning going well? [sent at 11:03 a.m]

You smile faintly and type out a reply. Sweet to check in you suppose.

__: Fine. How are the guys? [sent at 11:04 a.m]

Jungkook: Whooping my ass but it’s alright. [sent at 11:07 a.m]

Good, you smirk. Jungkook is awful at golf. And he can stand to lose at something like the rest of you.

__: When are you coming home? [sent at 11:10 a.m]

Jungkook: Looking to wrap things up around 4 pm. I think we’re having a late lunch. Miss you. [sent at 11:13 a.m]

__: Okay, sounds good because I was thinking maybe we could go for ice cream when you get back. After dinner? miss you too [sent at 11:14 a.m]

You stare at the screen, waiting for a reply.

One minute goes by…

Two minutes…

Three…

Jungkook: Okay, sounds amazing. But why not before dinner? The place we like closes early on Sundays. I love you! [sent at 11:17 a.m]

Oh shoot, that’s right. You and Junkook have gone to the same ice cream shake since you first started dating. The couple who run it are super sweet, only a decade older. How could you forget?

__: I’m a dummy, yes we’ll go before dinner. I love you too [sent at 11:18 a.m]

Jungkook: Noo, you’re not a dummy! But okay, I’ll see you soon! [sent at 11:19 a.m]

Rejuvenated, you turn off your phone, jump off your art stool and crank the current song up–Runaway by Bon Jovi. Let’s see, you think, tearing a piece of watercolor paper from your drawing pad, what to do.

When the idea strikes you prepare water, paintbrushes, your palette, and anything else you may need for the next five hours give or take. You snatch your phone again and scroll through your photo gallery, hoping to get a good reference photo.

Your best friend’s birthday was two weeks away and she’s been subtly hinting for a painting of her, her fiancee’, and her dog Bear. As her closest friend and well-practiced artist, you think it is best to appease her request.

Jungkook comes home at 4 pm on the dot. Not a minute later. He looks happy, you conclude. Genuinely happy. It looks good on him.

“__!” Jungkook runs through the front door and lifts you up in his arms. He spins you around and you place your hands on his shoulders. This is so unexpected but nice.

“Jungkook,” you struggle to catch your breath. “What’s going on?”

“I just love coming home to you.” He places you back down and grabs your wrist. “Come on, I wanna stuff you full with ice cream.”

“That sounds so weird,” you laugh.

“Why?” Jungkook opens the front door, ushering you to go ahead of him.

“Because…it sounds like you want to stuff me. Like in a weird way.”

“Woman, that cleared nothing up for me.” You hop into the car with stupid grins on your face. You don’t even know what you mean let alone having to explain to your husband. What can you say, Jungkook makes you a little braindead.

“I just mean that you wanting to stuff me with ice cream sounds like the witch from Hanzel and Gretel. You wanna fatten me up to eat me. Or taxidermy,….or Build a Bear.”

“What the fuck honey,” Jungkook curses, backing out of your drive. “Did you get into something funky while I was gone?”

“No what–ugh never mind.” You stare out the window, arms crossed and biting back the need to giggle uncontrollably. Why were you so giddy right now?

Jungkook glances over with amusement. He knows you’re inches away from balling over with laughter. “You know what honey?”

“Hmm?”

“I think instead of stuffing you full of ice cream, I’m gonna stuff you full with something just as good.”

“Don’t say it Kook, don’t. I’m going to bust a gut.” You beg fully aware he’s not about to back down.

“My fucking cawk,” he says, making sure to exaggerate the last part.

You throw a hand over your mouth, tears well up in your eyes and this time, they’re not sad ones.

You pull up at the small, but charming ice cream stand at around 4:20 pm. It’s a decent crowd tonight.

You and Jungkook get out of the car with laced hands. You’ve managed to calm down now, thankfully. As you make your way to the line a small voice catches both your attention.

“Appa!” A little girl with blue ribbons in her hair runs past you. She looks between eight to ten years old. You and Jungkook follow her movement as she leaps up into her father’s arms.

You smile at the interaction. Her father kisses her cheek and chuckles as she shows him her ribbons. She looks like she’s telling a very eventful story.

Beside you, Jungkook stiffens. His eyes set on the pair but you’re unsure what he’s thinking. “Kook?” you say, but he doesn’t respond. You shake his hand, the one laced in yours, but still no response. It’s when you step in front of his view that you get him back.

“Hey,” you say. “Are you okay?”

Jungkook blinks at you and shakes his head a bit. “I’m good, sorry. Not sure what happened there. Must be a bit out of it today. Let’s go get some ice cream.”

A/N: I like this series vv much...thank you to anyone reading :) Lmk your thoughts and if you wanna be tagged comment or send me an ask!

Taglist:

@frieschan @oldermenluverrr @tatamicc @kookswifesblog @llallaaa @sunnybyeol @namtaeh @exactlygreatcoffee @whipwhoops @yoongisducky @ktnj91 @junecat18 @thvlover7 @yoongiworshiper

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[merakiui]

the idea of waking up in the middle of being gang banged bye the first years is messing up my head

seeing a pussy drunk suede drilling and muttering about how good you feel and how he can’t stop moving his hips feeling a few loads in you even after someone (ace) talked about how good his pull out game is

and jack cooing u back to sleep while ur trying to push em away u had a long day u should get plenty of rest just let them take care of you~

aaaa they're all terrible. Deuce is so pussy-drunk and can't stop even though he keeps telling you he will, Ace and Epel are competing to see who can cum the most inside of you before they're tapped out, and Sebek's trying so hard not to succumb to such carnal desires. There's no way he'd ever fall for a human's charms so easily! His restraint is abysmal because his grip on your hips is so strong and he is shaking,,, omg he's never known a sensation as sweet as this, and you look so cute squirming beneath him while someone else rests your head in his lap, brushing your hair out of your eyes.

You're so fucked out and exhausted, and you keep softly begging them to stop. But it's hard to protest when another cock is being stuffed down your throat and two more are sliding into either of your empty hands. <3 they're all so sloppy with their movements and touches, and it's hard to keep track of who came where and if you'll ever get a break being passed around from cock to cock.

Jack tried so hard not to be as bad as the others because he loves you so much and doesn't want you to hate or fear him in any way, but it's so difficult to resist when he's got Ace in his ear goading him into a useless competition about who can knock you up first and he keeps hearing your pretty moans and smelling your arousal...... And oooo does Jack want you so badly. T_T it's instinct to want to breed you and make you his mate and start a family and live such a happy life together! He wanted to do everything fairly and sweetly and court you without any force in the beginning. But he can't help it once he sinks into your warmth and you're grabbing at his shoulders and begging him to pull out because it's too much, too big, he'll break you... >_< it'll certainly feel even more so when he knots you. Completely accidental, of course!!!! Jack just couldn't help it. orz you felt too good, and you'll be stuck together for quite some time.

But everyone's your good friend! <3 they'll take care of you and clean you up and shower you with boundless love. It's stifling, but they're some of the closest friends you have here at NRC. You trust them, even if that trust earned you a sleeping spell, an aphrodisiac, and a sex marathon.

[hypnoneghoul]

Hyp how do you feel about Dew or Aeon getting railed into nothing but pathetic whimpers by Rain or Swiss?

ehhehe

ngl you always come here with the best damn requests... you said "or" but i saw an opportunity so i went and made it an "and"

850 words, transmasc dew, transmasc aeon/phantom (used aeon because thats the name in the ask and its whatever for me), vaginal sex, praise and slight objectification

Having proper sex on tour wasn’t the easiest. Of course, the ghouls always managed, but proper sex? It usually had to wait for a hotel night and even then they rarely could go full in, being tired of getting scolded for noise complaints and… other complaints. Also the beds were usually too small.

Usually…

This time, for whatever reason, Dewdrop, Swiss, Aeon and Rain were all put into a room together. They all groaned at the news, already imagining being stuck in some tiny shithole where they’d have to constantly keep themselves from ripping each other’s heads off. It all changed when they actually saw the room.

Again, for whatever reason, this hotel was good. Great, even, and the four of them had no idea what they did to deserve such a room, but they’d use it well. Very well.

A few hours after they got to the hotel they were already in the middle of something that could be called an orgy if not the lack of… ritualism.

The first round went by too quickly for anyone’s liking, due to their pent up energy, but they could go for as many rounds as their little demon hearts desired. They had started out with Rain laying flat on the bed on his back, face smothered in Dewdrop’s pussy as the fire ghoul sat on his face, moaning like a whore against the headboard. Rain’s cock had been passionately sucked by a certain quintessence ghoul, who in turn was being fucked from behind by Swiss.

Everyone knew who’d go first, and sure enough, it didn’t take much for Aeon to moan wantonly around Rain’s cock as he’d come, his cunt clenching around Swiss’ dick. That threw both the water and multi ghoul over the edge, too, and Dewdrop had followed shortly after, flooding Rain’s face with slick.

Soon enough they were on it again, this time Rain and Swiss pounding into Dewdrop and Aeon respectively, with all their might, from behind. Skin slapping against skin, various bodily fluids soiling the sheets; moans, whimpers, grunts and cries along with filth and praise spilling from different sets of lips.

“Good boy, Aeon,” Swiss groaned, earning himself a squeeze around his cock for the praise. The quintessence ghoul whimpered under him and Swiss could see tears or drool—or both—dripping from his face onto the bed. “My good doll.”

The noise that left Aeon this time made Rain next to them growl, drilling his cock deep into Dewdrop. It was his turn to moan wreckedly and shudder, arms barely able to hold himself up. Rain smoothed a hand down his sweaty back as he bent down over him, not being able to stop himself from a moment of softness.

“Doing so good for me, droplet,” he whispered. Dewdrop whimpered pathetically, all but choking on his spit. The water ghoul smirked at that, pressing a kiss to the top of his mate’s spine before straightening back up and snapping his hips again, making Dewdrop rock forward.

Swiss turned his head to Rain, grinning at him as he mimicked him, nearly sending Aeon flying to the other end of the bed. “Wanna switch?”

“What?” the water ghoul huffed.

“Our little fuck dolls,” Swiss explained, still grinning, and Rain’s cock kicked when Dewdrop clenched at his words. He liked the idea, then.

With one last thrust Rain pulled out, groaning at the sight of his mate’s ruined cunt. Swiss did the same, slapping Aeon’s ass on his way, and after a bit of shuffling, the water and multi ghoul were slamming back into Aeon and Dewdrop.

All of them were so sensitive, they felt so close, but still not really there. Dewdrop and Aeon were so fucked out that they couldn’t do anything but let out wrecked noises and incoherent babbling. Swiss and Rain weren’t much better off, holding onto their minds with iron grips.

He was so gone he probably didn’t even know who was fucking him.

Soon enough, though, Dewdrop’s moans started to increase in pitch and his cunt started to feel even more slippery, driving Swiss truly insane, but it was something else that made him cum at the spot.

“I’m c– close… Rainy, please.”

Swiss let out a broken whine and folded himself over the fire ghoul, snapping his hips one more time to bury himself in as deep as he’d go and spill inside Dewdrop, clinging to his back. His second orgasm of the night washed over him, too, at the feeling of being pumped full of warm cum.

When the multi ghoul’s sight returned to him, he noticed Aeon was currently squished under Rain next to them. He guessed Dewdrop’s words affected him as much.

The four of them panted heavily, half passed out. Swiss glued his cheek to Dewdrop’s shoulder and kicked up a pleased purr at the intensity of his smell. He closed his eyes for a second.

Or so he thought, because when he opened them again—after not getting a response to something he said—everyone was asleep. In the same positions that they’ve cum in.

[sleepysnk]

sorry!! i know you’re not taking requests rn but thoughts on hanma being envious over reader and draken’s relationship and then him comforting (😉) reader after their breakup!!!!!

a/n: i saw this.. and my brain went to work mode. thank you for sending this in!! i hope you enjoy <3!

pairings: hanma shuji x fem!reader

warnings: college au, angst, cheating, mentions of draken x reader, breakups, nsfw, oral sex f!receiving, use of pet names (baby, doll, babydoll, princess), jealousy, possessive behaviors, choking, unprotected sex, breeding kink, some mentions of after care, mentions of cigarettes.

moth to a flame ft. hanma shuji

Hanma Shuji was the kind of man who could wrap any girl around his finger.

In some ways, Hanma was every girl’s dream man. He was standing at six foot four, had golden eyes like the rays of the sun, and gorgeous black and blonde hair that sat atop his head. The addition of the kanji on his hands only gave him more attention from the women he saw at parties or in his classes. He was no doubt a handsome man. Every girl on campus fantasized being in bed with the male. Some even got lucky and spent an evening with him. Their recounts were all the same. He was a blessing in the sheets and he worked wonders with his body to make a woman feel good.

Hanma knew he was an attractive guy. He was often called cocky or self centered by the insecure men on campus who were envious of the man’s popularity. It’d earn a couple laughs from him and he usually shrugged off such comments, because to be blunt, he didn’t have a single care in the world for any guy who came off as insecure. They could dream all they wanted. They would never be Hanma Shuji.

When he began his sophomore year of university, he figured he’d be used to the familiar routine he had his previous year. He would go to parties, indulge in some alcohol, and smoke cigarettes with the friends he had made prior. It was supposed to be an average year of dreaded assignments and waking up at the crack of dawn to get ready for class. He knew the routine. 

However, as with some routines, they begin to get disrupted by things out of their control.

That’s exactly what you did to Hanma’s usual college routine. You destroyed that wavelength he was riding on for the past year, and he was not a fan of that sudden shift. 

Hanma’s very first encounter with you occurred at a fraternity party. His honey eyes were searching for someone to hook up with that evening. He was already so exhausted from his classes that he needed some sort of release from the problems he was facing. There were many options in front of the man, but you were the jewel that shined behind them all. Hanma found it hard to believe that a woman as beautiful as you wasn’t paired with another man. Your glittery skirt that twinkled like stars on a dark night was what really stuck out. Though, it was your beauty that completely cultivated the man who was sitting just one room away from you.

The cigarette between his chapped lips almost slipped away from his mouth from how intensely he was staring at you. Could someone like you really be real? It was almost as if the gods themselves designed you like you were meant to be the perfect human being. 

What a woman he thought to himself. 

However, with that beauty brought disappointment to the man who had desired you. Hanma’s once excited heart had slowed when another man had draped his arm around your shoulders. He had bitter emotions when he realized that it was Ken Ryuguji that had accompanied you. How could that asshole pull a fine dime like you? He was well aware that Draken was a relevant man on campus. He was also known for his looks and his friendly nature towards his peers. Despite that, Hanma disliked the other man. He just couldn’t place his finger on why he couldn’t stand him.

