#and then the Something New got out of hand and oh well :(

[militaryapple]

SHE'S SWEET LIKE CANDY!

synopsis. you spot something when you're out at the mall with tara. you cant help but think about your boyfriend who's at work doing the best he can, so why not give him a little gift?

cw. fem! reader, unprotected, praise, dirty talk, fingering, squirting, face fucking, cunnilingus, making him whine, petnames, make him beg for you girl, well its caleb so he a lil nasty icl, nicest I've written caleb

add ons. THIS LITERALLY CAME INTO MY HEAD WHILE LISTENING TO THE SONG OHH MY GODDDD GUYSSSHEBDHEB

wc. 2.9k

it wasn’t everyday you wore lingerie. actually, you didn’t even wear it. you thought the clothing was cute - sexy even! it just.. wasn’t something you were much into. well that was until you saw the set hanging up in a store you passed with tara. you couldn’t take your eyes off it - everytime you found yourself circling around back to the store at the mall, tara now being annoyed with you.

“i thought you weren’t that into lingerie?” she nudges you. she was right— you weren’t, but the thought of you putting it on, spreading yourself on the bed, waiting for him to come home and devour you. the sensation. you needed to buy this - it was a sign.

“i wasn’t” you retorted. sure, you didn’t really think of yourself as the type of woman to put on a show, but you couldn’t help but think about how he’d look at you. maybe he’d slowly glide your hands over the baby doll shaped dress, his hands would gently fondle your tits until your moaning for him - maybe his mouth would kiss all around you while he told you how gorgeous you looked in your newly bought clothes.

you needed that matching set.

“but trying something new wouldn’t hurt, right? it’s pretty cute too ‘tars” you nudged her back. your eyes flickered away from the glass that so proudly showed off the matching set going to your friend. tara glanced from you, to the set, back to you. her eyes scrutinizing you, her gaze watching your movements, face and even posture. it went until a moment after she moved her hands to her mouth. her face contorting into a shocked expression.

“you’re trying to impress - no, show out for someone!” tara yelled in a hush. this wasn’t a question, it was pure fact to her. oh how you hated how correct she was too, fine. you were trying to show out for someone. she wasn’t going to know that. she wouldn’t let you live it down. for sakes it was for caleb after all! part of you thinks he does deserve a little sweet treat for all the hard work he’s been doing for you.

“whaaaaaat? no! what makes you think that? i’m just.. getting more comfortable in my skin y’know?” you tried to avoid her gaze. it was scary how accurate she was on most things, like, crazy accurate. maybe you should cut her off from those spiritual classes, they were obviously working horrible wonders for her.

tara tried to hide the snicker that was coming from her. her hands returning back to her sides before she grabbed your wrist. “fine fine, let’s go get you fitted in the set you’re eyeing. i’ll pay for it - think of it as a celebration! i’ve been waiting for this moment!” you could only sigh.

this was going to be a long while.

when you finally returned home, you thanked tara before rushing up to your door and making your way inside. you could admit, you were partly excited. you couldn’t see yourself fully in the set but based off tara’s inputs you looked ‘totally sexy!’ whatever. you checked your phone and looked at the text that caleb sent you, your face in a smile.

“be home soon pip’s! can’t wait to see what you bought back home! hopefully you got me a gift :)”

oh, you got him a gift. you sure did. you couldn’t help the excited kicks you did before getting the house ready. you started the shower and made sure to get your good razor and body scrub. your washing routine being extra careful. you got out, now scrambling to dry off and get the set.

it took you a minute but you got it on, you rushed back to your bathroom and started to do your hair and makeup, making sure it was subtle but enough to give you a little boost. oh and were you were feeling yourself. anxiously, you made your way to your mirror. your gaze glancing over your body, your face, hair. you looked put together.

you giggled to yourself, striking a pose or two and taking a photo. did you want to surprise caleb when he got home? yes, yes you did. but could you contain yourself? no. no you couldn’t. you set up your room and cleaned up the house a bit before making your way to your bed and settling down. you whipped out your phone and sent a pretty little text to caleb.

“i got you a little something on the side too, wanted to show you now. i can’t wait til you come home, hurry :(” - 1 photo attached.

your bit your finger anxiously. he read it. no response. your mind wandered, what if he didn’t like it? is he weirded out now? did he not want to see you like this? god were you anxious. you couldn’t stand waiting; especially since he didn’t reply to you.

it didn’t take long until you heard the rattling of your door, your head perking up as you got back into the position you were in. he’s home. you scrambled around while the rattling stop and sounds of footsteps filled the air, getting closer and closer to your room.

your door creaked open, caleb stood there, his gaze unwavering from you. his eyes fixed on you while a smile creeped on his face. “so i didn’t imagine it.” he said softly. “welcome home, honey.” you said back oh so sweetly.

caleb didn’t take any time when it came to you, his hands finding their way around your body, his lips kissing every part of you that he could feel. how euphoric this was for both you and him. you were so sweet for him, he could almost cry. “so,” he said whispering, his head digging into your neck. “what made you get dolled up for me? hm? did i do something good?” his voice was intoxicating. how he spoke with such urgency but he was so gentle.

“hmm.. well you’ve been working so hard for me. you deserved something.” you smiled, your hands finding his. caleb felt like he could melt. just for him? for working like he’s always done? oh fuck, it was enough to make his cock twitch with eagerness.

“who am i to deny something so sweet? especially since it’s a gift from you.” he grabbed your hips, turning you over so he could see you on top of him. you were beautiful. his hands roamed around your body, he couldn’t get enough of you. your curves, the way you swayed your hips, how you arched so naturally for him, how you were made for him.

your hands found their way to his face, and he couldn’t help but lean into them letting out a soft moan. “you look really pretty, and I mean ‘fuckin gorgeous.” his words were shaky. his eyes dawned on you. your hands making their way to his jaw, then to his lips. glazing over them slightly before you bent down to give him kisses. such a good idea to wear lipstick.

your lips stained his body, it was proof. proof on how you owned him, how he was yours forevermore. caleb couldn’t help but snicker. “you having fun there?” and you nodded. you reached for his uniform, undoing it and tossing his clothes to the side. your pussy throbbed at the sight of him like this. he was so fucking pretty, like a puppy. the way his eyes looked up at you in a way where he was pleading you to let him ruin your body. the way your lipstick matched such a perfect shade for his skin and how messy his lips looked.

he looked fucking messy, and you haven’t even started.

caleb gripped your thighs, “cmon baby don’t be like that, I’m dying here.” his hips rolling - sending a shiver down your spine. you let out a moan, your hands running down his exposed chest. “i know baby” you coo. your hands moving back, finding his cock and palming it through his pants. you could drink up this sight of him and it was one of the days where his robotic arm was exposed? you were in heaven.

“fuck, fuck fuck fuck, that feels good - real good, please,” his hips bucking up. your hands sliding away while his moans turned into pleas. caleb squeezed on your hip. “no, no no no please baby let me, I’ve been a real good boy.” oh fuck did that do something to you. his face soft with an sad expression. he was so so cute you couldn’t help but tease him. your cunt throbbed from negligence. you leaned down and kissed him again, smiling. “then be a good dog and eat me out.”

you settled your body on his face, not sitting fully but enough for him to taste you. caleb let out a scoff before grabbing your thighs and tugging you down, pushing all your weight on him. “oh cmon baby, i wanna taste all of you.” and that’s what he did. caleb licked your folds and sucked on your nub, his tongue licking your slit and drinking up your arousal. he was eating you out like a starved man.

your hands gripped on his hair, your hips swayed on his lips to his nose. oh fuck did he feel good. caleb used his hands to feel your bra. it was nice, pretty. it suit you so fucking well, fuck you were his pretty girl. he whimpered, allowing you to ride his face. what’d they say? save a plane & ride a pilot? whatever it was, this was fucking it.

caleb placed sloppy kisses around your entrance, using his evol to keep you down while he was able to continue touching you. “if you keep moving baby, i can’t eat my dinner properly.” he chuckled. his tongue finding itself inside your dripping cunt, you couldn’t help but let out a loud moan. fuck he was a natural. you twitched while calebs mouth worked wonders on you.

“caleb — caleb ‘m gonna, oh oh please make me cum make me cum,” you whined. his mouth picking up speed as he kissed and licked you. fuck did he make you stupid. caleb placed his last kiss before he felt you twitch. his evol letting you move freely while he flipped you both. “look at your panties baby, they’re all soaked now.” he teased.

you couldn’t help but push him a little. caleb snickered before removing his gloves, his fingers now freed while he kissed your chest. “gonna make you cum a few more times ‘kay?” he smiled. before you could respond his fingers disappeared and your stomach does flips. his fingers big, and long, making your toes curl. “oh fuck, you’re so good caleb — so fucking good for me.”

caleb couldn’t deny, hearing you praise him make his cock throb. he wanted to make you feel like heaven and earth combined. his fingers curling upward making your gasp for air, his thumb rubbing circles on the nub of your clit. “aw baby, i really make you feel that good?” he teased. you grabbed his arm nodding and whining. you wiggled under him - your eyes glistening.

“gonna cum? cmon say you are.” he coo’d. you moaned, body shaking as you tried to at least form a sentence. “yes yes yes ‘m close please please please” god you sounded pathetic under him. he loved it. your walls clenched on his fingers as he stretched you and kissed you. “okay, cum for me then pretty baby.”

you did exactly that. coating his fingers with your juices. you felt weak, and caleb sat up. “what about me baby? i need to cum to.” he said sadly. his cock practically imprinting on his pants. you couldn’t just leave your dear boyfriend like this. you got up, pulling on his waistband and revealing his dick. did he seem.. bigger???