Hanma eventually dropped the idea of trying to make a move on you, and moved on to some other random girl who had caught his attention. He let it go. It’s what he had to do. 

Unfortunately, that didn’t last long for him. 

Hanma didn’t know what it was, but you had infected his brain like a parasite and you refused to leave. He had barely ever seen you on campus except for the occasional chance that you were in the dining hall at the same time he was, but otherwise, you two hardly ever interacted with each other. What the fuck was his reasoning for thinking of you so much? You had a boyfriend. He was never the type to cross those kinds of boundaries, especially with guys like Ken Ryuguji around. He knew that’d lead to some unfortunate events that Hanma wasn’t looking to get involved in.

It didn’t take very long for Hanma to hear about the details of your relationship with Draken. He’d see the two of you all the time around campus. Sometimes you’d exchange kisses before heading to class, or Draken would hold your hand whenever he walked you back to your residence hall. Hanma despised seeing the two of you in such a romantic manner. He never liked relationships to begin with. He had enough sour run-ins with other girls in his past, so the idea of one made him physically ill. He also strayed away from them simply because who genuinely wanted a serious relationship in college? Many people his age were only there to have sexual relationships and nothing more than that. He was just another soul who trailed along with the bandwagon.

He often rolled his eyes whenever he saw social media posts about you and Draken. He’d see you two posing in different photos and your smile would be so wide that he was surprised your cheeks didn’t hurt afterwards. Hanma did his best to filter out those images from his mind, but they always flooded in at the worst moments. He just didn’t understand it. Why was he so perplexed by you? What did you do to him? 

“You like her, idiot.”

When his best friend Kisaki mentioned that to him, Hanma couldn’t help but chuckle. He honestly thought his companion was just messing around, but that laugh quickly faded when he saw Kisaki’s expression remain unchanged. He didn’t think he was genuinely serious, but he was. Hanma would never have thought that he liked you. It didn’t seem plausible whatsoever. He was practically one of the school’s playboys. Why would he of all people begin to fall for a girl that had hardly even looked his way? 

Denial was a great emotion and it was clear as day that Hanma was living through it.

He didn’t want to believe what Kisaki was saying was truthful. Hanma just thought you were a pretty girl, but if you were just a pretty girl, why were you on his mind? None of it made sense, nor did it add up. He wanted to believe he was just going through some odd phase and he’d be over it within a week or two. 

Weeks turned to months and here he was a year later. 

Hanma had completely pushed you out of his mind. He went on with his sophomore year and he ended up finishing it up faster than he had ever expected. He would occasionally see you roaming around campus with your friends or with your boyfriend, but otherwise, he completely avoided your presence. It sort of worked too. He had a completely opposite schedule than you did, and he was thankful that those emotions he once felt had fizzled out. He felt as if he could return to his normal routine he had his freshmen year. Hanma was beyond relieved to feel a sense of freedom.

Now entering his junior year, he had many things to look forward to as a third year in university. 

Being an upperclassman, his twenty-first birthday, and most of all, spending it with the people closest to him. He was beginning to look forward to the new beginnings that his junior year had to offer. He just couldn’t believe that he was already one year away from graduation. 

Though, this brought many stressors. 

Hanma had to figure out what the fuck he wanted to do with his life. He couldn’t keep fucking around and living his life in bliss. His academic advisor had warned him that things were about to get serious for the man, and he was somewhat afraid of that fact. He was growing up. One day, there wouldn’t be any more parties or hang outs with his friends. He couldn’t lie that it scared him shitless at times whenever he thought about it too much. He also had parents to impress while in the process. It took his mother a shit ton of work to even cough up the cost for his education. He didn’t want to disappoint anyone, let alone the one person on this earth that helped him get to where he is now. 

It burdened his mind so much he had to go out and take a breather. 

Hanma had picked up his smoking habit as a teenager. He remembered one of the kids in his high school handing him one inside of their car, and he never stopped since. His mother often scolded him for involving himself in that kind of lifestyle. Smoking sort of killed his lungs and now he can hardly go a day without pulling out one of the cancer sticks from his pocket. It wasn’t made any better when he was stressed from school, or just random shit in general that gave the man a problem.

The situation was no different now. He was roaming the sidewalks of the empty campus that was usually buzzing with life, but since the sun had gone down just an hour prior, it was pretty much a ghost town aside from him. He had one of his cigarettes between his teeth with the end burning, letting the strong stench of smoke fill his lungs with every breath. It was a quiet evening. The moon was bright and full in the night sky with an occasional cotton like cloud blanketing its surface. The lights that illuminated the campus walkways were beaming their usual yellow glow, revealing nothing but the grass or random bushels that were planted along the concrete. It was slowly turning into fall, but the air was sticky with humidity suffocating it. It didn’t seem to bother Hanma much, though. He just allowed the air to envelop his skin. 

Hanma had one of his hands inside the pocket of his shorts. He fished and twisted the lighter between his fingers while he walked the path of the walkway. It was a Friday evening, so many of the students were on the way to parties or they were heading home for the long weekend ahead. Hanma wasn’t doing either of those things. It was kind of a bummer, considering he always looked forward to getting intoxicated until the sun came up the next morning. He was just too exhausted to even think about staying up that late. 

Was this what being an adult felt like? 

He blew smoke through his nose, his eyes searching the surroundings. He could have sworn he saw a stray squirrel running through the trees, but he wasn’t too concerned about it. He just wanted to finish his walk and head back to his dorm where he’d probably just go straight to bed. None of his friends were around to hang out anyway.

Hanma’s body was about to turn down the other walkway, but he was halted when his eye caught the shadow of a person in the distance. To be honest, it scared the shit out of him at first. From where he was standing, it honestly looked like there was a ghost sitting on the bench underneath the light. Hanma knew of weirdos that would camp around campus looking to cause trouble, but that was fucking creepy. Any normal person would have minded their own business, but Hanma was curious. He wanted to know who was there and what they were up to. He was aware of a handful of parties occurring that evening, so he wondered if it was someone waiting for an Uber or someone who wandered away while drunk.

He flicked the end of his cigarette, then began creeping closer to the figure in the dark. They seemed unmoving and quite still, but Hanma could somewhat make out their features. It was a woman, and she seemed to be focused on something. He really hoped that deep down it wasn’t some kind of horror movie scenario where the curious guy gets murdered by the lady under the streetlight. 

As he grew closer, his vision began to become clearer and the cigarette between his lips almost went slack. 

Hanma’s heart quickened inside his chest when he realized that the person sitting underneath the light was you. Many questions bubbled inside his mind. Why were you alone out here? Why did you seem visibly upset? What was going on? He honestly didn’t know what to do. Hanma knew that any cautious woman wouldn’t be so easy going when it came to random men lurking around campus after hours. He wasn’t trying to give off the impression that he wanted to harm you, or do something bad. Hanma had the utmost intentions when it came to you. He’d never do something disrespectful or completely out of pocket to someone.

He hadn’t seen you since last semester. This was his first time seeing you in a few months. Not much had changed really. You still had that jaw dropping beauty that could make even him fall to his knees. It was almost as if those familiar feelings he had prior had somehow resurfaced, hitting him like a tidal wave. 

Hanma hadn’t realized how close he had gotten until you had lifted your head and stared at him like a deer in front of headlights. He wasn’t sure what to say, nor do. The cigarette he had previously lit was now burning, allowing some of the ash to split apart and trickle down onto the concrete near his feet. He was frozen there in front of you. What was he supposed to say? Being honest, it looked kind of awkward to have him standing there with a blank expression on his features. There was so much silence that he could practically hear the sound of cars roaring to life in the distance.

One thing was clear about your expression, and that was that you seemed off. You didn’t have that familiar smile he was so used to seeing on a daily basis. If anything, your mood seemed sour and you honestly seemed full of sorrow. He couldn’t see much detail due to the position of your head, but he knew something was wrong with you. 

“I’m sorry.. do you come here often or something? I can leave..”

Holy fuck. He was at a loss for words. Hanma had heard you speak before, but your voice was much softer now. It sounded apologetic, almost as if you were afraid to speak to the taller man. He had to admit, you had every right to be cautious around him. He was a six foot four man out in the evening with just a cigarette in his hand. That sort of reaction was deserved, but it only made him more curious. You were alone for a reason. You were usually such a social butterfly with someone by your side, so why was there a sudden absence.

Hanma swallowed, trying to find a response that seemed valid. He knew it was best to be as honest as possible with you. The very last thing the man wanted was to scare you or put you in an uncomfortable position. “No..” he cleared his throat, trying to remove that lump that had formed. “I was just takin’ a stroll.. and I saw you in the distance, so I was curious.” 

You remained quiet where you sat. Hanma tried to not stare too hard at you, but he wanted to try and read you. It was incredibly difficult though because he had no idea what your thoughts were or what was going through your mind. He figured he would just leave your presence, but there was another side of the man that told him to stay and watch you. You were by yourself out there. The night always brought out the bad in people and it’s when the creeps usually started lurking. He didn’t want something bad to happen to you out there. 

Hanma was surprised to see you shift around on the metal bench. You maneuvered yourself so your feet were now on the bench, and your knees were close to where your face was. Basically, you were in a fetal position, but you were sitting up. You sniffled, which caught his attention. It wasn’t cold outside, so you must have been crying. “I just needed to clear my head.. that’s all.” you stared at the specks of grass just a few feet before you. “I doubt telling a stranger would do much good..” 

Hanma frowned at your last sentence. He knew you probably had no idea who he was, which was a bit shocking because of his reputation, but that wasn’t exactly important right now. He didn’t like intruding in the business of those he didn’t really know much about, but you were clearly upset about something. He could see it in your body language and by your tone. 

Much to his dismay, he had no clue what to respond with. He couldn’t necessarily force you into speaking about whatever issue was on your mind. 

He took another hit of his cigarette, which was now nearing the end of its life. He released the smoke through his mouth upwards towards the sky, watching it disappear within the night. He just couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact with you. He didn’t know what it was. Hanma Shuji had spent his entire life making everyone around him fall to their knees, yet here he was now doing the same exact thing he swore he’d never do for someone else. “I see.. seems we’re in the same boat.” he finally spoke, averting his gaze to the sidewalk. “I hope your troubles get better, though.” 

Hanma flicked the end of his cigarette into the grass, then turned around to head back towards the dormitory he resided in. It was kind of a bummer, to be honest. He thought that maybe he’d have a chance to speak with you one on one for once in his life, but he seems to never reach that side of luck. 

“Wait..!”

His footsteps paused at the call of your voice booming behind him. Hanma’s head turned to look at you. You were still sitting atop the bench he had previously met you on, but your feet were now on the ground. He grew curious at your sudden outburst. Was there a reason for it? He wanted to know what was going through your mind, so he took a step back in the same direction you were in. 

Hanma could tell you seemed hesitant to speak to him. That’s what bothered him the most. The unknown is what made him anxious about the whole thing. He had no clue what might come from your lips. “I know it sounds dumb.. but.. I really need a friend right now. My roommate went home and I just..” you trailed off for a moment, seemingly thinking of your next reply. “I know we aren’t friends by any means, but someone to talk to would help me. I have so much on my mind, and I.. I don’t know what else to do.”

A tug formed in his chest at your voice. You sounded like you were in distress over something. It was almost heartbreaking for the man to hear. He knew what the sound of vulnerability was like, and you were almost a perfect image of that. Hanma knew it all too well when he had hit rock bottom several years ago. Being backed into a corner with zero help whatsoever was one of the most draining experiences he had ever had. It was also one of the loneliest and he wouldn’t wish that upon another human being.

Hanma figured he’d do what nobody else did, and he would listen to you. Even if venting to a stranger didn’t do much, you could at least say someone out there sat down and listened to your problems. 

He slowly walked over to the other side of the bench. Despite the temperature of the air being quite warm, he felt a chill from the metal of the seat he was sitting on. Hanma wanted to keep as much distance as possible from you, because he feared the chance of you growing uncomfortable with him being too close. The last thing he’d want is for you to make a dash back to your residence hall to report him for inappropriate behavior. “Go on, I’m listening..” he placed his elbow against the armrest of the bench, placing his full attention onto you. 

Your eyes flickered from the floor to where Hanma was sitting. Not gonna lie, it was kind of nerve wracking to sit next to him. He seemed a little intimidating by his stature and overall nature. Most people would think you’re crazy for sitting on a bench with a random guy you just met in the dark, but you were willing to take your chances. “Um.. this is odd to ask, but what’s your name? I’m (Y/N)..” you figured it wouldn’t be awkward to ask that kind of question, considering he was nice enough to know what you wanted to talk about. 

“Hanma Shuji.. it’s nice to meet you.” he glanced at you briefly, trying his best to make sure you were comfortable with him.

You nodded. His name sounded familiar. You could have sworn there was a classmate of yours that spoke of a Hanma, but you couldn’t exactly place your fingers on it since it was so long ago. “Likewise..” you softly smiled, but that smile soon faded into a frown when your mind reminded you of what had happened to you just a few weeks prior. 

Hanma toyed with the small box of cigarettes in his pocket. He almost wanted to offer you one in case you smoked, but most people denied him that. Not many people were fans of the toxic sticks that caused health issues in human beings. “So.. what’s bothering you? You don’t gotta say all the details.. but I’m more than welcome to listen to you.” he felt somewhat nervous in your presence. Knowing him, he would probably say the wrong thing to you, so he decided to be fragile with whatever words came out after your explanation. 

Silence wrapped around you two. The only sound that could be heard was the soft breeze that danced through the trees around you. 

You had no clue how to begin with your issue. So much had happened in the last few weeks that it completely messed with your head, and your mental health. To be honest, the kind of story you were about to tell could come off as embarrassing. While people validated your emotions constantly and tried to assist with the pain of your breakup, you still found yourself with somber thoughts that never seemed to end. How could they? You were with Draken for a whole year. That’s a lot of time to date and spend with somebody else. All of that time meant nothing after what he did to you just a few weeks after the semester had begun.

You remembered the details fairly well, considering how crazy that night went down.

It was one of the first parties of the semester. You and your friends decided to go with one another as a group. It was supposed to be a night of fun and drinking for your group. Draken had told you he was staying in that night because he had some extra homework assignments to do, and you thought absolutely nothing of that. It wasn’t the first time he had done that. However, if you knew then what you knew now, you would have called Draken on his bullshit. You wished you weren’t such an idiot for believing him that evening. 

Draken had cheated on you that night.

You weren’t sure why or what his reasoning was for cheating on you, but you discovered it because one of your friends had seen a girl leaving his dorm that night. When you confronted your now ex-boyfriend, he denied the entire thing. He said you were being delusional about it, and that’s what angered you the most. You had genuine proof of this interaction and why would a friend of yours lie? You knew better than to believe what Draken was saying to you, and you eventually broke off your relationship. He betrayed your trust and completely ruined you as a person. How could he do this to you? You gave him nothing but clarity throughout your entire relationship, so why couldn’t he do the same for you? 

You turned your body to face Hanma. He was seemingly waiting patiently for you to begin what you wanted to say. It was difficult to explain it without that familiar lump forming in your throat. You were sick of crying about it, but how could you not? He hurt you. “It may sound stupid.. but I was cheated on by my boyfriend.” you finally broke the silence around you. 

Hanma’s blood went cold when those words left your lips. He could hear the heaviness in your voice once again, and it made his stomach twist with guilt. Someone like you? Cheated on? That’s disgusting and absolutely unnecessary. Hanma could say he understood how you were feeling. He had previous relationships with girls who decided to sleep with others because they weren’t satisfied with what Hanma was offering them. He never usually let it get to him, but to anyone else that’s an extremely sickening experience to live through. Nobody deserved to get cheated on. Sure, there may be exceptions, but for no reason? That was ridiculous. If he wanted to cheat, he’d break off his damn relationship before he’d put someone else through that pain.

It also made him somewhat angry. He never felt the greatest vibes from Draken of all people. He assumed this was the exact reason he had been searching for. The guy just seemed to be too nice for Hanma’s liking. Though it was somewhat shocking, he always assumed that your relationship with him was perfect. Draken seemed to be in love with you, but guys like him could switch up anytime they wanted. It was just unfair to you. 

He started searching his mind for a response. He was very curious as to who and if there were other details you’d be willing to share. Hanma wasn’t going to force you of course, but he was itching to know what other information was there. “That’s not a stupid thing.. no one deserves to be cheated on, (Y/N). I could see why you’re upset about that..” he began. “Do you know who it was? Please don’t tell me you stayed with that asshole.” 

You shook your head. Not knowing who it was kept you up at night, but you didn’t even have the desire to figure out that factor. It’d only make that ache in your heart worsen. “N-No.. and personally, I don’t want to know, and I broke it off when I found out. I just.. I don’t get it. I gave everything to him and he just fucked me over..” you could feel tears welling in your eyes, blurring your vision from the stinging sensation. 

Hanma could see the hurt on your features. It only became worse when he saw tears streaming down your cheeks. He felt so so bad for you. Nobody deserved to go through such a heartbreak like that. Sometimes, a relationship coming to an end hurts more than any physical pain. 

He wasn’t sure if there were any words or phrases he could say to fix what happened to you. Well, to be real, there was nothing he could do. Healing from a breakup took time. You had to be patient with yourself and let the pain run its course. Hanma didn’t want to say the wrong thing as well. Your mind was fragile and could break like glass at any wrong movement. He struggled to find some kind of response, but saying absolutely nothing was worse than saying something that wouldn’t patch the wound in your heart. Hanma wasn’t the greatest with advice. Hell, he wasn’t the best man to tell a breakup about, but he knew if it was him he would want somebody else to offer something.

He knew offering pity wasn’t the greatest idea in the world. Some people disliked the idea of “i’m sorry” but it’s all he could come up with. “I’m sorry.. (Y/N). I’m not sure if you’ll ever find out why, but you didn’t deserve that. Your feelings are completely valid, though.” he finally looked at you for the first time since he sat down. 

Feeling embarrassed, you wiped away the stray tears that rolled down your cheeks. You had heard plenty of apologies from not just Draken, but your friends as well. You were used to it by now. You couldn’t get angry with the man in front of you for feeling remorse. Some guys would probably say it’s your fault and that you should forgive Draken, but you were relieved that Hanma actually had a brain unlike some of the other men you’ve spoken to on campus. “It’s fine.. thank you for letting me vent, Hanma.” you tried to force a smile, but it didn’t really last since you were still facing the emotions still.

There was that silence between the two of you again. Hanma wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to say, but he knew it was starting to become late. It had to probably be around nine o’clock now. 

Hanma didn’t want to stand up and just leave you by yourself. He recently recalled that you mentioned your roommate had left for the weekend, so you were alone. There also wasn’t a single soul out on the streets of campus right now, but he knew that the night brought out some strange people. He didn’t want you to walk home by yourself, so he figured he’d offer you something. “Look.. um, it’s getting late and I wanted to ask if you’d want me to accompany you on a walk back to your dorm? Only if you want.. no force.” he was cautious with his words, because he didn’t want to give off the wrong impression.

You chewed on your bottom lip. You were aware of how dark it was outside right now, and there were probably zero people out right now except for those who were going to parties. Hanma seemed to have a nice vibe to him, so you stood up and nodded your head. “Sure.. thank you, Hanma.” you smiled, looking at him.

Hanma sat up and removed himself from the bench. He was much taller compared to you, so you had to kind of look up when he came beside you. Even Draken could be called short next to this guy. “No problem.. lead the way.” he then placed his hands in his pockets, nodding his head forward towards the residence halls that were along the paths.

The two of you then set off away from your original start point. 

You and Hanma were sort of awkward at first. Besides the hidden fact that Hanma knew you, you didn’t seem to know him. He was okay with that, of course. It gave you both the opportunity to ask questions about each other, and that’s exactly what you did. He was a very curious man and you were a curious girl. It was a nice match. You two asked about each other’s hobbies, your majors, what year you were in, and other things of the sort. Hanma was able to learn a lot about you in such little time. He was even able to crack a giggle from you when he responded to one of your questions about his hobbies. It made him smile. You seemed comfortable and less stiff around him, and that’s exactly what he wanted. 

It felt nice getting to know someone all over again. Lately, you had little to no distractions and your mind was full of chaos. Speaking with Hanma and having the chance to hear something from someone else’s perspective gave you that ease you desired for so long. Sure, spreading your business to others may have not been the greatest choice since he was a stranger, but you could care less. Draken was the one who fucked you over at the end of the day.

The two of you both paused when you reached your residence hall. Hanma stood in front of you underneath the awning. The light above you flickered occasionally, showing the bulb’s age. It was just the two of you now. There wasn’t anybody else near the residence hall, except for the people inside. Hanma was sort of bummed to see that this conversation was coming to an end, but all good things must come to a close. The two of you would probably never speak again, and this would just be a distant memory. It was sort of a sour feeling for Hanma, but he was well aware that he could never force something like that between you both. 

You glanced up at Hanma. A smile formed on your features at the sight of the polite man. You were thankful that he didn’t pull anything that might have made you regret walking with him. He genuinely seemed like he had pure intentions. “Thank you.. for walking me back. I appreciate it!” you reached inside your pocket for your keycard that gave you access to your building. 

Hanma nodded. “No problem, (Y/N).”

Once you found your keycard, you weren’t sure why you couldn’t just let Hanma walk away. He had this drawing aura that led you to him for some reason. You started thinking to yourself if what you were about to ask would possibly leave you with regrets, but your friends constantly told you to take risks. It’d be friendly, nothing more than the two of you hanging out with one another. It was also a Friday evening. Your roommate was gone, and it’s not like any of your friends were around to hang out with you. They were probably drinking and getting high at a party at that very second. 

“Wait, Hanma.” 

He paused in his motions when you called out for him again. He turned his body around to face you, and his head cocked to the side. He wondered what you wanted to say to him. Hanma could visibly see the nervousness written on your face. Was he really that intimidating that he made you nervous? In some ways, he understood that. He was taller than most guys in his grade and he often gave people a scare, but he never liked it when it came from people he was associated with. 

You took a deep breath when you noticed his eyes lingering on you. You figured the worst thing Hanma could say was no, so fuck it. “Do you.. do you want to come up to my dorm? I have no one else to talk to.. and I doubt you do either.” you fidgeted with the card between your fingers, feeling somewhat anxious.

It was his turn to be shocked, once again.

Hanma never imagined you would ask him such a question. The two of you barely just met about ten minutes ago, and you were already inviting him up? He had nothing but good intentions with you of course, but still, he could hardly believe that you wanted to hang out with him. Hanma honestly thought you were too good for him. However, your words were very much truthful. He had nothing else better to do tonight. He’d probably go back to his dorm and just smoke until he was tired enough to fall asleep. Maybe hanging out with you would do some good for him.

He then turned and began to walk towards you where you were standing. “Sure, why not?” he shrugged, taking his hands away from his pockets.

You were quite stunned at how quick of a response you received from the man. Though, you were relieved that he didn’t think of you as some weirdo or something. Some people weren’t the nicest when it came to this kind of stuff, so thank god he wasn’t them. “Okay..” you replied, turning to the small lock box next to the large doors.

Reaching over, you pressed your keycard onto the box. You heard a small beep and the doors in front of you clicked, allowing you to open them up. The two of you entered the residence hall and began to make your way to your dorm room. Hanma thought it was quite ironic, because he had been in this dorm hall a few times his sophomore year. He had a fuck buddy he used to hookup with frequently that year. He was a bit surprised to see that you lived on that specific floor, but he was going to keep his mouth shut about it. It was a year ago, and not really his place to share. 

The two of you paused once they reached the door that belonged to you. Hanma eyed the decorations that were scattered along the material of the wood. There were random pieces of construction paper cut into different shapes, or stickers that were a plethora of colors. He thought it was kind of cute. The girls on campus always knew how to properly style their doors. The guys never really participated and thought it was genuinely stupid. Call him corny, but he'd decorate his door if Kisaki was down for it.

You unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing your dorm and items inside of it. “Sorry if it’s messy..” you stepped inside, rearranging a few of the random objects you had on your desk. 

Hanma took a second to scan the room. Your living space was quite nice. There was the occasional random food wrapper on the vanity near your bed, but he didn’t see that as much of a problem. He knew guys on his floor that barely knew how to do their own laundry. Your stuff was all organized and well kept. Hanma was impressed if he was being honest. Your roommate also seemed to keep her side of the room fairly nice as well. Her bed was made and there wasn’t a single thing out of place. Maybe he’d consider living in your dorm for a little while. 

Kidding, but a nice thought.

Hanma watched you plop down on your bed. He wasn’t sure where he could sit, but he figured he’d just stand. He learned a while back that just popping a squat in someone’s home without permission would earn lots of side eyes. He wasn’t trying to invade your space, or act like he had some obligation to live there or something like that. 

“Oh! You can sit here.. don’t worry.” you patted the spot on your bed. It was near the end of the mattress, but Hanma could care less about that. 

Hanma sat down just a few feet in front of you. He was combing his brain to try and find something to talk about. He didn’t want this to be awkward, because to be honest, Hanma never liked the idea of awkwardness. It made him uncomfortable and it was always so embarrassing sometimes. “You got a nice place here..” he complimented, shifting his gaze towards where you were.

Despite it being a small one, you smiled at his nice gesture. You’ve had people in the past comment about your dorm and how it was pretty nice. “Thank you! My roommate and I spent a lot of time working on it together.” you crossed your legs, moving a bit closer towards him.

Hanma stared at you for a brief moment. His eyes took in the sight of your beautiful features. He liked your smile, a lot. He had met plenty of beautiful women in his life. Hell, his own mother was a gem, but you were just so gorgeous. It’s no wonder Hanma was attracted to you the second he laid his eyes on you almost a whole year ago. He just had so many questions for Ken Ryuguji. How could you cheat on a woman like that? He hated to be that guy, but he would never ever cheat on you. Let alone any woman he’d be in a serious relationship with. Being unfaithful was such an ugly quality, and it was always the beautiful down to earth women that had to suffer with those assholes who couldn’t stop themselves. 

Hanma may have had a reputation on campus as a guy who had sex with many girls, but he still had a moral compass unlike some people. He’d never play with someone’s feelings, and he was always one hundred percent with anyone he came across. 

He wasn’t sure what made you do what you did next, but before he knew it, your lips were on his. 

A small, but savory kiss was shared between you both. For a second, Hanma had the urge to grab your jaw and deepen the kiss. Your lips were so smooth and soft. It was almost as if he was kissing a nice piece of jelly candy. He could almost faintly taste the chapstick you wore, and it only made him want to do more. However, despite this trance he may have been in, Hanma came back into reality and realized what was happening. You two shouldn’t have been doing this. 

Hanma pulled away, splitting your lips apart from one another. He quickly averted his gaze onto you. He could see a mix of shame and embarrassment rushing onto your features. He could tell that you probably didn’t want to do that. He wasn’t angry, no, he could never be angry about something as small as a kiss, but he knew this wasn’t right for you. “(Y/N).. we shouldn’t do that. I have nothing against you.. believe me, but you’re going through a really hard time. I don’t want you to have regrets.. and I shouldn’t do anything since you’re in a bad state.” he sounded serious this time. For the first time in his life, he was actually placing someone else before himself. That’s never occurred before. 

You let out a shaky sigh. You knew kissing Hanma was a bad idea the second you leaned in to him, but he was staring at you in such a way that made you feel butterflies. You missed feeling those kinds of emotions around someone else, but he was right. You were in a bad state. You were just cheated on not even a couple weeks ago. 

But, god, you needed a distraction from all of this. You were so fucking tired of thinking about Draken with someone else. It drained you all the time, and all you wanted was a little escape. You knew a simple orgasm wouldn’t make up for the endless amounts of tears you wept for Draken, but it was a start. Maybe not the healthiest option, but it gave you temporary relief from all of the bullshit you’ve had to deal with. You wouldn’t make Hanma have sex with you, and you honestly felt like an idiot for trying to initiate it that way. 

You avoided his gaze as much as you could. You then placed your hand on your temple, pinching it in frustration at how dumb you looked. “I’m sorry.. Hanma.” you shook your head. “I just.. I really want this with you, Hanma. I need a distraction from all of this. I can’t stop thinking about him being with that girl.. it eats me up.” 

Hanma understood completely why you wanted to do that with him. That familiar feeling of guilt plagued his heart once again. He had seen this sight before on many people he knew. Using sex as a coping mechanism to fix your broken heart. For some, it did the magic, but other times it didn’t do anything. It did a lot more damage than any breakup ever could. Hanma couldn’t necessarily relate to that, but he knew it was a personal battle that drained a human being. Seeing you suffer in such a way made him angry, but also sorrowful. 