“from all the teasing you’re doing to me. not to mention this cute little outfit you got on.” his face wide in a smile. his tip was swollen, pink and veiny. curling up just enough to hit every one of your sweet spots. you saw the pre-cum that leaked from his slit and you couldn’t help but give it kisses.

“oh, fuck. that’s it baby.” caleb moaned, his hand making its way around your hair, and rubbing your chin.

you looked up at him, swirling your tongue around his tip. fucking perfect. was all he was able to think before you used your other hand to start pumping his cock.

he was big, it took a minute for you to relax your lips and jaw around his head, but once you felt okay; your mouth slammed on him. caleb cried out when he felt you start sucking him. his hands that were once gentle and soft now rough; grabbing your hair and bucking his hips up.

you let your tongue relax while caleb grabbed your head and rammed his cock in your mouth, abusing your throat. “i can’t help it ‘m sorry please you feel so good - so tight.” he pleas. your eyes on him while he looks completely drunk off you. he was such a pretty fucker.

his cock tightened, and your throat slacken. caleb looked down at you and moved his hands to your face. plugging your nose.

it didn’t take long for caleb to be slamming into your mouth aimlessly. his hips spurt and a ‘pop!’ sound comes from your mouth, caleb’s dick hitting your face while he came all over it. you gasped and moan. “thaaaat’s it pretty girl.”

caleb moved behind you, his hands cupping your bra then moving to the straps, undoing the clips and taking the bra off. “the sheer gown stays on.” he kisses your neck. “you look so pretty in it.”

he pushed you down gently, bringing your ass up and aligning his cock with your entrance. caleb bit his lip, “need you to relax up a little okay?” he asked, and then he eased his way in. you felt so fucking warm. the way you clenched around his cock so nicely - how he stretched you even after prepping you. it was delicious.

caleb thrusted into you, hitting your cunt in all different ways. his pace picking up speed while he groaned. “got all pretty for me, do you know how hard it was to keep my composure at work?” he whined, snapping his hips back to you. his abs rocking against you. “couldn’t even jerk myself, fuck fuck, I came home as soon as I could just for you baby.”

he was mean. his tip kissing your cervix over and over again making you into a wobbly slobbering mess of cries and moans. caleb brought his hand down right between your thighs, rubbing circles over your already crying cunt. “reeeaal nasty girl you got here baby.” he teased you, placing a kiss on your back.

caleb grabbed your hips, slamming into you continuously. you couldn’t help but rock your hips attempting to match his pace. fuck did he like the view. his pretty baby, who once was dolled up now defiled into a pathetic whiny mess. “caleb - caleb,” you whined in your pillow. makeup smearing everywhere, nice one. now you have to buy a new pillow set.

you felt yourself getting close.

it was coming fast.

you lifted your head, moaning at the feeling of caleb’s cock burying itself back into your walls and out again. euphoric. “i feel weird. so weird baby please —”

caleb hushed you “i know baby it’s okay, im close too, yeah? come on baby come on.” he coo’s. caleb’s hips snapped and you felt a little ‘pop!’ and then a nudge near your stomach. he was in. fully. you moaned and gripped your sheets, tears streaming down your face as caleb fucked you like he was in heat.

caleb nipped at your tits, he fucking loved them. how perky and sensitive they were, how everytime he kissed them you whined in response, hell, caleb loved everything about your body. when it came to you he wanted to touch and explore you. his pretty doll.

he grabbed your arms, bringing you up and kissing your neck. “cum for me baby, cmon you can do it.” he hummed. oh how those words felt like heaven for you. it wasn’t until you started twitching as caleb now thrusted slower into you, and then it happened.

you sprinkled out a clear liquid on his cock. twitching and moaning while it dripped everywhere, you panted and whined. your body relaxing as you collapse while caleb came right inside your cunt. grunting, watching the little show you gave him.

caleb pulled out of you in awe. “did you just squirt all over me?” he teased you. you heaved, letting out small “m sorry”s. caleb could only chuckle at the sight.

“it’s fine baby, it was a show for me. felt good!” he smiled. caleb could see you were tapping out, breathing heavily as your lingerie was now messy with sweat, cum and what he liked to call ‘pussy juice.’ he smiled, his eyes looking over you and then placing a kiss on your cheek as you flopped to your side.

“i’ll get the water running, this was a nice gift princess. i might start buying you more lingerie sets from now on.” he chuckled before walking out the room.

yeah, maybe you could get used to this.

[rosemaryhoney27]

Sweet war

The Justice League was no stranger to summoning powerful entities, but as the glowing green portal ripped through the air in the Watchtower, there was an unspoken tension among them. They had expected a dark and ominous figure. Instead, a teenager with stark white hair, glowing green eyes, and regal black-and-green robes with a shimmering, ethereal crown atop his head floated before them.

Danny Phantom, the Ghost King, had arrived.

The moment he set foot—or rather, floated—on the Watchtower’s floor, he held out a gloved hand, his expression neutral but expectant.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” he said. “I assume you called me for something important. Where’s my offering?”

John Constantine, ever the opportunist, smirked and stepped forward. With an exaggerated flourish, he reached into his coat and pulled out a cigarette before dramatically crushing it between his fingers. Then, placing a hand over his chest, he said, “How ‘bout my soul, mate?”

Danny turned to him, eyes narrowing slightly before his lips curled in distaste. “Ew. No one wants your broken, old soul, Constantine.”

The League collectively inhaled sharply. Superman coughed to cover a chuckle. Batman’s lips twitched ever so slightly. Zatanna stifled a snicker behind her gloved hand. Constantine, looking slightly offended, scoffed and took a drag of a new cigarette. “Well, can’t blame a bloke for tryin’.”

Wonder Woman, arms crossed, took a step forward. “Then tell us, Ghost King, what is it that you desire?”

Danny crossed his arms, looking at them all appraisingly. Then, with a small smirk, he said, “Honestly? I just want some good homemade sweets. Best you can find.”

Silence stretched between them as the request sank in. Then—

“I know just the thing,” Superman said immediately, a fond smile spreading across his face as he thought of Ma Kent’s famous homemade pies.

Batman hummed. “Alfred’s cookies.” His tone was decisive, as if it were an undeniable fact that they were superior.

Superman’s gaze sharpened. “You think your butler’s cookies can top my mom’s pies?”

Batman turned his head just enough to meet Superman’s challenge. “Yes.”

Danny, watching this unfold, raised a brow. “Wait—”

Flash grinned and clapped his hands together. “Oh-ho! This just got interesting.”

Wonder Woman smirked. “A contest of sweets, then?”

And just like that, the battle lines were drawn.

Superman wasted no time contacting his mother, explaining the situation with excitement in his voice. Meanwhile, Batman sent an encrypted message to Alfred, who replied with a simple: Understood. Commencing preparations.

Danny, who had just wanted some cookies or pie, now found himself at the center of an intergalactic baking war.

“Uh,” he started, watching as Superman and Batman prepared to bring their respective champions into the fray. “…This isn’t what I expected, but I’m not complaining.”

Constantine clapped him on the back. “Buckle up, kid. You just started the Bake-Off of the Century.”

And so, the great Bake War between Ma Kent and Alfred Pennyworth commenced, all for the favor of one very amused Ghost King.

Two days later, the Watchtower kitchen was in utter chaos.

Flash had somehow been appointed the official taste tester and was already on his fifth plate, buzzing with sugar-induced energy. Green Lantern had made a bet on Alfred and was wearing an apron that said Kiss the Cook, despite not actually doing any cooking.

Martian Manhunter was curiously sniffing a pecan pie, while Wonder Woman was critiquing Superman’s rolling technique. "Kal, you are treating that dough as if you were forging a sword. Relax. Let it breathe."

Batman, meanwhile, had an array of meticulously measured ingredients lined up in front of him. Alfred had given him explicit instructions, and Batman followed them with the precision of a man planning a high-stakes infiltration.

Danny was sprawled across a floating chair conjured from his own ectoplasmic energy, munching on a cookie from an early batch. “You guys do realize I could just declare both the winners, right?”

Superman shot him a look. “That’s not how this works.”

Batman nodded gravely. “There must be a victor.”

Danny snickered. "You guys are way too into this."

Constantine lit a cigarette and leaned against the counter, watching the madness unfold. “This might be the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

Alfred and Ma Kent, meanwhile, were exchanging polite but intense glances, silently acknowledging each other as true culinary warriors.

The Ghost King had spoken. The battle for baked good supremacy would rage on.

[illusionremember]

I'll tell you what. I've spent the past several days going through this tag. All 224 pages of it. I was angry. I wanted to block every goddamn person that used it. I don't wanna see their shit whether it was AI or not, and I don't want them seeing mine either.

But I learned some things while I was clicking through this, clicking on names, and blocking.

Overall, the content posted under this tag are predictably bland, unimaginative, and uninteresting. I think we all could have figured this one out without looking.

The users that seem to post these almost all strike me as incredibly young. Not all of them, of course, but many admit in so many words that they are high schoolers, often just messing around, as high schoolers often do.

So so SO many of these are marked in their summaries as the poster just mucking about in AI because they were bored, avoiding homework, avoiding sleep. They thought whatever it churned out was funny, or in some cases horrifyingly bad, and posted it to share it. They know it's bad. It is actually very rare for some of them to be earnestly trying to claim it as writing. There's a lot of "oh god what did I/chatgpt/insert AI write?" and "this is so weird and funny" type of tags.

on the other hand, there are a (surprisingly small) handful of them that are clearly fetish content, with extreme or taboo kink. I wonder if the use of AI helps them to separate themselves from the content they decided they wanted to read. Like a way of saying "well I didn't write this, it's the AI". I wonder if it's about shame. Of those kind of pieces, most of those posters only put up a single piece and disappeared.