He knew no amount of words could fix you, but if you wanted to go through with it, he wouldn’t deny you of that. 

Hanma let out air through his mouth. He knew the silence was probably killing you inside, so he figured he’d better say something rather than nothing. He needed confirmation of your thoughts. “Are you sure?” he raised his eyebrows. 

You reached forward to touch one of Hanma’s hands. He was a bit surprised to feel your hand against him. “Yes, please, Hanma.” you replied, sounding confident in your response.

He could hear the sincerity in your voice. That’s exactly what Hanma was searching for in your reply. If you sounded unsettled or unsure, he wouldn’t have trusted your words. He didn’t want you making a decision that you still had zero clarity on. He wanted you to be comfortable. He then thought of another idea to make sure you were at ease. “If you want to stop, tell me.” he then placed your hand on his right shoulder. “Tap me here, twice. We’ll stop this and there will be zero questions asked, got it?” 

You looked briefly at his shoulder, then at Hanma. You nodded your head, understanding what he told you. “Okay,” you responded. 

For a few moments, neither of you were sure who would make a first move. Hanma didn’t want to seem so insistent. He thought that maybe you would take the lead, but considering what happened a few minutes prior, he wasn’t sure that would even happen. He decided to initiate it this time. He did inform you of what you had to do in order for him to stop, so he trusted that you would do so if you were uncomfortable. 

Hanma leaned in, catching your lips onto his own. Those same familiar feelings he had a while ago slowly returned. He felt your lips reciprocating against his own, which was somewhat relieving for him. You liked this. He would be more worried if you were unmoving, but you weren’t. He started to slowly deepen the kiss with his tongue. He swiped his muscle along your bottom lip, allowing you to part your mouth so he could slip into you. Fuck, it was too good. He started moving towards you on the bed, which in turn led you to lying down so he was hovering over your body. The kiss between you stayed connected. You placed your hands on his face, then moved them around his neck. His skin was smooth, there wasn’t a single imperfection on the man above you. 

The hand with ‘Sin’ tattooed on the back began to trail down your side. His fingertips glided and touched at every curvature on your body. He almost groaned from how soft and sweet your skin felt underneath his hands. He could feel all the blood rushing to his cock. It was honestly hard to believe that you were getting him all worked up already, but he didn’t have a single complaint about that. It only made him more excited for what was about to come. 

A small moan left your lips when Hanma’s hand ghosted over your breast. Your nipple hardened immediately from the touch of his hand against the flesh. Your body was heating up. It was almost feverish against Hanma’s colder hands. Is this what you had been missing? The touch of a man? Hanma could care less if calling Draken a boy offended others. No “man” would ever cheat on his girlfriend. 

Hanma lifted his head, disconnecting your lips from one another. Your once smooth lips were now puffy and a little swollen from all of the kissing. They were also glossy from the spit. You had this seductive expression on your face. It made him so hard to see it. He couldn’t help but smirk, but he also had other thoughts. How could Draken ever cheat on such a divine woman such as you? You were like a goddess that Aphrodite herself worked on. He wanted to see every little part of you. He knew that you were beautiful inside and out, that was something he was absolutely sure of. 

His fingers wrapped around the fabric of the loose t-shirt you wore. He shifted his golden eyes towards you. “Can I..?” he questioned, searching your face for any signal of hesitation or fear. 

You felt the brief touch of his fingertips against your navel. You nodded your head, feeling relieved at his care for your comfortability. “Yes..” you lifted yourself up so Hanma could remove your shirt from your body.

Hanma did exactly that. He pulled your shirt over your head and tossed the fabric somewhere onto the floor of your bedroom. Hanma stared in absolute awe at your body. It almost made him blush for a brief second. There wasn’t a single imperfection on you. Your pretty breasts, down to your waist, and the curves of your hips. Everything was so beautiful to Hanma. You were beautiful with clothes on, but without clothes you were stunning. “Pretty..” he leaned towards you again, pecking your lips again.

He started to trail kisses along your jawline, then towards your neck. Hanma could feel your pulse against his lips as he nipped at your flesh. Whimpers slipped from your mouth at the sensation of his warm tongue swiping against your sweet spot. God, those noises made him harder than a rock. He liked every little thing about you. There was so much to like and enjoy. Hanma wished that he had made a move on you first. It’d save you from all of the shit that Draken put you through. Hanma could treat you a million times better than he did. He knew relationships were never on his mind, but he knew regardless of having one he’d do so much more than Draken did.

Hanma then began moving downward towards your chest. His lips left wet kisses along your breasts and in the valley between them. You gasped several times when his tongue would stick out, wetting your flesh. It only encouraged Hanma to keep going. 

He paused when he reached the band of where your shorts were. He looked up at you. Your breathing seemed heavier now and you were watching him with desire in your eyes. “Can I..? I promise to be gentle, baby.” he nodded, raising his eyebrows at you. 

You found a sense of comfort in his sweet tone of voice. His eyes were so genuine. It was like you were almost melting in his hands from how good he made you feel. For so long, you were completely under this impression that there was something wrong with you. Insecurity followed you around like a ghost constantly haunting every single thought you had. Hanma was like the priest, banning the ghost away from you and allowing you to live with ease. It was like a weight was being lifted off of your shoulders. Like you could genuinely breathe again.

However, you grew very shy. This was the first time someone other than Draken was going to see the parts of you that were concealed from others. 

There it was again. Those intrusive thoughts that really brought you back to square one. You didn’t want to believe that Hanma would make you insecure. It wasn’t his fault, but you had a hard time wanting to believe that he genuinely liked what he saw in you. Draken told you so many things that turned out to be fat lies at the end of the day. What if Hanma was going to be exactly like Draken? He could very well be playing this facade. You disliked that thought and it almost made you want to stop. 

Hanma didn’t fail to observe that unsettled expression on your features. It made his stomach twist with nervousness. Had he gone too far this time? He was taking his time with you, or so he thought he was. “Is something wrong..? Do you want to stop..?” he looked at you with concern written on his face. He rubbed small circles on the plush of your thigh to soothe you. 

You bit the inside of your cheek. You grew worried that your words might make you look stupid. “I.. I just feel a little shy..” you looked away for a moment. “I don’t want you to not like what you see.. you know?” 

Christ, Draken really ruined you didn’t he? Hanma could understand that you had your reasons for feeling the way you did. Breakups make people question their self worth all of the time, so it was no wonder you were so nervous to be naked in front of him. Hanma didn’t want for you to feel that way in front of him. He truly saw so much beauty in you that it pained him that you weren’t treated properly. You deserved to have the best treatment from someone. 

He lifted his eyes to look into your anxious ones. He had to reassure you. Hanma didn’t want you to feel scared of him, or to feel nervous at what his opinions may be about your body. “You don’t need to feel that way.. you’re already so beautiful to me, (Y/N).” he kissed at your thighs, causing goosebumps to litter your skin. “We don’t have to continue like this.. I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

You smiled to yourself at his gestures. You felt this sense of comfortability washing over you again. It was a nice feeling. Your chest swelled with warmth swirling around through it. “I-It’s okay.. Hanma. I want to do this with you..” you nodded, reassuringly.

Hanma’s worries were washed away at your confident voice returning once again. He was feeling great, knowing that he was able to relax you properly. He found it quite surprising that a woman like you would feel insecure, but knowing you were in a relationship with tons of invalidation, he knew it was understandable for your feelings to be upside down. “Okay.. I’m going to take these off now, doll.” he hooked his fingers underneath your shorts, along with your underwear. Hanma then began to slowly pull them off of you. They traveled down your thighs, then towards your calves, and lastly your ankles where they slid off nicely.

He felt your body shiver as soon as the rest of your clothes came off. Hanma’s mouth instantly watered at your pretty pussy on display for him. Your cunt was visibly wet, almost soaked. He barely did anything to you and you were already a mess? He was going to have so much fun with you. Your puffy clit was practically calling his name and it made his cock even more hard inside his shorts. 

Hanma opened your thighs just a bit wider. He watched you with lustful eyes to see for any signs of discomfort. When he didn’t see any, he stuck out his tongue and began to drag it along your folds. A whine erupted from your mouth at the contact he made with your pussy. Hanma took that as a sign to continue going, so he started to lap at your slick. The taste was just as divine as you were. He rubbed your pretty thighs while he started to suck and lick at the most sensitive parts of your clit. He could do this for hours if it meant he got to hear you say his name like a prayer. Fuck, he wanted nothing more than this for so long. He was almost like a little kid at a candy store right now. You were so sweet.

He started swirling his tongue over your pearl, earning several loud whines and gasps from your throat. Hanma was so turned on. His cock was painfully aching inside his shorts. It felt like his own boxers were beginning to suffocate him from how hard he was. 

He used the hand with sin on the back to rub small circles on your clit. His thumb moved so slowly, yet it gave you so much pleasure. Hanma smirked to himself at your reactions. The heels of your feet began to dig into his shoulder blades, and you could hardly keep yourself quiet. You were such a fucking sight. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you. There was always something new he discovered, and he couldn’t get enough of you. 

Your fingers laced themselves into his wavy hair, nails digging into his scalp. Hanma’s eyes flashed upwards towards where you were lying down at. Your face was twisted with pleasure. Your mouth was also parted open with such needy cries coming from it. “H-Hanma! Ohh! So good..” you whimpered, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes.

The way his name rolled off your tongue made his cock twitch. He could feel the pre-cum sticking to his boxers. It was taking everything inside of the man to not completely fuck your brains out. He believed a woman like you deserved the princess treatment, but he really wished he could go all out. Maybe some other time, if you were ever open to that. He was just enjoying the pretty little view he had. He could eat your pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You were just too fucking good for him. 

The tip of Hanma’s tongue poked at your entrance, causing you to jolt upwards. He liked that. Your reaction made him smirk as he slurped at your pussy. “Like that, princess..?” he pulled away for a brief second. His voice was quite raspy from how long he had been eating you out. “You taste as good as you look.”

Warmth spread across your cheeks at his comment. You began to giggle at it. It may have sounded corny, but it was probably one of the nicest things you’ve heard in a while. Hanma really knew how to turn your sour mood into a much happier one. He was also very talented with his mouth. It turned you on so much. You didn’t think a simple stranger could do so much for you. “Yes.. I love it, H-Hanma..” you nodded, a smile appearing on your features. 

He chuckled, then returned back to your cunt that was even more messier than before. Hanma took some of the spit inside his mouth and let it coat all over your swollen clit. He loved giving messy head. It was one of his favorite things to do whenever he went down on a girl. You seemed to be enjoying it as well. Your grip on his hair had tightened and your thighs were trembling in his hands. He started running his tongue over your sensitive bud at a vigorous pace. Your head was thrown back in pleasure now, and your breathing became quite rapid from the intensity of his actions.

Hanma kept his hold on your thighs tight as he swirled his tongue. Your voice rang in his ears and he thought it sounded so lovely. He was becoming desperate himself. His cock begged to be freed from his boxers. He had to practically rut his hips into the mattress to feel some sort of relief from the ache. He just couldn’t wait to have himself buried inside of your sweet pussy.

There was a pit forming inside your stomach that was growing larger every minute. Hanma could sense that you were heading towards your climax, but he didn’t want you to fall apart for him just yet. As much as he would have adored seeing such a erotic sight, he wanted you to experience the full thing. He wanted your first orgasm of the evening to come from his cock, not his mouth. He could experience that some other time, but for now, he wanted to take a pause and give you both some of that euphoria you had been desiring the entire night.

Hanma removed his mouth from your soaked pussy. A whine came from your lips at the missing feeling. You wondered what he might have been up to, because it wasn’t fair to you. You were so close. “W-What are you doing..? I was close..” you almost pouted from how upset you were over your denied orgasm. 

He sat up from where he was positioned between your legs. Your slick and a mixture of his spit had covered his chin and his lips. Hanma shifted around so his face was now just a few inches from yours. A sly smirk had written itself on his features. “Because the only place I want you to cum is around my cock, baby..” he then captured your lips within his, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

Hanma then pulled away, untying the loops that held his shorts up. He also took the second to remove his shirt as well. You watched him pull down his shorts, along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, slapping against his abdomen with droplets of pre-cum leaking down his pinky tip. Hanma felt so much relief being out of his boxers for once. He thought he was going to explode if he went any longer. 

Once he was fully undressed, he hovered over you once again. He was a very well built guy. Despite being sort of lanky, he had enough muscle to have you gawk at him. He was handsome, so fucking handsome. 

Hanma realized very quickly that he didn’t have a condom on him. That horror wasn’t great to feel, considering the two of you were just about to get your business started. He figured he’d ask for your permission because he wasn’t the kind of guy to go in raw without the okay from another person. “I don’t have a condom..” he looked down at you. “If you don’t want to.. it’s alright.”

You shook your head, reaching up to cup one of his cheeks. “It’s okay.. I want you, Hanma.” you smiled, reassuringly.

Hanma was relieved to hear such words. He would be okay with either answer you gave, but going home with blue balls would have probably hurt him. He pushed all of those thoughts aside and placed his focus onto you. He positioned the tip of his cock at your entrance. He began to rub himself against your slick. He groaned slightly at the feeling of your pussy gliding against him. You were so fucking wet. He could probably slip inside you with zero effort needed.

He then pushed himself inside your cunt. A sharp gasp filled the air from you as his cockhead split you open. Fuck, he was so big. Hanma groaned from how tight your walls were. You practically sucked him in with such ease that it took almost all of his strength to not start fucking you right then and there. After several seconds, he completely bottomed out. His cock stretched out your pussy to almost its limit. Oh how badly you needed each other. Hanma began searching your expression for possible signs of discomfort or signals that told him to stop, but instead, you were staring at him with these hazy eyes that made his dick twitch. He took that as a sign to move and he began to slowly thrust into you. You were like Heaven itself, so perfect and pretty.

Hanma kept at a leisurely pace. He feared possibly going too quick for your liking, so he wanted to take his time. Besides, he had all of the time in the world to take care of you. He wanted exactly that. He could hardly maintain himself, though. The sight before him was like no other, and your pussy was driving him insane. 

Your moans grew somewhat louder. You lifted your hands away from your chest and placed them on his shoulders. Your touch on his skin made Hanma quicken himself just a bit. It was like silk, so soft and almost addictive. “H-Hanma..! ‘So good.. fuck!” your eyes stared at where his cock was filling you up. It honestly made you even more turned on.

He smirked at your words. Hanma could feel the way your walls fluttered around his cock while you looked at him. He didn’t think he was that much of a turn on for you, but there were no complaints there. “Yeah..? It’s good, princess? We’re just getting started..” he winked, trailing his fingers along your waist.