A loooot of them are marked as "original fiction." As for those that are listed under fandoms, imo the posters have absolute dogshit tastes - in terms of tropes, ships, and plots they chose to prompt AI for.

Some of these aren't even fics, but use AI-generated images to illustrate, to translate from another language, or say they were "inspired by" an AI chat rather than made with it. I'm not saying that's better, but it does change the way I'm looking at that giant number at the top.

A large amount of these are listed under orphan_account. Meaning that whoever wrote it decided, for whatever reason, to disassociate themselves from it. Maybe they got pushback. Maybe they thought better of it. If this many people orphaned their works, I wanna know how many of them deleted them in full

The number is growing, but I suspect that's because this is the parent tag that the tag wranglers are constantly adding to, rather than people posting new AI content. I suspect this because every time they round up more, new names pop up on pages I already went through.

Tbh, coming to these realizations made me feel better about this whole thing. I'm sure there are other fics out there that aren't tagged for it, but this gives a good idea of the kind of content that comes out of AI. And I very deliberately am using the terms "content" and "poster" instead of work, writing, writer, or artist. Because this isn't creative work. It's content churning. It's a crude parlor trick. And even the people that posted these seem to know it.

Those of you that have played with AI. I'm talking to you now. The kind of stuff you're getting out of AI now? I promise you - it is so much better to make your own, and to look for actual writers for something to read.

You can find and write funny crackfic. People have done it for decades. You can come up with weird nonsense and bizarre ooc chaos all on your own. It's so much more satisfying.

If you are looking for angst or romance or horror or whatever to read, there's literally hundreds of thousands of fanfics written by real people that will tell far better stories. The thing is, when a person is telling a story, there's usually a core goal or message they're trying to give. Writing is about communicating something. It's about sharing the things that make your heart sing. It's about putting the things in your head and heart onto paper or a screen so that other people can see those parts too. AI isn't capable of that.

If you have ideas but you don't want to write it yourself, you just want to read it, instead or prompting an AI, consider posting your prompt to a community of other fan artists and writers, here on tumblr or somewhere else. Back on LJ, there were entire promptfill communities. People would post prompts and ideas they had, and others would respond and write them. It was my favorite part of those fandom communities. I miss them terribly. I miss the fics and art and the overflow of creativity. Most of all I miss the connection with others.

And for those of you that do want to write, to communicate ideas of your own, but think that you aren't good enough to write it yourself — I would rather read your own words than anything AI could churn out. Even if you're terrible. Even if you can't string the words together the way you want yet. Bad writing is how you learn to put words to your ideas, your feelings, the things that scare you, the things that make you laugh or cry. The computer will never, ever be able to translate those things onto a page in any way that's authentic, because it's stealing things from other people and scrambling them together. It doesn't create anything. It steals, and then mixes and matches scraps of other people's work to approximate what you asked for, and it's bad at it. It lacks intent and it lacks soul.

The words that you would choose yourself are lost every time you let AI do the work for you. And that's really sad to me. Don't willfully give up your voice. Its the most precious thing you have in this world.

Write it shitty, write it scared, write it without a clue but don't you be so spineless and have an AI write fanfic for you.

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 17

Remember when I said that ch 18 may take longer? Yeah, so I surprised myself- I thought the little fight sequence would kill me but I found a work around- kinda.

Here's ch 17, hope y'all enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 17 >>next

“Wait- you and Superman were friends? Ok, no- let me back track. You know Clark is Superman?” You asked, sipping on your Tedi drink as you stopped looking over Luthor’s plans for a Mars station. “This won’t be of any use, by the way- Mars is already populated, has a mind control parasite problem, and the Martians are quick to execute people.” Lex just laughs.

“Yes, we were. Yes, I know. No, I won’t tell you, it’s a story for another time. And I’m working on finding a diplomat for a treaty and on something to fix that little problem. Now, how did you know Clark is Superman?” You just shrug. “Not like he’s wearing a mask. Sure, the posture difference and the unfitted suits he wears helps, but if you look close enough at Superman it’ll be hard not to connect him to someone. And his face is too soft to be Bruce Wayne.”

"And I saw Lois kiss him." Luthor’s amused cackle got cut short as the doors to his office opened, Slade Wilson strutting in as if he owned the place. “How did-“ Lex almost hisses at the man, but Slade waves him off. “Does it matter? I’m already here.” The man smirks as he hands you the garment bag he was carrying, taking a seat in the other armchair near Luthor’s desk while watching you critique the work on your suit. “Ha! This looks brand new, thanks- oh this reminded me.”

You get up, swinging the closed bag over your shoulder. “I have to cut our gossiping session short, I have to go rob a billionaire. Don’t kill each other.” You snatch the pointer from Luthor’s desk, slashing your nails through the air to open a portal. “And up your security Alex!” Lex just cringes at the name, grunting in displeasure.

Slade finally turns to look at the bald billionaire. “So? Have you thought about my offer?” Luthor sighs as he slums in his chair, eye twitching at the assassin’s question, his fingers tapping the armrest. Of course he has. “You are assuming she’ll just accept it like nothing.” Slade just raises an eyebrow. “I’ll take the blame, don’t worry.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“So, who's in?” You grin widely as Rex and Amanda immediately raise their hands, mischief glinting in their eyes. “Alright- hey, calm down- why do you even want to go rob Bruce Wayne? I know you hate the guy but aren’t you afraid of Batman?”  Black Samson intervenes, the others looking at the board you produced out of thin air with pictures depicting the Wayne manor and Bruce Wayne with some drawn red horns and goatee.

“Well- it’s not technically stealing. I’m just taking my childhood stuff back. Mainly plushies.” You shrug. “Childhood stuff? You lived there?” Dupli-Kate voices what others are thinking, getting a simple yes. “Don’t get fooled by his fake clumsy act, the man is cold. And he was a deadbeat to me.” You pointed Luthor’s pointer at the Immortal. “No, I will not elaborate on my parental issues, and-“ You moved to point at Rudy when he opened his mouth. “Magic. Well, more of a pocket dimension I already had the board in.” You shrug. “Still used magic to teleport it here.”

“Can we go already?” Rex's whines are quickly followed by Monster Girl’s voice. “Yeah, I want to check rob the rich off my bucket list. And to try those cookies you keep raving about!” Samson sighs as he gets up, arms crossing looking like a disappointed father. “I can’t in good conscience let you do that. Immortal, back me up, man.” But it took one look at your unimpressed face for the spineless man to fold. “Well, if he was such a terrible father-“

“That decides it then!” You smile brightly, grabbing the message board and throwing it back into the pocket dimension. You quickly grab Rex and Monster Girl and fly away, not giving anyone else the chance to argue. “Jesus, do we weight anything to you?” Amanda grabs tighter onto you. “Nope. It’s like holding a couple of grapes.”

Samson’s eyes move from your departing figure to the ancient man, disappointment shining through as he sighs and shakes his head before going back to the GDA computer.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Can’t believe we almost got caught by the billionaire.” Amanda giggles as she eats another chocolate chip cookie. “I can’t believe the butler almost caught us! These are so good-” Rex groans, moaning as he too stuffs another cookie in his mouth. “Alfred’s highly trained, actually. Even if we were invisible, he probably still felt our eyes on him.” You shrugged, dangling your feet over the edge of the building you three sat on.

“That Bruce guy… he seemed quite wrecked when he passed by your door.” At Amanda’s worried words, you just brush her off. “He’s probably worried about it ruining his image or something.” Rex’s brows furrow as he looks at you. “What about your mom? You’ve never talked about her before.”

“Nobody asked before. But seriously- compared to Debbie, hell, compared to Eve’s mom, mine was doing it more out of duty. I loved her, I still do. She was a better parent than Bruce, but she still had her faults. Now that I know what a mom is truly like, I feel like I was more of a doll she occasionally played with when she was bored of men and work.”

“Damn. First your mom, then Wayne, now Omni-Man- you can’t catch a break, can you?” Monster Girl joked, trying to lighten the mood. You laugh and groan, eyes fixated on the stars. “Twice is a coincidence, three times is a curse, eh?” Your small talk is interrupted by the sound of your phone, the screen lighting up with a message from Mark only stating an address and to get there as fast as possible. “Well, the fun is over, I have to go. Let’s get you two home.” They both booed as they got up, making you laugh.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You anxiously sat in a seat as the alien was starting up his spaceship, giving a small smile and thumbs up as the Thraxan asked about your comfortability. “Yeah. Thanks… Hey, how long until we get to Thraxa?” Mark asks, seemingly just as nervous. “Approximately six of your earth days.”

“Wicked.” You muttered sarcastically, eyes meeting Mark’s. “We so should have talked to mom face to face.” The older sibling sighs. “I mean- you got that teleportation magic stuff, you could always just check in with her once we get there, right?” You give a noncommittal hum as you pout. “Still feels wrong. Like a trap.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Tim Drake was staring at the video footage and audio recordings, playing the sound over and over again. “Can’t believe the fuckers went through my stuff.” Keeps on being repeated by the Sorceress as two others help her throw plushies and paintings through a Lazarus green portal. His eyes move to the clock. Four in the morning, and he has been awake for about a day. His eyes moved to the only picture they seemed to find of you, the one Alfred had ran around the house with, before his eyes moved back to your figure on the screen.

He puts the coffee mug on the table while he gets up, going straight into the elevator. He was hallucinating. He must be. You were a normal kid and he was tired, and in distress, he was seeing things, associating The Sorceress with his little sister because they were two unknowns. Yes. Definitely that and not because he was in denial. Granted, Tim was tired enough not to see another figure looming in the shadows. So, he wasn’t lying to himself fully.