The pace Hanma was going at was good, but you felt as if you needed more of him. He was sparking so many things inside of you that all you wanted was to burn for him. You needed him. He was by far the best man you had slept with in a long time. In some aspects, you were curious about what else Hanma could do for you. He was experienced, clearly, so what else was he capable of? You wanted to know. “More..!” you gasped, looking at Hanma with desperate eyes. “N-Need more, Hanma..! Please!” 

The word “more” flowed into Hanma’s ears like a nice song he could never get enough of. He was a little taken back at your request. Your voice came off so whiny and full of need that Hanma swore to god he could have cum right then and there from it. He originally wanted to be careful with you. He knew you were fragile, but that idea completely fell out the window at your desire for more from him. Hanma was more than capable of showing you what else had had up his sleeve. He did claim that you were both just getting started here, so why not get things going properly? Who was he to deny such a thing from you? The most pretty girl ever? Heh, he wasn’t going to leave you hanging. 

The hand with ‘Punishment’ tattooed on it went to wrap around your throat. His grip was firm and quite tight. Your cunt lightly squeezed around him. Heh, you were so fucking easy to read. You were a little freak, and he knew that now. Hanma could show you all kinds of things. “Alright, baby.. just hold still and let me do it all for you, okay? I’ll give you it all..” he smooched your lips, then adjusted your legs so they were now around his waist. 

Hanma’s pace quickened, almost relentless against your cunt. Your eyes rolled behind your skull at his assault on your insides. Your body was completely on fire now. There was sweat beginning to form on both of your bodies, giving a small shine to your skin. Nothing else mattered to you right now. You were in complete and utter bliss underneath him. 

He could feel himself getting lost within you. You were so so perfect. He had that thought cross his mind many times that night, and how could he not? It was true. Hanma hadn’t felt something like this in such a long time. Having sex with someone he truly felt connected with was unlike any of the other hookups he had. He vaguely recalled trying to swallow down that envy he felt whenever he saw you with Draken. If he knew then what he knew now, he would have stepped in to warn you. He knew you’d probably never have the heart to believe his words, but if it prevented the heartbreak you had experienced he’d do anything to prevent that. 

The palm that was around your throat squeezed and prevented the flow of blood to continue through to your brain. “You like that, babydoll..? Fuuucckk, yeah, I know you do. Can feel you clenchin’, baby.. you like it when I fuck you? Fuck you better than he ever did, yeah? ‘Gonna make you cream all over this cock.. you want that, princess?” he stared down at you with a smirk.

Your head was dizzy, but you managed to get a nod as a response. Hanma released his hold on your throat, which allowed that hazy feeling to disappear from your brain. He loved seeing you in such a state. “Mmm, Hanma.. need you..” you whimpered, reaching forward to wrap your arms around his own neck. “F-Fuck me good.. please..”

Hanma loved hearing the desperation in your sweet voice. He could listen to it for hours and never get bored of it. He’d grant you every desire you may have. He didn’t care about the cost. You deserved the world and he’d be the one to give you it. Hell, he’d give you a part of his own to make up for the one you lost due to that asshole. He would make you forget about him. He didn’t deserve you in the first place. 

Using sin, Hanma used the pad of his thumb to rub small circles on your puffy clit. Bolts of electricity danced along your belly from the increased pleasure he applied to your cunt. There was so much going on around you. You could hardly handle it. Hanma switched his angle and began to thrust into you at that same quick pace. However, this time, he was able to find that spot inside you that made your vision fill with white stars. Your cries were much louder this time and you couldn’t help but tremble at his actions. Hanma quickly picked up on your behavior. He grinned to himself knowing that he found the button he had been searching for all evening. He continued fucking it and kissing it with the tip of his cock. You were on cloud nine. Every time he hit it, you were almost on the verge of tears. He was too good.

He smirked at the faces you made. Your jaw went slack and those gorgeous eyes of yours were cloudy. You were almost completely fucked out by his cock. “Look at you.. – shit – lookin’ so pretty while taking my cock..” he cooed, his tone smooth like honey. “So perfect.. so good, doll.”

The familiar knot inside your belly began to tighten and make itself known with each rut of Hanma’s hips. Your pussy was fluttering and tightening around his dick. Hanma knew you were close. He was beginning to get excited at the thought of your cunt making a nice mess around him. With each thrust, your pussy squelched and made all kinds of delicious noises that made him only want to increase the pace he set himself at. He wanted to give you the best orgasm you’ve ever had. He desired to be so much better than your fuckhead ex-boyfriend. 

Hanma placed his hand on your chin, forcing you to look up at him. He gritted his teeth as he pounded into your hole. Your moans were almost like screams now from how loud your voice had become. “You gonna cum? Yeah – jesus – fuck! Gonna make you cum for every time he broke your pretty little heart, babydoll.” he started grunting when he realized you finally reached your high. Your walls spasmed around his cock, creaming and leaving a nice ring around the base. Your body was trembling and shaking and all you could call out was his name. “Yeah.. that’s my girl.. good girl, (Y/N)..”

You looked at Hanma through your eyelashes. Your body was completely going through such great ecstasy. You hadn’t expected your high to ripple through you so hard, but he just fucked you so good it was no shocker. “Y-Your girl, Hanma! All yours..!” you blubbered, digging your fingernails into the flesh of his shoulder blades.

Hanma couldn’t help but bear a smile at those words. You were so right about that. You were his now. He wasn’t going to let anybody else hurt you, especially Draken of all people. He was going to absolutely make sure of that from here on out. “Yeah.. that’s right, princess. You’re my good girl..” he glanced downward for a brief moment to watch his cock slip inside you. 

His own orgasm was upon him as well. His cock was twitching and his groans had become much deeper than they did before. The hold he had on your body was tightening. He didn’t want to let go of you. Hanma had the urge to fill you up. He wanted to know if that was something you’d be into. He wouldn’t care if you weren’t, but fuck, filling that pretty cunt to the brim with his cum sent him into overdrive. It only turned him on more when he thought about it seeping out of your little hole. His cum, nobody else’s. He could even massage it back into you so it stayed nice and warm inside your womb. 

Hanma peered down at you. Your eyes were still fixated on him hovering right above you. “Where do you want my cum, baby? Tell me..” he leaned down towards your ear, nibbling on the shell of it.

His words processed through you and you wondered what was the best option. Not gonna lie, you were in the mood to have some more fun, so you figured you’d give him that opportunity to let him breed you. It’d only happen this once, and you were on the pill anyway. “I-Inside me, Hanma..” you whined. “Cum inside me, please.. please..!”

You were so fucking nasty, but he loved it. Your voice begging for his cum was enough for him to start fucking you with that vigorous pace once again. “Fuck.. gonna fill you so good, baby. Don’t you worry about – fuck – a single thing.. you’ll be full..” he pried your thighs apart to have an even greater access to your pussy. 

With one final thrust, Hanma’s cock twitched and his balls tightened up inside you. A groan rumbled in his throat from the effects of his climax washing over him. Thick and hot ropes of his cum began to paint your velvet-like walls, seeping into your womb. He gritted his teeth at the sensation of his high. You let out a few small whimpers when you felt that warmth spreading across your belly. It was so nice. 

Hanma panted. A few strands of his black and blonde hair clung to his forehead from the sweat that had formed on his skin. There was a light pink flush on the apples of his cheeks. The room’s temperature had gradually increased, which was expected. He was feeling the post orgasm effects. Despite that, he didn’t have a single regret about the activities you engaged in that evening. He was proud of you. He hoped that maybe your mind would be taken off your situation for just a little while. It may have been temporary, but it was nice to get away from it all for just a small amount of time.

Your thighs relaxed around him, letting your feet fall flat against your bed. Hanma was still buried inside you, making sure that his cum didn’t leak out and cause a mess on your sheets. He leaned down to your face and pressed a gentle kiss on your lips. The kiss made your cheeks burn, but you gladly put your hands on his face. Your thumbs brushed against his warm skin that was still a baby pink. It was sweet. It made your heart jump for joy. 

Hanma abandoned your lips for a brief moment to stare into your eyes. Your noses touched and your lips were now just inches apart from one another. “You feeling alright, doll?” he breathed against your mouth, his breath tickling your skin underneath it.

You shook your head, brushing a few of the hair follicles away from his eyes. He was so much more ethereal up close like this. His golden eyes that mirrored a sunset were too pretty to look away from. “Yes.. thank you, Hanma.” you smiled, pressing your lips against his once again. This time it was just a small peck. 

Hanma questioned if he should stay with you that night. He wasn’t sure if your intentions were to have him sleep there. Staying for the evening would possibly cause attachments, and Hanma didn’t usually indulge in that. It was always wrong to stay and cuddle up with somebody you had zero intentions of being with. However, Hanma felt as if he could do that for you. “Do you.. want me to stay? No pressure.. I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable..” his eyes flickered from your neck to your face. 

His words stunned you a bit. Usually, hookups never really stuck around and they dipped after having sex like this. Though, Hanma was gracing you with an offer. Maybe this once. “Just once.. I don’t want to be alone tonight..” you felt embarrassed with your reply, but it was true. You didn’t want to be by yourself. 

He chuckled, kissing your lips again. “Fine with me, babydoll.” he then lied down beside you, pulling out in the process. 

Hanma placed one of his large hands around your waist, bringing your body close to his. Your chests were now pressed together and your head was tucked underneath his neck. He smelled good, despite just having sex with you a few minutes prior. Your heart relaxed and you began to find comfort in him. He was someone you wanted to see again. It didn’t matter if it was just a hookup or as his friend. There was something that drew you to Hanma Shuji, and you just couldn’t put your finger onto what that exact thing could be. 

He was like a bright flame, burning in the middle of the night. You were the moth fluttering around that flame, endlessly. 

“Thank you.. for helping me.” you spoke into the silence, not looking up at him.

Hanma’s chin rested on the top of your head. He was just doing what he felt was right. He knew you needed that distraction, and he was happy to be it. “No problem..” he began to play with the strands of your hair with his fingers.

You smiled to yourself, melting into his embrace. You hoped you would see more of Hanma Shuji in the future.

[glazedsnail]

Gus Invests in a Karaoke Machine

I woke up this morning and thought this very normal thought:

What song would the bachelor.ette.s sing at karaoke?

Not what they like to listen to, not what they'd want to sing in any normal state.

What they would belt out with a buzzed heart.

So here we go:

Harvey -

And he's absolutely CRUSHING it, everyone in the saloon is floored by how Harvey chanel his best Tim Curry. They're stuck to his lips for every notes with antici... ...pation.

He even shakes his hips, straighten his leg, put on the greatest show. Walk over the patrons, flick their chins, he's not much of a man by the light of day, but by night... Oh yeah. Even grabs Shane's pint in the process, sits on the counter to drink off it. How 'bout that?

Unfortunately he doesn't remember much the next day and wonders why people started calling him Dr Frank-N-Furter for a while.

Elliott -

Starts with a whisper from the heart, making the townspeople think aww he so shy, but then he just FLIES and SWINGS from the chandelier. He IS the bird, he IS free, and he clearly doesnt care if he sings off key.

Beating to the sound of his own untuned drum.

There's a lot of hair flip, and the scream inside that he was hiding FLIES OUT.

His throat hurts the next morning, but he sings for love ♥

Shane -

He wasn't going to partake, but when he heard the few notes from the song coming on as Gus put the machine on Shuffle he simply HAS to grab the mic and DESTROYS it with all his heart.

Oh so you think you got him figured out? THE SEASON'S CHANGING BITCH. Don't you try to save him. He's your HELL he's your DREAM.

The saloon is stunned. He doesn't sing well (like, at all) but damn his heart and soul ARE in it, and it shows. When he's done they're all a bit lost but damn the applauses come soon enough.

He forgets all about it each time.

We wouldn't want him any other way.

Sam -

He tries to pull Seb in, he wants to get Seb to sing with him. He wants to sing Kiki Dee's part solely but he ends up singing both, weirdly harmonizing with himself?? Like it's almost spooky how good he switches from one voice to the other.

A lot of ooh-hoo ooh-hoo but damn this man has a built-in pitch checker, each notes is hit with the precision of an opera singer. He puts the light in your life.

The song ends but he continues with an endless loop of:

Don't go breaking my / Don't go breaking my / Don't go breaking my / Don't go breaking my (please someone take the mic from him)/ Don't go breaking my/ Don't go breaking my...

Sebastian is almost sad he didn't get to sing with him after all but they make it a point to sing it every Karaoke night from now on (and they're perfect, everyone comes in just cause they know this will happen.)

Seb -

Are you a man? Cause I'm a biitcchhhhhhhhh.

Everyone is taken aback, flummoxed, even. How does Sebastian move that way? Who taught him? How flexible is this man? With all due respect, everyone's in heat?? I mean look at him. Rev his engine til you make it purr??

Robin and Demetrius are a bit....puzzled but, man, look at the way he moves. Don't try to give him shit he earned the right to be like this...

Get in loser for the...JOYRIDE micdrop

Immediately acts like absolutely nothing happened. Everybody else follows.

Alex -

Lots of pouting and squinting, finger pointing and shuffling. Each time poiting to a different person, making their heart flutter for a bit.

TELL ME WHY - and everyone else joins in.

He's the bad boy of the backstreet, he is your fire, your one desire. His hands on his body, a lot, A LOT. Is he singing to himself?! That's a lot of body touching...Alex calm down. Pull your shirt down.

His shirt is on the floor by the end of the song, and grabs it to wipes himself with it like he's James Brown. He's having fun and is that not what karaoke's about?

🎶🧑‍🎤🎶🧑‍🎤🎶🧑‍🎤🎶🧑‍🎤🎶🧑‍🎤🎶🧑‍🎤🎶🧑‍🎤🎶🧑‍🎤🎶

I'll do bachelorettes next.

[prettyboyformasks]

i need trans Gaz, anything please!!! Maybe having him cuddling in bed while you finger him. Just some fluffy stuff with praise and love. Thank you 😊

gaz is such a sweetheart. cuddling you every night and morning, helping you do chores around the house, cooking for you.

so why not return the favour?

as gaz climbs into bed with you, ready to cuddle, you surprise him by pulling his body on top of yours. this earns a little giggle from him.