By the next morning, everyone in the manor found out there was missing stuff from your old room, and while Tim was sure that he was awake then, he had no proof of anything he saw. No footage, no voice recordings, nothing. His eyes drifted to Damian’s seemingly annoyed but unbothered expression, rubbing at his eyes after the younger boy gave him a smirk. Damian’s face was as blank as ever. Tim decided to get more sleep. He has to be seeing shit.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

While Nuolzot was trying to wake up your brother gently you just grabbed your pillow and whacked it across his face, making the young adult wake up screaming, fists raised ready for a fight. “We’re here sleeping beauty.” You snicker at his expression, moving in synch with him once he’s by your side, completely ignoring his mumbles.

When the door of the spacecraft opens you both flinch at the sound of the Thraxans exclaiming greetings and cheers. You both awkwardly waved. “Oh, don't mind them. Come. The monarch wants to meet you at once.” Mark and you simply follow the alien as you look around. “Wait, what exactly about this planet needs saving? Where are the meteors?” The man asks only to be answered with confusion. “Meteors? What meteors?” You give Mark a look before turning back to Nuolzot, speaking with just as much confusion. “Uh- the ones that are supposedly killing billions?” This was definitely a trap.

“Oh, yeah, those meteors. You know, must be a touch of dementia.” The alien shrugs nervously. “We age much quicker than you humans, you know. Uh, don't worry, the monarch will explain all.” The Thraxan quickly ushers you two towards the staircase, nudging you to bow politely. “Your Majesty. May I present Invincible and Sorceress of Earth.”

You look at Mark with a face that clearly shows how tired you already are of this madness. But nonetheless, you kneel alongside your brother, only looking up when a familiar voice greets you both. As your eyes meet the monarch your brows furrow. “Oh, you mother-“

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou @asillysimp @aalunar @cxcilla @sirenetheblogger @pinkluv29 @br33zy-blizzardz @victoria1676 @of-poetry-and-dreams

[raevingmadness]

Tour bus

Billie Eilish x afab!reader

‼️18+ content‼️

‼️Warnings: fingering, oral, use of strap, switch!Billie, Switch!Y/N, referring to strap as cock/dick‼️

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It was well known that Billie’s love language was physical touch. She was especially clingy with Y/N, her partner. When they were together, Billie was on her lap, in her arms or holding onto her shirt. Now Billie was out on tour, it was hard for her to go such long amounts of time without the love of her life by her side. When Y/N finally had the opportunity to fly out to join her for about a week or two on tour, Billie was over the moon. Finneas wouldn’t let her go more than five seconds without being teased about her clingy behaviour.

Sure, there was the sweet side of Billie Y/N got to see when they reunited. The giddy smile, the hugs, the kisses. But best believe as soon as they got a moment alone, a whole new side to Billie came out. Not clingy Billie, needy Billie.

She was all over her girlfriend, kissing and squeezing her as they stumbled onto the tour bus. The couple didn’t even make it to the bed. Billie had her partner pinned beneath her on the couch. “Billie, baby, you’re being pushy.” Y/N breathed out as her shirt was thrown across the room and Billie’s hands moved around her back to unclasp her bra. “‘M sorry, babygirl. Just missed you s’much.” She murmured between hasty kisses to Y/N chest. “Shit-“ the taller girl gasped as the singer’s lips closed around her nipple. Billie moaned against Y/N’s soft skin. She’d missed that sound, that breathy moan she was always able to coax out from her girl.

As Billie moved closer, swirling her tongue around Y/N’s nipple, the shape of something familiar became clear in her shorts. “Fuck. You’ve been shopping without me, hm?” She breathed out. Billie smirked as she took off her own shirt and threw it on the floor. “Mhm, I kept you in mind.” She purred. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of Y/N’s shorts, tugging them down. She bowed her head down, nipping at her thighs and soothing the marks with kisses or gentle licks. “Stop teasing, I haven’t seen you in like a month.” The woman whined. “I know, ‘m sorry. Just so happy to have you back, I wanna appreciate you.” Billie breathed out as she began sliding Y/N’s panties down her legs.

Billie spread Y/N’s legs slowly. “You’re so wet already.” She observed, sliding her finger against the girl’s slit teasingly. Her hips bucked at the sudden touch. “I can’t help it.” She pouted. “Oh I know, baby.” Billie hummed, sliding a finger into her partner slowly. She bit her lip, almost moaning at the way Y/N’s lips parted in a soft breath of pleasure. Billie kept her mouth busy, kissing her girlfriend’s thighs as she eased a second finger into her dripping heat. “Oh my god-“ Y/N gasped, brows creasing as she moaned a little louder. Billie ducked down, flicking out her tongue to tease Y/N’s clit. The singer closed her eyes, happily listening to the sounds escaping Y/N’s mouth.

When she got close, Billie withdrew. She giggled at her girlfriend’s pout and pathetic panting. “Just hold on, baby.” Billie soothed as she pushed down her shorts and boxers. Y/N almost gasped at the sight of the strap Billie was wearing. “Holy shit. Will that-“ she began. “It’ll fit, honey.” Billie stated confidently, trying to slide a layer of reassurance on her tone. Billie brought her partner into needy kisses, not yet filling her the way she wanted. “Billie, I want your cock.” Y/N whispered, knowing exactly what to say to get what she wanted. Billie gasped at her girlfriend’s whisper. She kept Y/N pinned to the couch, hand sliding between them so she could line up the strap. Y/N gripped onto the shorter girl’s shoulders, preparing herself for the initial stretch.

Both women were panting messed as Billie got to work. Each thrust made Y/N whimper and Billie moan. “Good job, babygirl. You’re doing so well for me.” Billie cooed as she pushed her fingers through Y/N’s hair. Their kisses became quick and needy, something to cover up the sounds they couldn’t stop themselves from making. Billie’s hand moved under the other woman’s knee, lifting the her leg so she could fuck the strap deeper into her pussy.

With each thrust becoming deeper and stronger, Y/N couldn’t stop herself from a particularly loud moan escaping her lips. Billie would have to pay the tour bus driver extra. Poor guy.

Billie hated to admit it, but she didn’t know if she could keep up. Her thrusts were becoming sloppy. She usually had more stamina than this but after a concert, it was hard to remain dominant and rough for such long periods of time. Y/N noticed Billie’s fatigue and cupped the dark haired girl’s face in her palms. “Let me ride you, Bils.” She whispered. Billie nodded dumbly, a shiver rolled down her spine as she pulled out.

Y/N straddled Billie’s lap, grabbing the strap and lining it up to her drooling cunt. “Look at me.” She whispered. Billie’s attention was instantly grabbed, her eyes locking with her partner’s. Billie bit her lip, watching as her lover slid down onto the strap. Y/N’s moans were shameless as she began riding. Billie couldn’t help herself, grabbing and squeezing the woman’s tits as she bounced on the strap. “Oh fuck- ‘m gonna cum!” Y/N gasped, nails digging into the shorter woman’s shoulders as she bounced up and down. “Good girl, baby. Cum for me- fuck- cum on my dick, baby.” Billie panted, able to steady her shaky hands enough to grab her partner’s hips and slam her up and down on the fake cock.

Y/N’s head fell forward, face buried in the crook of Billie’s neck. She was a whining, whimpering mess as her entire body shivered with pleasure. She murmured something, words slurred and quiet. Billie rubbed her hands soothingly up and down her girl’s sides. “What was that, baby?” She whispered. “Love you, Bils.” Billie smiled at the soft, shaky tone. “Love you too, babygirl.”

.~*_______________________________________*~.

[noctiva]

oh my heavens oh my DAYS i am claiming bunny anon ( this one specifically!! 🐇 )… dewd u have to let me know ur thoughts on toby fluff and smut mixed together!! I AM A SUCKA for it….

LIKE IMAGINE???? HIM COMING HOME ONE DAY JUST SO TIRED.. baby boy just wants to lay back against the couch and just nap and just… reader gives him head.. telling him all sorts of praises and compliments.. overstimming him.. WHOWOWOOWEIHEOHWO and when he finally cums he’s just a sobbing drooling mess of whimpers OH MY LAWD

I read ‘sobbing drooling mess of whimpers’ and FLEW to my keyboard. you are a visionary and i hope you know that thank you for blessing my inbox

//

A Little R & R

Toby Rogers x F!Reader [NSFW!]

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WC: 6.3k

Summary: After a particularly long day at work leaves him practically dead on his feet, Toby wants nothing more than to just sit back and relax. Lucky for him, he has a lovely girlfriend to help with that

CW: 18+ content, explicit sexual content, brief mentions of violence and death, playing with his mouth gash a lil, oral sex (male receiving), wet and messyyyy, begging and teasing, dom/sub undertones but it’s not really that deep, deepthroating, spit and drool, overstimulation, snowballing kind of, praise kink!, borderline body worship, but it’s Toby soooo.. real, tears from both parties, slight dacryphilia, pathetic men!

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NSFW under the cut! Minors do not interact!

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It had been a long day.

Though he couldn’t feel the pain and soreness, Toby could feel the fatigue in his bones. Seeping into his muscles. Weighing like an anchor on his shoulders as he dragged his feet with each shaky step.

He had been up early (well, ten AM. His version of early), and spent the greater half of the day knee deep in forest brush as he tracked down the target for that particular day. It had been cold too. Snow falling and accumulating on the ground below him, heavy boots crunching each time they hit the forest floor. He had felt the effects of it; stiffer muscles, shortness of breath, eyes watering every time the wind whipped past him.

It was supposed to be an easy mission. Tim and Brian were supposed to help him with it. Not that he needed their help, and had made that very clear when they told him they were going to be taking off to deal with something else out of town - but it would’ve been nice. Would’ve been nice to have an extra set of hands, or two, to find and subdue his two victims easier.

Would’ve been nice to have Brian’s gun, to finish them off faster and more efficiently.

Would’ve been nice to get home a few hours earlier.

But he made do, like he always did. Refusing to let himself look less than capable. It had taken him far too long for his liking, but by two PM each of his hatchets had found a new home lodged within the skulls of two very unfortunate souls. Blood against snow. So stark and bright against the previously unblemished backdrop.

It was really, quite picturesque. He however, was too annoyed and exhausted to really take in the sight. Because though the job was over, it wasn’t really over. He still had to drag these two heavy, limp bodies off to some even more secluded area of the forest. Dig a hole in this frozen, snow covered earth, then throw them in.

And he wasn’t even getting paid for it. God, this was stupid.

By three PM, he was finally walking back. Back to the little cabin he had made a home out of with you. Which, really, was one of his only motivating factors nowadays. If he just got through the day, and did what he needed to do, he’d be rewarded with the gift that was your company.

Your voice, so sweet and soft as you asked him how his day was. Your hands, so gentle as they carded through his hair - nails scratching against his scalp in soothing patterns, sending a shiver down his spine. And your smile. God, how he loved your smile. So lovely and warm, bestowed upon him. Like he wasn’t a killer, a monster of a a man.

With you, he was just… Toby. And he liked that. He liked that a lot.

The work didn’t stop when he got home though, much to his dismay, because he was very quickly reminded of his other job. Caring for you. Not that it was really a job, because he liked doing it, but fuck if he didn’t wish he was a normal member of society on days like this one. A person who could just drive to the grocery store, because it wasn’t a literal forty minute journey away.

But he didn’t have that luxury, and so, if he wanted to eat tonight - he had to go hunt for it.

Toby had popped inside for a little while, given you a kiss on the cheek and asked about your morning, but far too quickly thereafter he was trudging out the doors of his home once more and walking back out into the woods

Again, he never minded providing for you. If anything, he got gratification from it - knowing that you relied on him. It felt good to be needed, to be loved and appreciated.

But man, he was exhausted. His muscles were screaming at him by the time he had trekked back home, hauling a deer carcass with him that he would no doubt also need to skin and butcher before he handed it over to you.

Work was never over. It was never over.

When he finally walked through that cabin door for the final time that day, Toby was dead on his feet. His eyes were drooping, hands trembling from fatigue, knees weak as he forced himself to take step after step. He felt like he may just collapse any moment, but all he had to do was make it to the couch.

Maybe take a little nap while you cooked dinner, then have a meal with you before retiring to bed for a well needed night of rest.

That sounded lovely.

“Toby, hun? You alright?” He heard your voice as he dragged himself towards the couch in the living room, and glanced at you before offering you a tired smile.

You were peeking out from the kitchen, barefaced and beautiful, wearing what he recognized to be one of his hoodies as you leaned against the doorframe. Christ, you really made it all worth it. Just the sight of you alone, so sweet and pretty, like an angel that floated around his home.

For a moment, you made the fatigue riddling his body seem not that bad. The guiding light in the gruesome, abhorrent string of events that was his life.

“J-Just tired.” He murmured back to you softly, as he reached a hand up to tug down the hood that had been covering the shaggy mess of hair atop his head. His signature orange goggles rested snugly in the strands, lenses scratched and stained with what you knew was blood. Human, or animal? You weren’t sure. Probably both. “Long d-day, you know?”

You hummed softly in response, watching with a keen eye as he slowly made his way over to the couch - then promptly flopping onto it. Sprawling his limbs, sinking into the cushions, eyes fluttering shut on contact.

He looked drained. Completely, utterly, rinsed clean of any energy he had when he first left the house this morning. His eyes were closed, long lashes resting against his cheeks, body near limp as it sunk into the sofa. You watched as his chest rose and fell with every breath, soft and slow, his lips parted.

He looked… Pretty, you thought to yourself. So pretty as he lounged against the couch, his body tired and worn.

So tired, because he had been caring for you. Keeping you safe, bringing you meals, making sure you were happy.

He lived and breathed for you, it seemed. A fact that was never lost on you. Toby put all of his time and effort into making sure life was nothing but a breeze for you, and you had to wonder… Did you deserve it? Did you provide for him, just as he provided for you?

You tried to. Washing him clean of blood and grime, stitching his wounds shut when he came home beaten and bruised. Patching up his clothes and trimming his hair. Was it enough though? Would it ever be enough?

Did he know, just how much you meant to him?

You’re moving before you even realize it, the meat you had been planning to prepare left sitting in the refrigerator. You couldn’t help it, you felt as if he needed you, right now. Needed to be appreciated, loved, needed to know just how much you valued every little thing he did.

You reach the couch in record time, and then you’re sinking down to your knees. You rest your head on his chest, your hand coming up to rest on his stomach - feeling the warmth of him through his stained hoodie. You feel as his jolts at the touch, eyes snapping open, immediately honing in on the sight of you so close. “W-What’s up?” He asked hoarsely, gaze directing down to your hand, and the way it had begun rubbing soothing circles against his abdomen. The touch gentle and soft, just as you always were.

“Missed you.” You murmur back to him, looking up at him as you press your cheek to his chest. He’s staring down at you with half-lidded, tired eyes, confusion evident in his irises. “You know I love you, right? And all the things you do for me?”

“I-I don’t do muh-much.” Toby mutters back to you with a sheepish little smile, bringing a hand up to rest upon your head as you nuzzle into him. His arm felt like it was made of lead as he raised it, fatigue seemingly flowing through his veins. But he would endure it for you, to touch you. To hold you close. “Just d-doin’ what I’m supposed t-to.”

“No…” You answer back to him, before raising your head up. From there, you bring your whole body up - crawling onto him so fluidly it barely makes the couch rustle. Almost like you were supposed to be there. You watch as his eyes widen minutely, fingers twitching in the air where they had once been resting against you, and you smile sweetly down at him. “You do so much for me, baby. You know that, don’t you?”

You sit up, thighs straddling his hips, your body pressed so undeniably close to his now. You know he can feel it, if the way his cheeks had begun to flush was anything to go by. He looked so cute like this, all wide eyed and pink all over. Eyes still drooping from exhaustion, but fighting to stay open just so that they could fixate on you.

You hum softly before lifting your hand, bringing it up to cup his cheek. The marred side. Sensitive, you knew it was, and so you grazed your thumb against his exposed gums on purpose - just to see what his reaction would be.

His reaction, proved to be absolutely lovely.

He whined softly, brows pinching together as your fingers grazed the sensitive flesh. A surge of tingles wracked his body, stemming from the source that was your touch. So soft, so light, and yet it was everything. You set his body on fire. You always did. Your touch a force that sent him reeling every single time, and he wasn’t sure if it was because he was so tired, but it felt like the intensity had increased tenfold as you passed your fingers over his skin. “So good to me, Toby. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Y-You’d be fine.” Toby mutters, though his words do come out shaky. He can’t help it when he leans into your touch, and you feel it when a small amount of saliva seeps out of the gash and wets your palm.

Already drooling? God, he’s cute.

“Nuh uh.” You giggle back to him, your eyes somehow both sickeningly sweet and suffocatingly heady as you look down at him. From your perspective, gazing down at him as he looks up at you with a mounting desire in his gaze, Toby looks like a dream. “You’re everything to me. My sweet, sweet boy. Always making sure I’m safe.”

Your palm leaves his face, dragging down his jawline and brushing against the stubble there - and you watch as his neck flexes under the gentle touch. “Always working so hard. Getting up early, staying up late.” Down his neck, your fingers trail. Feeling how his Adam’s Apple bobs when he swallows thickly, his pulse fluttering under your touch. Your palm comes to rest on his chest, and then you can really feel his heartbeat. Racing. Near frantic from your tender hands. “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

“SS-Stop it, baby.” He chuckles sheepishly, the pink flush on his cheeks spreading up to his ears and down to his neck. All pink and pretty beneath you, that’s what he was right now. Trying to fight it but doing so in vain. If it wasn’t the colour of his face that was giving it away, it was the look in his eyes.

Dark, pupils just widening more with each word you spoke. “I’m j-just doin’ my job.”

“You don’t have to do any of this.” You murmur back to him, pressing your palm against his chest before it starts to trail down lower. Over his ribs, down the slope of his abdomen. Feeling how his muscles tense under your touch, even through the layers of clothing. “But you do. Because you’re amazing.”

Slowly, your fingers reach the hem of his jeans and curl underneath it - feeling the fuzz of his happy trail graze against the back of your hand. His hips, ever so impatient, jump at the contact, and suddenly he looks more awake than ever.

“W-What are you doin’?” He asks, like a deer in the headlights as he lifts his head a little. If you thought his pupils were wide before, they were damn near swallowing his irises now - especially when your fingers drift down a little bit lower to play with the buckle of his belt.

Your eyes lift to meet his, a playfulness in your gaze that makes his heart stutter (and his cock come to life).

“Just… Showing my appreciation.” You hum softly as you lazily play with his belt. Not undoing it yet, just toying with it. Making your presence known. Your nails clink against the metal of the buckle, and his heart rate kicks up a notch. “Don’t you think you deserve it?”

You didn’t think it was possible for Toby to go even pinker, and yet he manages it. You hear it as his breathing trembles on exhale, his whole body going taut the more you teased him.

“N-No. I mean… I-I don’t-“ He’s fumbling for words, stumbling over them and stuttering more than he usually does. He’s looking at you like he’s never been touched by a woman before, all flushed and shaky. As if you hadn’t gone down on him more times than you could count. As if you didn’t have the taste of his cum ingrained on your taste buds. It’s… Adorable. Really sweet, actually. “I just… I mean- You d-don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t have to.” You giggle softly, raising an eyebrow at him. “I want to. Do you not want me to?”

You want to. You want to make him feel good. His body had been growing increasingly hot since you had first settled onto his lap, but he felt like he was burning up now. His skin was on fire, his clothes feeling more and more suffocating with each touch you laid upon him.