"what're you doin'?" gaz asks with a quirked brow, his hands on your chest. god, his hands are so soft. always feel so fucking good around your cock. "just showing you how much i appreciate you, pretty," you whisper, your hands sliding into his boxers. you push gaz to lay down on the bed, noticing the way his thick thighs bulge ever so slightly where the boxers hug them, and you can't help but lean forward to pepper kisses all over his beautiful, brown skin.

gaz shifts slightly, moving to get comfortable, but begins to whine. "i wanna cuddle, want you to hold me," he whispers, laying next to you. you agree, of course—you'd never deny gaz of his wants, not when he's so sweet to you.

however, while you're cuddling, you can't help but notice the way gaz rubs his cunt against your thigh. "you need something, puppy?" you ask quietly, your voice a low grumble. he's such a tease.

after a moment with no response, you look down at him to find his fingers in his mouth. a cute sight, it is. pretty boy's got his mouth stuffed with his pretty little fingers to muffle his pretty little noises. can't have that, can you? no, you've got to hear him. got to hear what he wants, what he needs.

"words, pretty boy." you whisper as you pull gaz's fingers out of his mouth, kissing his plump lips softly. "you, need you," he whispers breathlessly, his wet fingers moving to rub his cunt.

you chuckle at the sight—it's adorable, really. how quickly gaz's moods change, from wanting cuddles to wanting your fingers inside of him. of course, you have no complaints—you're quite lucky to be able to have such a pretty boyfriend.

your long fingers tap at gaz's soft lips, requesting entry. he obeys, as usual, and begins sucking on your fingers. "that's it, attaboy," you praise, moving your fingers in and out of his mouth. when he starts to beg and babble around your fingers, you finally pull them out.

you take a quick moment to strip him of his boxers, admiring his cunt. he hasn't shaved, but with the way his pubes curl so prettily around his soft lips, it's worth getting a hair or two stuck in your teeth (snack for later). you poke at his entrance, cooing at the way he bucks his hips into your touch. "you like that, baby? yeah?" you whisper, kissing his inner thighs. "so pretty for me, baby, so good for me," you praise as you slowly push your fingers inside, the heat of his warm cunt around your fingers nearly making you moan.

as gaz squirms beneath you, begging for you to push your fingers deeper, you look up to admire him. his big, brown eyes full of pleasure and desire. he's so beautiful. only when his cunt flutters around your digits do you snap back into the moment, giving gaz what he wants.

you bury your fingers in his cunt, poking at his cervix. judging by the way gaz's back arches and his voice goes up a few pitches, you can tell he likes it.

shifting to lay beside him rather than between his legs, you pull your fingers out for a moment to rub his clit in soothing circles. "shh, pretty boy. i've got'cha. taking my fingers real deep, yeah?" you murmur, plunging your fingers into his wet heat once more.

this earns a loud moan from gaz, his arms wrapping around you. all he wants is to be close to you—how sweet. you rub his back, kissing the top of his head as your fingers slide in and out of his cunt. "there we go.. just like that, baby," you coo, curling your fingers against his sweet spot. gaz's nails dig into your back as he grinds down on your fingers, whimpering. "please, gonna cum, please," he begs you, his thighs shaking.

you thrust your fingers harder and harder inside of him, earning soft "ah, ah, ahs" from gaz. when he finally cums, he shakes as he holds you tightly, burying his face in your neck.

the two of you stay like that for a long while. you praise him while he catches his breath, holding onto you. "shh, you did so good, pretty. took my fingers like a good boy. so proud of you." you murmur, kissing his temple.

[luckybunny555]

Mr. Stacy? Nice to meet you!

Gwen takes you to her apartment after swinging through her city with you, but she didn't expect her dad to be home so early

Gwen Stacy x GN!Spider!reader

A/N: this is my "personal lore"(lol) but I consider that reader let Gwen stay over in their universe/home whenever she needed a place to stay at, and this is mentioned at some point here.

You never got tired of watching Gwen swinging across her city, no matter how many times you witnessed it. The beauty of her own universe, and how she seemed so at home, fitting so well in her place but standing out from the rest at the same time. It felt good to know she was finally comfortable at home again.

You had been there for her after everything went wrong with her dad. A while after meeting her at the Spider Society, you had finally earned her trust, and she felt secure enough to tell you about everything: the people she had lost, the uncertainties she was facing, the fear of losing her dad... It broke your heart to know everything she was going through, and because you cared so much about the girl who was finally letting her walls down for you, you stuck by her side through everything. Good and bad moments, you were always there for her. Because you loved her. So seeing her finally feeling free and at home in her universe was like slipping under your blankets after a cold day.

You hadn't visited her city yet, not even after things eventually worked out between Gwen and her dad. So right now, you were fascinated by her world, how the colors seemed to bring a special and beautiful emphasis to everything. To her, especially. And with the way your gaze wouldn't leave her for a single moment, you could notice your surroundings fading into a watercolor blur, Gwen being the heart of this art piece that you were witnessing in that moment. No painting could be more beautiful and lovely than the girl in a Spider-Suit that was swinging in her webs a few feet in front of you.

With the gradual development of your connection, Gwen's desire to introduce you to her world grew bigger. Not only to her universe, but to everything that was a part of her life. She caught herself wishing that you'd leave a part of yourself in everything that was hers, always lingering in her life. She wanted your smell on her clothes, your laughter filling her bedroom, your initials on the pages of her notebooks, your pictures on her wall, your sleepy voice staining her mornings when you'd wake up in her bed, right beside her.

She wasn't going to lie to herself: having you in her universe, her world, was a big deal. For so long, she hadn't allowed herself to get close to anyone because the possibility of losing them would be too painful to bear. But you, as sweet and loving as you were, seemed to have some sort of magnetic aura that was irresistible to her. Truth is, she didn't want to resist you, even when her mind reminded her of all the terrible things that could happen. You were too good to miss. And you had always made an effort to maintain your friendship because you wanted to be around her just as bad as she did. Long story short, your effort and love made it almost impossible for her mind to convince her to stay away from you.

So, even though she was a bit nervous about it, her faith and excitement about you washed away the doubts she had about past events repeating themselves with you. For the first time in a really long time, she was happy to let someone in. She wanted you to be close to her, in every single way. Having you in her universe was special to her. She wanted you to stay forever right there with her, even though she knew you couldn't abandon your own universe. The best she could do was convince you to stay just a little longer, more and more every time.

Although Gwen wanted to take it easy on her "Spider-woman duties" that day to fully enjoy your company, the city didn't seem to get the memo. Every once in a while, you two had to take a few moments to help the civilians and stop robberies. But even then, you seemed to enjoy witnessing each other's performances against crime, complimenting your abilities and skills with genuine admiration. You couldn't ignore how much you loved her graceful moves and sarcastic jokes, both signature traits of hers.

As the sun was just starting to set, Gwen convinced you to come over to her apartment, attempting to keep you with her for as long as she could. And how could you refuse? Every word that comes out of her lips gives you a warm feeling, and when her hand brushes against yours, tugging on them to lead the way, you find yourself willing to follow her without caring about the destination.

The two of you stopped by a convenience store near her place, Gwen insisting that you'd choose anything you were craving. She thought she could win you over with snacks so maybe you'd stay longer, oblivious to the fact that all it would take was a simple "please, stay with me" and you would not be able to say 'no' to her. You never were.

She lovingly admired you as your eyes widened through your mask, excitedly picking a bunch of snacks for the both of you to share later. Her heart fluttered when she noticed you picking her favorite chips and drink, appreciating how attentive and thoughtful you always were. She felt so lucky to be loved by you, with all your sweetness. And to add to her luck, the cashier was kind enough to only charge part of the price for all your snacks and drinks, as a 'thank you' to the friendly neighborhood Spider-woman and her lovely Spider companion.

Leaving the store, she finally led you to her apartment, climbing on the wall. You followed her as she opened the window to her bedroom, holding out her hand to help you in, the grocery bag on her other hand. While the two of you shared your thoughts on today's hang out, your laughter filled the space, and she softly chuckled at her secret wish-come-true. Taking off your masks, the two of you stood by the window, your eyes studying the room while her admiring gaze was focused on you. You loved the intimacy of bedrooms, that give away the tiny details about someone, but only to those with attentive and caring eyes. It felt like entering her world all over again, taking in the new yet familiar atmosphere, simply a reflection of the girl. The simple fact that you were standing right there was a manifestation of her trust for you. Gwen wanted you to see her, all of her.

Your hands were still connected when your gazes met, giggles escaping your lips as you continued the topic. "Oh, I felt so bad for accidentally scaring that old lady," your hands cover your lips, trying to hold back your laughter. "I couldn't even warn her in time, I just swung past her and took her away from the fight! The poor woman was–"

Hearing all the noise coming from his daughter's bedroom, not expecting Gwen to be home, George Stacy makes his way towards the door, slowly opening it. Both you and Gwen sensed his presence right before he entered the bedroom, freezing for a moment as he stood by the doorframe, gaze fixed on the two of you.

"Gwen," he says, his voice giving away his surprise at seeing her home, along with you. Everything seems to pause for a moment, silence filling the room as none of you seem to be certain about your next steps. Although you were taken by surprise, you quickly came to your senses, deciding to politely introduce yourself to make a good impression on your girlfriend's dad.

"Mr. Stacy, hi! Nice to meet ya, I'm–" you start, taking a few steps towards him and holding out your hand for a polite handshake. You try your best to hide how nervous you actually are.

"[name], I assume," he chuckles with an amused smirk on his face, shaking your hand. "Gwen has told me a lot about you," he looks at her, chuckling.

You turn to face her, imagining the blush that must be on her face, unable to actually see it due to the low lighting in the room. "Aw, you talk about me?" you tease her, but your tone gives away your fondness for her action, a soft smile appearing on your face.

George notices Gwen's silence, still processing the unexpected event, along with your teasing. "Oh, she does. I was wondering when I would get to meet this intriguing Spider-Person who won my daughter's heart," he replies, his words bringing a genuine smile to your face. Despite his teasing tone, he was actually delighted to finally meet you. He had noticed Gwen's shy and loving smiles whenever she mentioned you, how she'd quietly chuckle or blush whenever she was texting you, how her voice turned softer when she'd talk to you through her watch. After witnessing his daughter's difficult moments and being away from her for so long, his heart grew warm with appreciation, thankful that she had finally found love, soft and sweet like a marshmallow.

"Ah, okay dad, that's enough," Gwen finally intervened, noticing how warm her cheeks were, causing both you and her dad to chuckle. You lean back on the wall near George, the two of you observing her as she placed the grocery bag on her bed. His gaze traveled through her room, noticing how disorganized she left it, even though he was used to her messy nature.

"Gwen, if you're going to bring your partner over, you should at least organize your room," he playfully scolded her, earning a chuckle from you. She muttered a 'right' before pacing around her bedroom, starting to gather all the clothes and items that were scattered around.

"Wow, even after I lectured you about leaving your stuff lying around in my apartment, it seems like you still haven't learned your lesson," you tease her again, shaking your head as you chuckle. Mr. Stacy's eyes widen at your words, his lips slightly parting in shock.

"You left your mess around their place?" he asked her, astonished by her behavior, making you laugh even more. Of course, he didn't know you don't mind it. In fact, neither of them knew how much you actually liked to see Gwen's possessions in your home, reminding you of her constant presence in your world, even when she wasn't there in person. That was one of the things you liked about her, always absentmindedly leaving a bit of herself wherever she goes. Something the two of you shared and liked about each other, although expressed in your own unique ways. Gwen, obviously through her mess.

She stuttered, trying to find an excuse or an apology, but failed to do so. It was obvious that she was grateful for your kindness and support, always wanting to help you out in return, despite your constant reassurance that there was nothing she had to give you in return, your actions only reflecting how much you cared for her. But you made her feel so comfortable and relaxed that her disorganized nature ended up shining through. To you, it was like an accomplishment, getting her to naturally be herself around you, no walls nor facades.

"If every interaction between you two will lead to teasing me, I'm gonna have to keep you apart as much as possible," Gwen said, glaring at the both of you with narrowed eyes as she folded her clothes. You and George couldn't hold back your amused chuckles.

"Alright, alright," he put his hands up in defense, "just don't forget your manners next time". His attention turned to you as Gwen continued to organize her bedroom, "well, Gwen mentioned you two met at that... Spider‐Person community, right? How is that working out for you?" he asked you, trying to get to know you better.

You nod, "Oh, yeah, we met at the Spider Society," you explain, giggling politely at his confusion about the name. "Eh, you know, Spider business aren't very easy, between keeping your own city safe and having to save the multiverse every once in a while," you let out a nervous chuckle, "but it's definitely worth it, doing our best to protect our people," your eyes shift to Gwen, observing her with fondness. Mr. Stacy follows your gaze, softly smiling as he notices the way you look at her.

Returning your focus to him, you add, "Oh, and don't worry, sir, I always make sure to keep Gwen safe during missions," you softly smile, reassuring him as you demonstrate how much you really care about her. He seems to appreciate your gesture, offering you a genuine smile as a silent 'thank you'. Still listening to your conversation, Gwen playfully scoffs, stopping pacing around her room for a moment.

"You? Oh, okay, sure," she laughs, "It's more like the other way around most of the time," seems like it's her turn to tease you. She's not entirely wrong, considering your clumsiness occasionally causing you to hurt yourself during missions. Or in your daily life, too. Your jaw drops slightly as you let out a scoff mixed with a chuckle, furrowing your brows.

"Hey! Shh, I'm trying to make a good impression here," you say, earning a laugh from Gwen's dad as he shakes his head in amusement. "Besides, you never got super hurt, so technically, I do keep you safe," you add, matter-of-factly.

She turns to look at you, narrowing her eyes but the smile on her face betraying the rest of her expression. "Maybe I'm just better at keeping myself unharmed," she teases you, like she always loves to do. You shake your head and laugh. "But I will give you some points for patching me up with your cute band-aids after fights," she adds, compensating for her teasing with a playful but genuine comment.

"Thank you," you respond with a proud smile and giggles. She couldn't help but admire you, her love for you evident in her eyes. And George, still observing the interaction, was amazed by your dynamic. He couldn't recall the last time he saw his daughter this open and relaxed, and the look on her face whenever she looked at you was certainly uncommon. It's safe to say you have earned his approval, and perhaps even more: his fondness.

"Are you staying for dinner, [name]?" He asks you, sounding like an invitation. Your lips parted to reply, but you hadn't even thought about your answer. Your plans were to just spend half an hour longer with Gwen before heading back to your universe to watch over your city, until this encounter changed the course of your day. You consider his offer for a moment, unsure about spending even more time away from your city, pushing aside your own wish to stay here forever. But when your gaze turns to Gwen, any doubt you had simply dissolved like cotton candy in your mouth.