“Of c-course I do!” Toby rebuts immediately, so eager it makes a grin spread onto your lips. “I just d-don’t want you to feel like… I’m expecting it. B-Because I do things for you.”

You could swoon right then and there. Could you fall even more in love? You didn’t think it was possible, but he was really proving you wrong right then and there. You could just eat him up. All twitchy and tense beneath you, a visible bulge growing in his jeans throughout the course of the conversation. He was so reactive to you. Always had been. Getting hard if you did so much as place a soft kiss against his neck.

It was one of your favourite aspects about him, really. His desperation.

“Don’t be dumb.” You chastise lightly, a sweet smile on your face that told that your words weren’t to be taken completely seriously. “Have you ever considered that maybe I like doing it?”

And just like that, all of the blood in Toby’s body rushes south.

“Y-You do?” He chokes out, his chest feeling tight and his pants feeling tighter. He watches in a daze as you start slowly pulling his belt undone - pretty polished nails and soft fingers, working to get him bared for you.

“Uh huh.” You speak back to him in a low murmur, your own heart jumping as you pull his belt free. You don’t stop there, languidly tugging it from the loops, wanting any restriction completely removed. “Is it really so surprising? I love all of you.”

You drop his belt to the ground, a movement that his eyes flick over to for just a second, before they’re fixating on you once more. This absolute goddess on his lap, turning him to mush without even placing a single finger on him yet. “I love… Your eyes.” You hum as you pop the button of his jeans. “I love your voice.” You start to tug his zipper down. “Love your laugh, and the way your eyes crinkle up when you do.”

Once his zipper is down fully, your fingers grasp his waistband again - shimmying it down low on his hips until he got the hint. He got it rather quickly, shifting on the couch to let you pull the material off of him completely.

Left just in his boxers, you can really see the effect you have on him. Cock straining against the thin material, a visible tent with a wet patch at the tip. You lick your lips, before taking in a shaky breath. “I love how sweet you are to me. I love your hair. Love your nose.” You slide your body back a little bit, making it easier for yourself as you lean down low - bringing your face closer to his confined length. “And I love your cock.”

Was he melting? Toby was sure he was. His joints felt gooey and his entire body scalding hot. Not to mention, he was tingling all over - your soft whispered praises making him squirm beneath you. He wasn’t quite sure how to handle all of this, really. Being the focal point of your unwavering desire.

Normally, when something like this happened, you were at least bared as well. Just as vulnerable, just as shaky when he touched you just right. But this time, it was only him. Him, exposed and desperate. Him, on the receiving end of all your sinful words. No distractions, no other motive, just him.

He thinks he might just combust if you keep this up.

Little did he know, that was the plan.

You dip your head down low, nuzzling against his clothed length with a soft moan. Feeling how achingly hard he was, the pressure of it against your cheek when you rubbed up to him. His hips jolt at the contact, a strangled noise leaving his lips.

Your eyes flick upwards, and you see him watching you - his gaze equal parts aroused and in disbelief as you part your lips. “I’m gonna take care of you, don’t worry.” You murmur as your hands drift down his body to splay against his hipbones, holding him in place even as he tried to rut up towards you impatiently. “Just gotta be patient. Sit back and relax, okay?”

Easier said than done. Especially when you stick your tongue out and drag it against the length of his clothed cock. “So hard for me already.” You coo softly against the fabric, lips brushing against him in the most tantalizing way. “You look so good like this, you know? So hot.”

Toby thinks he genuinely might fucking pass out. The sight of you, mouthing against the tent in his boxers, face flushed and eyes dark, makes him feel woozy. Not to mention, you just keep talking. Just one layer away from his throbbing desire, showering him with compliments in that sweet, sweet voice of yours.

If you’re not careful, he might just cum before you even get him fully bare.

(You’re aware that’s a possibility, but would that really be so bad?)

“Y-You-“ Toby’s voice chokes off when you bring a hand downwards, leaving his hip to cup his length instead. Curling around it through the fabric of his underwear, squeezing with just enough pressure to make his vision go blurry against the edges. “J-Jesus fuck, you’re one t-to talk.” He manages out, voice trembling and wracked with stutters.

You hum softly with a sly smile on your lips, before pressing a kiss to the head of his cock.

“Maybe…” You murmur softly. “But this isn’t about me.” You lift your head up, hand still pressed against him but your lips wander. Tracing the his happy trail with a line of sloppy kisses, smearing spit against his scalding skin with each one. “This is about you.” His muscles tense up under your lips, abs flexing beneath you each time you make contact with his skin.

Slowly, you start to move your hand. Stroking him lazily as you drag your tongue against him, revelling in all the little whimpers and moans you can hear him trying to hold back. “This is about how much I love you,” You nip at his hipbone lightly, and you would swear his entire body jolted. “About how good you are to me.” You rub your thumb against the head of his cock through the fabric, and he’s hissing through his teeth. “How you deserve all this, and more.”

You can feel him throbbing under your palm, twitching every so often and so incredibly hard. If this were any other night, he’d probably be balls deep in your leaking cunt by now, but this wasn’t any other night.

As you had told him so explicitly, this was completely and utterly about him, and him alone.

“B-Baby-“ Toby’s gasping out when you squeeze him softly, right as your mouth starts to suck a red mark just above the waistband of his underwear. “Y-You gotta- I can’t-“ His words are strained and hoarse, like he’s forcing them out - and when your gaze lifts to look at him you can see why.

His head is tilted back now, jaw tense and muscles taught as his chest heaves with every shaking breath. He’s flushed all over, right down to his collarbones, and his hands are gripping the couch so tight his knuckles are going white. There’s a glint of light, and that’s when you notice the line of drool running down his neck. “I need- need to feel you. Puh-Please. D-Du wirst mich b-brechen.”

When he slips into his mother tongue, that’s how you know you’ve really gotten him good. Usually, that only really happens when he’s already deep down your throat, so to hear it before even properly touching him makes your heart jump in your chest.

He’s such a mess already. Such a beautiful, trembling mess.

His eyes, which had previously been squeezed shut, flutter open when he feels your actions still momentarily, and- Holy fuck, is he about to cry?

You can see it, the glassy sheen, making his eyes glitter when the low lights of the living room hit them. His eyelashes are damp and clumping together, and his bottom lip trembles when he releases it from where he had been gnawing it between his teeth. “S-Sei nicht gemein.” His voice quivers, and you think for a moment that you might just be a little bit of a sadist - because you don’t think he’s ever looked more lovely.

But you won’t push him. Not tonight.

“Am I being mean?” You ask softly, eyes locked on his when you shimmy down his body again. His breath catches in his throat when your lips hover over him once more - breathing out a hot puff of air against the dampened material. “I’m sorry, baby. Wasn’t trying to be. Just wanted to see if you tasted as good as you look.”

You finally, finally start to tug on his boxers. “You do, by the way.” Lower and lower you pull them, until his cock springs free just inches from your face - hitting the tensed muscles of his stomach with a slap. The moment you catch sight of him, you quickly understand why he’s so bent out of shape.

He looks painfully hard, his length flushed red and leaking at the tip as it throbs against his skin. You don’t know if you’ve ever seen him more worked up than he was now. And you’re a lot of things, but you’re not cruel.

You said you were going to take care of him, and so that’s exactly what you’d do.

You wrap a hand around the base of him, fingers curling into a gentle grip, and Toby has to fight to not just cum from that alone. Your hands, so soft and tender, felt like an angel’s touch. His chest heaves, a gasping breath leaving him when you start to slowly pump his cock. Gathering up all the sticky mess at the tip to slide it back down, grip with just the right amount of pressure, thumb dipping into his slit on each upstroke.

“H-Hah-“ Toby sinks into the cushions, mouth dropping open as soft little pants leave his lips. “Y-You.. Fuck, I l-love you.”

“Love you more, baby.” You murmur back to him, then you’re finally dipping your head down to where it needs to be. Your lips part, and you stick your tongue out before dragging it flat up the length of him - eyes on him the entire time.

Toby’s becoming increasingly convinced you’re trying to send him into cardiac arrest.

The sight of you, looking so lovely and sweet as you peer up at him through your eyelashes. Your hand languidly moving against him as you give a few kitten licks to the tip of his cock. Lapping up his precum greedily. It’s like, the perfect combination of cute and provocative, and so he really can’t help it when his hips buck up towards you eagerly. Especially not when you circle your lips around him.

“A-Ah, Scheiße-“ He hisses out, eyebrows screwing together when you start to sink your mouth down onto him - your hand still working every inch you hadn’t swallowed up yet. You’re so warm and wet, cheeks hollowing around him as you take more and more of him in. Lower and lower your head sinks, and by the time he’s bumping against the tense muscles of your throat - Toby’s thighs are already trembling beneath you.

His whole body, is trembling actually. Ragged huffs of breath spilling from his lips, along with a flurry of gasps and moans then send a bolt of heat straight down to your gut. His voice has become increasingly raspy, a fact that has you shifting your thighs together as you work to take him all. Even more so when he lets out a soft whimper before whispering; “Y-You feel so good.” The words come out as more of a whine than anything else, so desperate and overwhelmed. “D-Du fühlst dich wie H-Himmel.”

You let out a little hum in response around him, and the vibrations it lets out makes his toes curl. It’s when you take in a deep breath through your nose and sink down even lower, that his eyes are rolling back.

Your nose bumps against his pelvis, nuzzling into the soft fuzz there as his dick slides all the way into your throat - muscles wrapping around him like a glove. A soft gag from you just makes them tighten around him further, and he’s choking out a strangled cry.

You feel it when a shaking hand comes to rest on top of your head, desperate in the way his fingers immediately curl into your hair. Tugging a little too hard, maybe, but you really can’t blame him. Besides, the sting it produces isn’t even an annoyance either - it feels nice. Feels like he’s clinging onto you for dear life. Like he’d crumble apart if he ever were to let go.

Your tongue darts out, and then you’re licking up the small pool of spit that had already begun to accumulate around the base. When you start to pull your head up, an absolutely filthy slurping sound accompanies the action.

It rings in Toby’s ears, only further spiking the temperature of the heat he was completely consumed in. With laboured breathing his head is spinning, legs twitching and trembling beneath you - fingers wrapped in the strands of your soft hair. He wants to keep watching you - how your lips stretch around him, the sight of his length disappearing into your throat with each bob of your head - but it’s really a struggle.

He can barely keep his eyes open, and even when they are his vision is fogged up and unfocused. He is able to still make out how lovely you look though, flushed pink with a paralyzingly potent look of desire in your eyes. Tears cling to your lashes before they start running down your cheeks, and yet you just keep pushing. Taking his whole length every time you bring your head down, eyebrows furrowing together at the feeling of him filling your throat.

And he just can’t help himself.

The hand on your head gives an experimental bit of pressure, just seeing how you’d react. You nuzzle into his palm as your drag your tongue back up his cock, meeting his eyes with a gaze that left no questions. ‘Go ahead’. It said. ‘Do whatever you want’.

His fingers twitch. You had really meant it when you said this was all about him.

Almost hesitantly, Toby uses his grip on your hair to tug you w upwards, revelling in the way your tongue dragged against him along the way. When you’re left with just the tip enclosed in your lips, he lets out a shuddering breath. “S-So fuckin’ pretty.” He murmurs, absolutely entranced by the display in front of him. “Womit ha-habe ich dich verdient?”

Your eyes sparkle with unshed tears, and he’s completely captivated. Slowly, he pulls you back down - lips suctioning to the taut skin as you suck him back in.

He just can’t take it anymore. His head lols back against the couch’s armrest, eyes squeezing shut as wave after wave of white hot ecstasy washes over his entire body. He feels like he’s drowning in it, his head stuffed with cotton as he gasps for air. With his jaw hung open, he can absently feel the slickness as drool pools in his mouth before rolling down his chin - but he’s too far gone to even care about it.

It runs down the slope of his neck, dirtying the collar of his sweater and leaving his skin glistening. It’s just too good. You’re too good. Taking everything he was giving you so eagerly, letting him bob your head up and down on him without so much as a little whimper of complaint.

You were just eating him up. Slurping up the mess you were both creating happily, flicking your tongue against the tip every time he pulled you up. You can tell he’s incredibly close. Hell, he’d probably been holding it back for awhile now. Throbbing and twitching against your tongue, so hot and hard it felt like he might just burst any moment.

“SS-So good- So- hah- Fuck, you’re amazing.” His words are barely more than mindless babble, slurred and shaky as they pour out between moans. It’s like you’ve melted him, reducing him to a puddle of mush that you were lapping up eagerly.

Any issues from before had been wiped away completely. The fatigue, lingering frustration and annoyance from how the day had played out - it’s all gone. You’re the only thing that existed right then. You, and that glorious mouth of yours. “I’m- I’m so close, b-baby. I can’t. F-Fühlt sich zu g-gut an.”

If your mouth wasn’t stuffed full you would’ve cracked a grin.

He’s a pitiful sight right now, really. Skin smeared with drool and sweat, eyes screwed shut with tears clinging to his lashes. He’s a trembling, twitching mess - filling the air with strained whimpers and gravelly moans.

You can’t help but feel a little proud of yourself, for reducing him to such a state.

Your hands, which had been resting on his thighs, drift upwards. Over his hipbones, under the hoodie that he still donned - pushing it up to his chest. His muscles are so tense, abs more prominent than ever as they contract and relax with each nod of your head. You splay your palms wide against the skin, and Toby’s so sensitive now that he quite literally jolts at the touch.

He felt like his nerves had gone into overdrive, the simplest touch from you sending sparks of pleasure through his entire body. Your hands against him left what felt like two burning handprints against his abdomen, tingling wherever your skin met his. You feel his cock throb when he reaches your throat once more, and you know just how to push him over.

Curling your fingers, you slide your hands down his stomach - dragging your nails against the sensitive flesh as you do so. You feel his muscles convulse beneath your palms, and Toby’s letting out a sound closer to a sob than anything else as his hips kick up towards you. “A-Ah, fuck- D-Du bringst mich um.” His grip on your hair is definitely painful now, tugging at your hands so harshly that the sting is undeniable. His bucking hips start to stutter, choked off whimpers spilling from his lips before he’s gasping; “I can’t- I c-can’t, baby-“

You hum around him in encouragement, rubbing your thumbs over his hipbones in slow soothing circles. That little gentle touch, is what seemed to be the final straw.

Toby lets out a broken cry as his hips buck into your mouth, and then his shoulders are drawing back as his release hits him like a ton of bricks. It’s a pitiful sound really, a long drawn out whine followed up by a few cracked sobs of pleasure as stars dance behind his eyes.

He spills into your mouth, coating your tongue white with rope after rope of sticky warmth. You take it all like you had been starving for it - suckling at the tip to draw it all out as he squirmed and gasped on the couch beneath you. Was it too much? Maybe, but he just tasted so good - and the sounds he was making were even more delicious. It’s really hard to find the will to stop.

You don’t let up until he has to beg you to. “B-Baby- ‘S too muh-much-“ He’s whimpering out, cheeks moist with tears as his eyes flutter open to gaze down at you. He’s sniffling and shaking when you finally release him with a soft ‘pop’, and you press a kiss to the tip before you let go of him completely.

Another kiss meets the skin just below his belly button as you reach down to gently tuck him back into his boxers. His skin is still so hot to the touch, and his thighs tremble when your fingers lightly graze them.

Slowly your eyes lift as you bring your head up, and you meet gazes with Toby’s hazy ones. He looks so sated and satisfied, limbs practically limp as they sprawl against the couch cushions. Still though, he finds the energy to lift his arms and grab at you. “C’mere.” He mumbles softly, already tugging you close before you can even agree (not that you’d ever protest).

You sink into his arms easily, your body pressed to his - exchanging heat, sweat, and everything in between. Your hand lifts, and then you’re cupping his face once more, gently wiping away some of the drool on his cheek with the sleeve of your sweater.

“So sweet.” You whisper softly, tracing the curve of his jaw with your thumb. Toby’s staring up at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky, lovestruck eyes half hidden behind drooping lids. “I love you.”

His lips stretch into a lazy smile, forming those little creases in his cheeks that you adore so much. He leans into your touch, a soft little sound of contentment leaving his lips. Then, he reaches up with a shaky hand. It finds a home back in your hair again, cupping the back of your head tenderly before he’s pulling you in closer.

“L-Love you more.” He answers back in a soft breath, one that washes over your lips before he closes the gap between you.

His lips are slick and the kiss is sloppy, but you melt into it regardless - moaning softly into his mouth when he nips at your bottom lip.

He can taste himself on your tongue when he licks into your mouth, a fact that makes a shiver go down his spine. He can still picture you, every time he closes his eyes - nestled between his thighs. So beautiful, and so determined to make him feel good.

Quite clearly, you had succeeded.

Toby’s reluctant to pull away, content with just lazily sliding his tongue against yours as you let out the sweetest noises that he just swallows right up. But, he does anyway, and a thin line of saliva connects the two of you for a moment as he pulls his head back.

Somehow, he looks even more smitten than before. “I think…” His fingers move, lightly scratching soothing patterns against your scalp. “I th-think we should have a later d-dinner. I don’t really want t-to let you move any time ss-soon.”

You let out a soft giggle and nod, easily conceding as you snuggle into him further. Your head comes to rest on his chest once more, and you breathe out a soft little sigh. His hand slides upwards, gently petting the top of your head.

“Sounds good to me.” You murmur.

Toby lets out a tired little hum, letting you lounge against him as his head tilts back once more - resting against the cushions. He can feel your heartbeat thumping against his skin, the weight of your body against his a comforting pressure.

His eyes flutter shut, and he lets out a tired breath.

He’s asleep mere moments later.

—————————————————————————☆

HOOOOOWEEEE I had a BLAST writing this! loved this concept so much I banged this whole thing out in a couple hours no breaks

something about a man crying and whimpering will do it to me every time

if any of you reading are waiting for me to post part two of my one toby fic it is being edited as we speak! just wanted to get a few asks done first - thank you for being patient <3

and as always thank you for reading!

[lexiputellas]

Unfinished Business

Part 1

Today’s morning was uneventful. Routine, even. You woke up, got ready, debated between waves or a ponytail, eventually choosing waves. Breakfast was a slow affair, each bite dragging as if delaying the inevitable workday. By the time you arrived at the office, coffee in hand, you had fallen into your usual rhythm—settling in, checking emails, and, most importantly, catching up with the receptionist.

She has a new boyfriend. Or maybe he’s just a lover. She hasn’t quite decided yet, and you, naturally, need to know all the details. Maybe that was your mistake—getting too involved in gossip. If you had been more focused, you might’ve avoided what happened next.

You glance up and see Paige walking into the reception area. It’s been a few weeks since your last encounter, and you had convinced yourself that was the end of it. Apparently not.

She hasn’t spotted you yet. Maybe you should leave.

Shit—she sees you.

You try to read her expression, to gauge what kind of thoughts are running through her head. She turns to the receptionist and speaks first. “I have a meeting with…” She checks her phone. “Ah, my new agent. He should be expecting me.”

Thank God. It’s with your boss, not you.

Then she shifts her attention to you. Your mind races through every possible worst-case scenario, but she just gives you an easy smile and says, “Hi, I’m Paige. And you are?”