You knew you couldn't resist the way she looked at you. The soft smile on her face and her pretty, pretty eyes observing you expectantly were enough to convince you to stay for as long as she'd ask you to. It didn't matter how long you two were together, your heart would always skip a beat whenever she'd give you that look. So, still looking at her, your lips closed for a moment, letting out a soft chuckle. "I would love to, if that's okay," you smile sweetly, slowly turning your gaze to the man next to you.

When you answered, Gwen's smile widened, making you melt at the sight of her adorable tooth gap. You started to wonder whether you were actually human or ice cream, considering how often you melted for her. Your smile matched hers, and you tilted your head to rest against the wall, never getting tired of admiring your girlfriend. In her world, somehow even more than usual, she looked like pure art.

Seeming pleased, George nods at your answer, smiling as he walks away from the bedroom, leaving the two of you alone again. You slowly walk over to Gwen, who was leaning against her dresser. Standing in front of her, your arms naturally wrap around her shoulders, and you feel your heart flutter in your chest at the contact of your bodies. Her hands travel from your hips to your lower back, pressing tenderly to bring you even closer.

From up close, even in a dimly lit setting, you could almost see all of the features you loved on her. Her pretty freckles, the shape of her lips, the color of her eyes, her lashes, her eyebrow piercing... you could spend forever naming every single detail you loved about her, from inside and out. Even though you enjoyed her sarcastic and cool demeanor that always amused you, you simply loved how her expression seemed to soften at your sight. How lucky you felt to be the reason why this blonde would relax in your presence, so comforted by your love.

"I can't believe you keep convincing me to stay longer and longer," you tell her, the smile on your face giving away how much you were enjoying being right there with her, feeling her body softly pressed against yours. "What's next, are you gonna kidnap me so I stay forever with you?" you tease her, in an already failed attempt to hide how much you actually wanted to never leave her side.

"Oh, I don't think I even have to," she replies with a smug smirk, a proud expression imprinted on her face. Her thumbs gently caressed your waist, making your body relax even further. "I bet I can get you to stay forever willingly, I don't even gotta force you." Damn it, her tone gave away how she had you figured out. But the look in her eyes showed some sort of relief at the knowledge that you wanted this as much as she did. She felt so grateful that, without even having to try, she would have you by her side willingly.

"Damn, was it that obvious?" you playfully roll your eyes, softly giggling. Your faces were so close, she could feel you breath blowing against her skin. Everything between the two of you seemed to be enhanced, and she reveled at the heightened awareness of your presence. You were heaven for her, bringing up wonderful new feelings she hadn't even considered possible before.

Your question made her chuckle softly, the sound awakening the butterflies that seemed to live in your stomach ever since you met her. You had started loving this feeling the moment it was associated with her. Her eyebrows relaxed as she kept her gaze on you, her face still soft but slightly serious, expressing honesty and vulnerability. "I'm glad you're staying," she whispered, her eyes wandering to your lips for a moment as her fingertips traced patterns on your lower back.

Her tender touch, even through the fabric of your spider-suit, felt so loving and intimate. To hide your lovefool smile, you pepper her face with kisses, like a sweet attack. But when she laughs, you pull back to not miss the sight of her smile, that matches yours. "Me too," you reply, gazing into her eyes. "So, d'you think I made a good impression? Or was it obvious that my heart was absolutely pounding in my chest?"

She wraps her arms tighter around you, planting a quick peck on your lips before answering, "You did great, trust me. Better than I did when meeting Miles' parents, do you remember that?" You giggle at her embarrassed smile, recalling the memory.

"Oh, yeah, that was painful to watch," you tease her, causing the both of you to burst into laughter. You were grateful for these light-hearted, silly moments between the two of you, giggling like stupid, but totally in love teenagers.

Once you two calm down, her gaze meets yours again. "I already put in a good word for you, and judging by today's interaction, I'm pretty sure he loves you already," she assures you, calming your nerves as she brushes away a strand of your hair behind your ear. "He even invited you for dinner," she adds with a playful smile, "I'd say I'm not the only one who wants you around for a little longer."

"Oh, you're making it so hard to remember I have a whole city to look after and that I can't stay in your universe forever," your dramatic exaggeration of your words earn a loving chuckle from her. "Seriously, don't let me stay forever. I have many fans that need protection and autographs, alright?" You joke with a wide smile on your face.

"Didn't you tell my dad you had to keep me safe or something like that?" She teases you, looking up pretending to recall the conversation from just a few minutes ago. You can't help but chuckle at her playful attempt to convince you once again to stay longer with her, jokingly slapping her arm.

Despite not lasting forever, time seemed to kindly grant you a wish as it appeared to slow down that evening. As you all ate dinner, you and George shared loving(and a few embarrassing) memories involving Gwen, who couldn't handle any more teasing coming from the both of you, despite secretly enjoying your interaction the whole time. She was glad to witness it, grateful that the two of you got along well. Gwen ended up noticing that, little by little, the loneliness that followed her around for so long was starting to fade away. Your warm presence in her life was like a sun that illuminated everything, filling her with love. And now, she was able to be present with two of the people she loved the most, and she was sure that they loved her back.

Before you went back to your universe, you and Gwen took a few minutes to watch a movie and eat the sweet snacks you had previously bought together. As the sky turned darker, you found comfort in your girlfriend's arms, that were lovingly wrapped around you while the two of you sat on the couch with a blanket over your legs. And even after you returned to your own universe, neither of you could stop smiling at the thoughts and memories of each other, cherishing every moment you spent together. You couldn't wait for the next time you'd spend another day with Gwen, as you found yourself loving to see more and more of her and her life.

[granolawriting]

"To make you forget."ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

pairing: no breakout!Joel x fem reader

Summary: The day after having your long term boyfriend put an end to your relationship, you find yourself in a complicated relationship with Joel, a friends family friend. He invites you out for a drink after a shotty first impression, and the rest is history. sequel to a change in fate

Content warning: 18+ NSFW, age gap, you're 21 and Joel is mid 30s to early 40s. Enemies to lovers, unprotected piv, praise kink, strong Joel carries you multiple places, pet names (princess, darling, doll, sweetheart), oral (f!receiving), fucking in his clothes, drinking, drunk secret kisses, sleepy kisses, aftercare, spooning.

word count: 5.2k

A/N: Thank you for all the love on the last one <33 please send me requests if you have any idea for what I could write next! enjoy ;)

“No. Fucking. Way.” 

… … … 

You sit across from your friend once more at the same table that held a much more, comfortable conversation the night prior. Eyes catch hers, and an agape mouth is what greets the information just relayed to her over morning coffee.

“No, no okay I must be thinking of the wrong one.” 

“Your dad only has one friend named Joel I thin-” 

“I KNOW!!!” 

… 

“It’s just. I’ve known him since I was a little girl. It's just a little, crazy, is all, that you’re now going on a date with him.” 

“It's not a date-” 

“It so is.” 

You scoff at her implication. 

“You know, there's a thing called ‘southern hospitality’. And he's not wrong about me needing a drink after everything I’ve been through. Maybe he's just good at reading people, trying to get back on how he treated me the other night now that I’m someone he has to be nice to.” 

Your friend purses her lips, trying to think of a counter but coming up short. You were right, there wasn't anything inherently odd about going out for drinks with someone. Especially when you’ve earned it. 

“Though I can't deny, he is kind of cute. For an old guy.” 

And the tower comes crumbling down. 

At the sound of your confession your friend goes into a fit, a groan followed by very exaggerated, nonexistent tears that whine into the floor that her head now faces along the lines of complaint of his age, and the jeans that predate your birth. 

your hand touches her hair, stroking it as to try and ease her out of some melodramatic stupor, telling her that it'dve been bound to happen the moment she tried to push her old guy agenda on you. Kindly telling her that perhaps, she's just a little upset you got one before her. In the process however, admitting that a part of you feels as if you’ve got him-- but pay that no mind of course. It's purely for the joke, to antagonize her. There's no means for you to feel as though you’ve won anything out of a simple night out with a guy who, in the right clothes and lighting, looks kind of okay. 

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

A clock glares at you at a 6:30 timestamp as you stand in your bathroom. There's an array of clothing sprawled across the counter as the attempt to multitask becomes futile in the face of your absolute cluelessness on how to dress to get drinks with a 40 year old man. Was he 40? Who knows, maybe it's stress. Regardless, jeans of all cut from short shorts to flairs stare back at you, and patterns of all sizes leave you helpless. You spit out a bit of toothpaste in your mouth, and as you feel stumped looking at the clothes before you, you can't help but be slightly grateful that your hair and makeup were finished before you had to get dressed. Otherwise, you wouldn't make it out the door til 8. At least. 

Though as you look upon your options an idea sticks to you; some odd desire to dress, a little western. Perhaps not the full hat and spurs, but what could a little plaid hurt? And as you piece together an outfit consisting of low-cut frayed shorts, some simple boots, and a front-tied plaid button-up, you felt ready to perhaps line dance. I mean, who fucking cares anymore. Otherwise, you’d still be stuck in limbo. Better this than nothing. 

Putting on your first earring, a clock now showing 6:43, you hear a knock at the door, followed by said knock being answered by none other than your friend. Curious and afraid of who it may be, but unable to really go down and check as you hinged on being late as is, your questions are solemnly answered at the shrill “UNCLE JOEL!!!!” bounce upon the walls of the house as though she hadn't just seen him the day before. 

The indistinct conversation is held downstairs as you feel horrifically embarrassed to not remember that most gentlemen, arrive 10-15 minutes early. And you, haven't experienced anything but a 10 after honk outside your house your entire life.

As you hurry to dress, the low pitch of his voice, the drawl of his words that you can barely discern from the distance between you two but is still everpresent leaves you with a pit in your stomach of unprecedented anxiety. You had been trying so hard to convince yourself that this was normal, casual, to you, but internally you knew it was nothing but that to you. And that scared you shitless. You've failed to go on a date with anyone else since maybe, 8th grade? The graduation dance? Your whole life you remember one man, and now another seems to blow him out of the water, with unbelievable ease. You worried you wouldn't impress him, that this was your only opportunity to seemingly get something good, that he secretly still has disdain for you after what happened to you two the night before, that he- 

“HEYY!!!!!!!!! ARE YOU COMING DOWN OR WHAT! DON'T KEEP HIM WAITING!!!!” 

You witch. 

Secondhand embarrassment overwhelms any other emotion you had at that moment as a means to get you out the door, as soon as possible. Hurried steps fall down the stairs as you finish putting on your jewelry on the go, holding some within your pocket to finish up in Joel’s car. 

“Hi- oh, I'm sorry I didn't think you’d be here early uh,” 

Eyes lock on a vase of flowers new to the living room, that had not been there when you had last descended the stairs. 

“Well, I didn't want ta’ show up empty-handed. Though it nice ta’ get somethin small for the pretty ladies.” 

A shy smile creeps on his face as he explains the origin of the plants in the house, and a ring of surprise leaves you speechless for a moment. your friend pipes up;

“Isn't that so nice? Well, y'all better have a good time tonight. And don't bring her home too drunk Joel, then she’ll start telling me all her secrets, and I definitely don't want to hear that.” 

A smile and nudge hits him as she finishes her statement. 

Does she always have to be so corny? 

You look him up and down. He wore a faded blue button-up top, with the top few trailing down his chest being unbuttoned. What fell on top of that was a faded brown jacket, a darkened collar, and a sturdy material as its makeup. Jeans that seemed omnipresent on his body, but instead of working boots did he wear what seemed to be brown boots underneath the cuff of his jeans. You could tell he tried a bit with his appearance, seeing traces of gel lining his hair that fell aside his face, and a scent of cologne softly present but still enough to put on an air of intention to impress. 

Joel leads you to his truck, and as you enter it you realize just how much it smells like him. You smell sawdust and gas, with hints of his cologne. It was an old car, but with those scents combined it makes perfect sense to you. You took in the small things as he drove, anticipation welling in your body made everything seem so much more noticeable and intense, every sense in your body heightened at the sight of an unsuspecting Joel sitting to the left of you.

You notice as he bites his fingernails as though it's a habit, a strain upon his fingers down to the very skin of them that coats every finger on both of his hands. 

Both hands fall upon the wheel as he turns into the bar. 

“Finally here. Feelsa lot longer than it did when I was younger, funny thinkin of cause’ when I was ‘bout your age, you couldn’t pull me outta this place.” 

Hahaha when I was about your age. Damn you old man. 

“That mean I’m gonna have to pull you out of here tonight?” 

You look at him with a little smile, but he seems to begin getting out of the car before you can give him a direct look in the eyes. However when he goes around to your side to open your door, as you step out of it with a small jump onto the loose gravel of the parking lot, his eyes trace your body with noticeable intent. He looks at you for just a moment though, and as his eyes turn to meet your own, he just smiles and says; 

“Don't worry sweetheart, I can take my liquor nowadays. ‘Spose that cant be said fer you though, your little friend told me ‘bout yer habits when you drink.”

A satisfied chuckle leaves him that lands you in a pit of fear. What did she tell him. 

Story upon story of less-than-elegant scenes of your drunken stupor flash within your mind before the need to shake them off is immanent as he follows up; 

“Now no sense lookin like that hon, she aint tell me nothin too bad. Should she have? ‘Spose they’ve got virgin drinks now that this place got all prettied up since I last saw it. Just don't want ya pukin in my truck alright?” 

“Oh don't worry, I’ll be fine. I doubt I'll drink all too much anyways.” 

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

“ I doubt I'll drink all too much anyways “

That's all that's able to ring through your head as you demand another shot at the counter. Sure, you drank but, 

"you hold it well!"

Or so you thought. But you never really noticed until now how badly you were hurt by what happened to you in the past few days. And when you lose someone you’ve known for 3 years, the inclination to drink past your limit grows ever stronger with every downing of liquor that's not on your tab. And as that realization becomes tucked into the back of your mind with every glass, more does an unfamiliar part of you comes out. One of loud unruliness, in the face of a man you otherwise strived to impress to the greatest degree.

 At this point in the night, he’s had what, 2 beers? The first already probably already having worn off. He was a smart drinker, and you could tell he stayed under the threshold where he couldn't drive anymore, as a means to stay safe for you. And as the drinks poured you made it evident to him how much you appreciated that. Many many times. He wasn't like any man you’d ever been out with anymore. He didn't judge you, or make fun of you. He endorsed whatever made you happy.

Until, of course, a woman comes out of the bathroom to inform him the lady he came with has been nauseous near the toilet bearing on ten minutes. 

“Alright doll, we’ve got to get you home.” 

Drunken slurs of disapproval at that notion dispel from you in the way of elongated “no’s” and “please’s” fill the bar as Joel felt within himself the karma of every man who had needed to do this to him, now having to do this for you. 

“C’mon you know fightin me wont work, I'm much stronger than you darlin’.” 

And with flailed arms still being swung in the general direction of him, he finds this means to deal with you the old-fashioned way.

That being, just picking you up and taking you home that way. And thus, with one fail swoop of an arm and shoulder, you were slung over him in a fireman's carry. Too flushed and furious for a reason you can't quite discern, you throw weak jabs into his back as he takes you out of the bar as though you were nothing but a small child; treating you as though you were no weight at all upon a back hardened by muscle and grit. But even as he brings you to his truck, he lowers you into its passenger seat with nothing less than utter precaution. As though you were a porcelain doll that could break at any sight of rough handling. 

“Alright princess, in you go.” 

Is what’s mumbled under the breath of this gruff and barely buzzed man, now taking care of you as though you were a princess. At least you felt like it, as his arms wrapped around you with ease to shift you into a bridal carry that was a better means of getting you inside with. 

All you can do is say indiscernible things towards him as he says that to you. Not being able to process, at least in the moment, how softly he treated you. And as he closed the door on your side, and opened his own side to drive, you found yourself slowly drifting into a sleep wedged between the truck door and its window. Quite a comfortable situation for the moment, it seemed. 

What awoke you briefly was the feeling of his warm body against yours as he carried you out of his truck once more. This time taking you inside somewhere comfortably warm, inside home. He lays you on a couch that finds much greater comfort than the previous sleeping arrangement. As you lay down there, more than ready for rest he comes by once more to lift your head, a pillow to meet your head as you lay back down. And a blanket to cover you evermore, he made sure your body was tilted sideways. With that, you drift into sleep once more. 

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

You wake up, checking a phone clock that shines at you 3:04am against the darkness of the house. Looking around, you quickly notice that, this isn't your house. This is absolutely unfamiliar, from the kitchen to the furniture to especially, the man who slept across from you in a cushioned chair. With strained eyes and a brief flash of your flashlight, it becomes evident that it's Joel. hands crossed across his chest and a slight snore leaving his person with every breath, a pang to your head reminds you of the night you allowed go to waste in the face of drowning your problems. Cursing to yourself the lost potential of a night like this, you also thank whomever above that he chose to take you to his home instead.

 However, the liquor still seemed to have a hold on you as you looked across the living room at the dimly illuminated face of Joel through the moonlight that shone through the window. 

You approached him, slowly. A wobble in every step that when paired with unfamiliar territory meant a lot of close calls on your part, but nonetheless you walked the few feet with no major issue. And there you stood, just inches away from him. His chest rises up and down to the rhythm of his body and the peaceful eyes of a man whose body soaks in any moment of rest it can muster. His mouth was slightly open as he slept, you studied it. Slightly parted were two brightly colored lips that were covered on its top by the growth of his mustache, and its bottom being overgrown by a quarter-inch beard that coats the lower half of his face.

You lean in closer, something overtaking you that can only be explained by drunken lust. So close in fact, that you can feel the heat of his breath upon yours. It's intoxicating. You haven't felt this kind of feeling in your heart for years, this desire to do something you didn't know the consequences of. The excitement of something new overtook you. Without any more thought, you close the gap. Feeling his lips against yours as he’s non the wiser, all but a simple kiss against his lips is all you needed to satiate this urge you’d had bubbled within yourself since you first heard his voice downstairs while you got ready. 

At least, you thought. But as you tasted the liquor on his lips and smelled the remnants of cologne on his neck you couldn't help yourself. One kiss became two, to three, to fo- 

A mumble stopped you in your tracks. You shot up what seemed like 10 feet, stumbling far enough away to absolve suspicion from your highly odd acts, to say the least. 

His eyes slowly flutter open, followed by a groan and a stretch of his arms and legs wakes him up enough to address you. With fingers rubbing his eyes, he asks; 

“Hey, are’ya finally up?” 

Groggy, raspy, deep, whatever the fuck you want to say. It was everything. A just woken Texan man with the rasp and the drawl all together could finish you off right then and there. 

You search for words, excuses, anything to respond to him with. Panicked, you say the first thing that comes to your mind. 

“Oh yeah, I uh. I wanted to ask if I could take a shower maybe? Soak off the rest of this drunk. Is that, would that be alright?” 

You look for his eyes in the dark of night, and as they meet yours he forms a reply, 

“Course ya’ can. It's uh, just down there to the left. In my room.” 

“Thank you” 

Making your way down the dark corridors you find his room, and an entrance envelopes you in a part of his life. You see the things that he values enough to keep within his room, the set of sheets he sleeps on every night. The mementos that make his life fleshed out before you. And of course, the guitars. Of course, he plays the guitar, I mean what the hell else is he supposed to do. 

You stumble into the bathroom, impressively kept for only housing a single man. Within there do you mindlessly strip your clothes, opting to shower as soon as possible just to not make him any more suspicious of the things you’re doing in his own home. 

---------

Stepping out, however, having used his shampoo and body wash in an oddly exciting experience of smelling exactly like him, do you grapple with the uncomfortable realization you have no clothes to wear after you do all of this. You step out of the water, turning it off, and grabbing a towel to wrap around you a few things pass through your mind. Whether you go, and ask him for clothes. Or, if you just take them for yourself. Both have quite interesting endings to them, however, the latter seems to be more enticing. And you begin to realize perhaps it isn't the liquor that’s making you act like this, it's pure unadulterated lust. 

Walking into his room once more do you rummage through drawers and closets looking for something wearable. And within it do you find an insanely dated rock shirt, and a pair of his boxers to suit your desired amount of cover. 

You walk into the living room once more, a new wardrobe adorning you, you notice that the light is now turned on; he’s stayed awake. With a bit more caution in your step you watch as you round the corner of the living room he’s stood in the kitchen, cooking some sort of tea. Wearing little else than a pair of plaid pants to sleep in. 

“Ah he-” 

Turning to face you does he stop in his tracks as he observes you. Smelling like him, dressed in his attire, you realize that there's no man alive who could properly see that and act normal about that. Even the southern gentleman stood before you. He places the container of honey he held for his recipe down on the counter and approaches you slightly; 

“I see you’ve found some clothes then? Was thinkin a’ bringin some of Sarah's stuff in fer ya, but I’ve got to say that this is a bit better of a sight.” 

A smirk grows on his lips as he looks at you, a sense of desire that he had previously covered came to the surface as he saw you within his clothes. Assuming that was the only reason as to why.  

Walking towards you does he move a stray piece of hair from your face to the back of your ears, looking at you from above he speaks again in a deeper, more domineering voice; 

“Now I won't play stupid with you sweetheart. I felt all that stuff you were doing ta’ me, didn't think it’d be the first thing you’d do wakin up in a stranger's house. But can't say I'm all too mad at it.” 

He cups your face with his palms and lifts your chin to look up at him. 

“And now yer standing here in all my clothes, covered in me. Wasn't plannin on saying anything ‘bout it til you walked in here lookin like that. Now I don't think I can rightly resist darlin’.” 

Before you can let out a word edgewise, he takes you into a kiss of his own, making sure to taste every part of you as you did him, down to the back of your neck where his tongue quickly traveled where traces of your night still burned your taste buds.

You let a moan escape, purely out of shock are you so vocal. Closing your eyes, you let the brush of his beard on your face, and the rough kiss of his lips guide you to wherever he’d want you to go. 

After a few more moments of this, he lets up. For breath, but also to talk to you for a moment. His hands still cupped to your face, some of his fingers tracing their steps from the roots of your hair he had been grabbing just a moment prior.

“You wear all that pretty getup, and then you get all drunk on me. Spewin ‘bout how great I am, how kind I am. How you’ve never been shown anything like me. But let me tell you, sweetheart, I’ll make sure to show ya how a real man treats a woman like you.” 

He grabs you by your thighs, lifting you up in the air to wrap your legs around his waist. He walks you over to the room you’d just left moments prior and doesn't fail to kiss you every moment he can in the small walk to his bedroom. Kicking open the door cracked open, he’s finally able to dump you onto his bed as he crawls on top of you. 

“Spread yer fuckin’ legs, baby” 

You listen intently. Doing just what he asks, do they fall to the side of you with as far apart as you can make them. Feeling his calloused hands as they trace your waist from beneath his shirt, until he slowly teases the waistband of his boxers. Pulling them down slowly reveals only your naked body beneath them. 

“Such a pretty sight aren't ya? And so much for me already, what a good girl.” 

He wastes no time to dip his face within your heat. Sopping up every drip that seeped from you from the moment you’d first kissed him. Feeling his tongue venture to every crevice, every fold inside of you makes your hands grip onto his sheets as a means to hold yourself down at the feeling of his tongue all around you. 

Moaning filled his room as he pleased you, an empty house allowing the echo of your sound to make the neediness of his tongue on you to sound even greater. 

He grips onto your thighs a bit harder as he lets up for a moment. 

“Now listen, I'm gonna need ya’ to stay still alright darlin’? I'm gonna change it up a bit for ya.” 

Going back in, you feel his tongue enter you entirely. Inside of you, up and down did he hit every part of you that made you weak and spazzed under his grip. The shake of your legs was only stopped by the iron grip he kept on them to make sure they stayed open no matter how badly you wanted them closed instinctively. The feeling of him inside of you sent shocks like lightning across your body at every flick of his tongue, at every hum to your clit while he relished in your stomach growing concave and your breath hitching and whining at every slight moment he made towards you. 

“Joel- fuck. Fuck I feel like I'm going to cum.” 

You plead for him not to stop. To never stop to please you to climax. 

And he does exactly that. He toys with you and fucks you until you’re nothing but a screaming mess with him inside of you. Grabbing onto his hair, to the sheets, everything you can as your body convulses entirely by the work of his mouth alone. 

He slowly lets up, not forgetting to tease your sensitive clit for a moment longer before going to look at you. A face coated in your juices, he looks upon you with a toothy grin and a sense of satisfaction upon his face. 

“Been a while since I've done all that. Glad ta know I’ve still got it in me, sweetheart.” 

He stands up, and what greets you is a bulge that comes purely from his adoration for being able to please you as he just did. He loved watching you like that, losing yourself at his touch, being able to do nothing but scream his name until your brain went numb to anything but the thought of him. 

Out of breath with beads of sweat covering your face, you sit yourself up to better face his heat. Palming it with his hands before he could say another word, you watch his head buck up to reveal a neck and shoulders coated with tense muscle at the feeling of your hand on him. 

“Fuck darlin;. Been a while since I’ve felt any a’ that either” 

A voice interrupted by the pitch shifts of a man insanely desperate for your touch makes you well aware of what you need more than anything else. 

You continued to paw at his bulge, feeling out how big he was just by the crease of his pants beneath your hand as you toyed with it, up and down. Slowly stroking it and toying with its base. His head, and watching as each motion elicited a harsh breath to escape him as he bucked his knees ever so slightly as you continued. 

He looks down at you, and as he watches your eyes look up at him from his waist, he takes you into his arms once more. Lifting you to turn you on your back, does he lay right on top of you as your stomach lays on the bed and his body atop of yours. 

You feel his bulge between your ass, and ass he makes quick of removing all other layers, you feel how solid he is right against your back. Heavy breath met in your ear before he did anything else. 

“I’m going to make you forget feelin’ any other kind of way. The only thing you’re ever gonna remember after tonight is my cock, alright princess?” 

He takes that as a means to move it to right between your thighs, right outside your entrance do a few strokes to feel how wet you are, giving way to his tip right on your clit, up and down. That alone could finish you for a second time, but as his cock entered you you saw as his eyes rolled in the back of his eyes at the feeling of being inside of you. 

He was big, almost too big. You felt as though he was almost ripping you apart, in the best way possible. It felt so fucking good to have him slowly go into you. Feeling as with every inch closer to completely inside of you it got harder and harder for him to keep a steady pace with how badly he wanted to fuck you. 

“Fuck you don't know how badly I’ve wanted this darlin’. Can’t have even imagined how tight you’d be. You’re perfect for me.” 

As he got completely inside of you, you felt him curl over you and use one of his arms to grip your upper body as a means of support. When he went in and out of you, curling you upwards to arch your back and feel completely every thrust he put into you. 

He couldn't control himself anymore. The kind gentleman you had let open the door for you when you entered the car now dripped beads of sweat upon your naked body as he fucked you like a toy. Grunts and moans fill the room to complement the incessant moans that you scream at the feeling of him inside of you. Using you and fucking wrecking you. You felt yourself getting close again at the feeling of his cock inside of you, until you felt his free hand make its way down to your clit to please you even while he fucked you. 

“I want to make you cum again. Feel how tight you fuckin get on my cock. Think you can do that for me baby?” 

That was more than enough for you. Only after a few strokes were you a shaking mess on top of his cock, just like he commanded of you. At the feeling of your climax wrapped around his cock, he quickened his pace until he pulled out just in time to cum all over your back. Feeling it drip down every crevice of your body as the feeling of his cum shooting on you seemed to go on forever. 

Jagged breath from both you and him is all that fills the silence of the room as you two were both too tired to even speak for a moment. 

“‘Supose I’ll go clean ya up. Least I can do darlin’. You just stay right there, and I’ll get you all cleaned up.” 

And there he goes, into his bathroom. And so you let yourself lay there for a moment, dripping in your own cum as well as his. As you hear him come out from the bathroom you feel the grist of a towel meet your backside as he makes sure to take care of every spot that has him on it with much care as to not leave you uncomfortable. The doting, loving Joel came back the moment it was all over. You could feel it in the soft stroke of the towel upon your bare skin, and the quick tonal shift in his voice as he offered to get that for you in the first place.

“Sure you need these too.” 

He hands you his boxers, and as you put them on he continues. 

"You can sleep in my bed fer tonight, think that’ll be alright. Though, might have’ta join ya, the chair aint all that comfortable. If, ‘course that's alright with you.” 

He just fucked you and is asking if it’s okay to sleep in the same bed. …

All you can muster is a pat on the side of the bed next to you, at which he greatly obliged and meets you beneath the greeting sheets upon his bed. 

And as you drift into sleep once more, mumbling compliments and thanks within his ear as you grow conscious enough again to speak, he greets you in kind with sweet kisses over your face, and eventually, a big spoon to hold you until night's end. 

… 

Epilouge ?