You blink. You know she knows exactly who you are. You also know what she’s doing.

“I’m part of the compliance team,” you answer.

Her smirk deepens. “Oh, so you do contracts?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, hope to see you more often.”

You have no words. None at all. You manage a polite excuse and retreat to your office, collapsing into your chair, replaying the entire interaction in your head.

Are you screwed? No. Definitely not. You mean, probably. Just not in the way you’re thinking right now.

You take a deep breath and sip your coffee.

The morning after, you did what any sane person in your situation would do—you told Paige to leave. Well, actually, you demanded it. Were you a little harsh? Probably. Did you regret inviting her over? No. But should you? Absolutely. It wasn’t professional.

With that, your mind drifts to past mistakes.

Do you have unresolved emotional issues? Absolutely. Did you break up with your ex because you thought she was about to propose? Yeah. Yeah, you did. Turns out, you were right—she was planning to propose.

But right now, you need to focus. You take another sip of your coffee, trying to snap yourself out of it.

And that’s when you see Paige again.

You nearly drop your cup.

She leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, amusement flickering in her eyes. “Wow. Didn’t know I was that scary.”

You set your coffee down before you actually spill it. “You’re not. I just… wasn’t expecting you.”

She raises a brow. “Expecting me to find out that you work for this agency?”

You huff out a laugh, rubbing your temples. “I mean, that too, to be fair.”

Paige steps further into your office, casually looking around before meeting your gaze again. “So… what are the chances you’re handling my contract?”

You shake your head. “That would be my boss.”

She grins. “Good. I’d hate for this to be awkward.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Right. Because it’s not awkward already.”

She leans over your desk slightly, lowering her voice just enough to make your pulse jump. “I have a feeling we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other.”

You roll your eyes, trying not to let her get to you. “I guess so.”

She tilts her head. “We should go out.”

You blink. “What?”

“You know, a drink, dinner, something fun.”

You scoff. “No.”

She looks amused. “No?”

You shrug. “I mean, I don’t see why—”

Paige smirks. “Maybe I should ask my agent to put you in my contract, you know, so we see each other really more often.”

That strikes you. No. No, you do not want to be in her contract.

You narrow your eyes. “If I go with you, will you drop this?”

She grins, triumphant. “Well, yes. But only if I choose the place.”

You sigh, defeated. “Fine. Just tell me the day, the time, and what I’m supposed to wear—because I’m not going anywhere undressed.”

Paige’s smirk turns downright mischievous. “Tonight.”

You blink. “What?”

She leans against your desk, clearly enjoying this. “I’m picking you up at eight. Wear anything you want. You look hot in anything.” Her gaze flickers over you, lingering just long enough to make your skin heat up.

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. “I mean, I know that. But oblivious as I am, give me a hint.”

She grins. “Something fancy, but not that fancy.”

You groan, already regretting this. “So, cryptic. Great.”

She winks. “See you at eight.”

And just like that, she’s gone, leaving you staring at your coffee, wondering what the hell you just agreed to.

Obs: This is a series, I’m not really good at tumblr, so bare with me! The reader (or OC, still undecided) works in the contracts department of an agency for professional athletes. She doesn’t interact with them directly—she just handles contracts. Meanwhile, Paige has just been drafted to her new team!

[ivyues]

Hotter Than Expected - Bang Chan

How you found out your boyfriend can’t handle spicy food.

You and Chris had been dating for a little while now – long enough to feel comfortable around each other but still new enough that the little things felt exciting. Tonight, he was over at your apartment, lounging on the couch while you scrolled through your favorite food delivery app.

“Alright,” you said, clicking confirm on the order. “I hope you like this place. Their food is amazing.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” Chris replied, giving you that warm smile that always made your stomach flutter. “What did you get?”

“Just some of my usual favorites. I think you’ll like it.”

“How’s the spicyness?” he asked, leaning forward with genuine interest.

You laughed lightly, shaking my head. “It’s got a little kick but isn’t too bad.”

He nodded, seemingly unfazed by your comment. Little did you know, Chris wasn’t exactly the best with spice. But wanting to impress you, he figured he’d be fine.

When the food finally arrived, you both sat down at the table, the aroma of the meal filling the air. Chris took his first bite, and at first, he thought he could handle it. But then the heat hit him. It crept up slowly, coating his tongue in a fiery burn that only intensified with every second. His eyes widened slightly, but he tried to play it cool.

“Oh,” he murmured. “Oh, wow.”

“How is it?” you asked, happily eating your own food.

“Good!” he said, voice just a little too high-pitched to be convincing. He grabbed his drink and took a sip, but it did little to help. Still, he was determined to push through. He took another bite—

Mistake. Big mistake.

The heat doubled. His mouth felt like it was on fire. He shot up from his seat, the chair lightly scraping against the floor. You blinked, confused as he started pacing back and forth, fanning himself with his hand.

“Uh… are you okay?” you asked, concerned.

“Y-yeah, totally fine,” he choked out, but the glint of sweat on his forehead and the way he was now grabbing his shirt, pulling it away from his burning skin, said otherwise. “It’s so hot in here.”

You stared at him for a second before realization dawned on you. “Oh my God, is it too spicy for you?”

Chris opened his mouth to argue, but at that moment, the heat surged again, and he had to take a deep breath as he ran his hand through his hair.

“Okay, wait, I think I have some milk… or maybe bread?,” you said, trying not to laugh as you rushed to the fridge.

You handed him a glass, and he practically chugged it in one go. But even after that, he couldn’t sit still. He walked in circles, sat down, then immediately got back up again. At one point, he even lifted his shirt slightly, fanning himself again, but quickly let it go as if remembering that things were still new between you two.

You bit your lip, watching him with pure amusement. When he finally sat down again, you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“So…” you drawled, smirking. “You don’t manage spicy food very well, do you?”

Chris shot you a glare, cheeks flushed (whether from embarrassment or the spice, you weren’t sure). “Okay, first of all,” he said, voice still slightly strained, “this is not just ‘a little kick’. This is fire. This is lava.”

You burst out laughing. “Oh, poor baby. I didn’t think your spice tolerance was that bad.”

He groaned, dropping his head onto the table dramatically. “I wanted to impress you.”

“That’s cute,” you teased, reaching over to ruffle his hair. “But next time, we’ll make sure to order something mild for you.”

Chris finally lifted his head, blinking up at you. His lips were still tinged red from the spice, but at least he wasn’t gasping for air anymore. “I can feel my mouth again,” he muttered, sounding both relieved and mildly traumatized.

Unable to resist, you leaned in with a smirk. “... but for someone who handles spice so well,” you teased, raising a brow, “I’d think you’d have an easier time with a little heat.”

Chris groaned, but couldn’t help a small smile. “Not the same thing, and you know it.”

“Mmm, sure. Whatever you say, babe.”

masterlist

[levanterhaze]

── GAMEBOY, BANGCHAN

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬 fratboy!bangchan x f!reader dirty talk, masturbation, rough sex, slight choking, use of nicknames, overstimulation among other things I can't even name

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[10k words ]♡― once again, I must thank you all for your love and for continuing to enjoy gameboy! this chapter is a bit long, but for me it's interesting to write the development of the characters to get where we want to go! don't forget to listen to the playlist and those who just got here PLEASE READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS!!!! that said, have a good read.

♡― THE PLAYLIST.

♡ [part one] ♡ [part two] ♡ [part three] ♡ [part four]

On the corner of my bed Oh, and maybe on the beach You could do it on your own While you're lookin' at me

After absolutely killing your performance of Out Here On My Own, the applause hit you like a tidal wave. A standing ovation. Even Mrs. Baek looked mildly impressed, which, considering her usual stone-cold demeanor, basically meant she was internally sobbing.

And just like that, all the nerves? Gone. Vanished into thin air like they were never even there.

Bangchan had been watching—because of course, he had—but before you could revel in that fact for too long, he got a call and had to bounce. Typical.

You should have been freaking out about the whole making out backstage situation. Should’ve been scanning every corner for witnesses, mentally preparing for a campus-wide scandal. But weirdly? You weren’t. That reckless, confident part of you—the one still floating on cloud nine—did not care. If anything, you could still feel him. His touch on your waist like a phantom burn, his lips still branded on yours.

But whatever. You had bigger things to stress about. The final list wasn’t coming out until Monday, which meant you had the entire weekend to sit in pure, unfiltered agony over it. Luckily, Saturday’s party was the perfect excuse to get out of your head for a while.

Fast forward through a day of pretending to be studious with Sohee—aka desperately trying to focus while your brain replayed that kiss—you finally took a well-earned shower and decided to go for a solo nighttime stroll. 

Campus was still alive, students buzzing around in little clusters, laughing and talking like they didn’t have impending deadlines. You shoved your headphones in, following the athletics track, which was mostly empty by now.

The night air had that perfect, crisp breeze—the kind that made you grateful you threw on a cardigan. And just when you thought the moment couldn’t get any better, Wonderwall started playing. You smirked to yourself. Damn, you loved this song.

And yet, with every step, your brain kept poking at you like an annoying little sibling. Anxiety, sure. But let’s not forget the other mess currently occupying premium real estate in your mind—Hyunjin.

You hadn’t talked to him since you drunkenly spilled your guts, quite literally, about your whole Bangchan situation. And if you were being honest, which you weren’t, at least not with yourself, you were actively dodging that conversation. Because talking to Hyunjin meant facing your own feelings, and frankly, you were not clocked in for that emotional labor.

Your phone lit up mid-walk.

Mingyu: can I see you today?

You chewed on your lip, staring at the message. It was almost ridiculous how this boy—new, uncomplicated, and seemingly sincere—wanted something real with you. And yet, here you were, hesitating. Because no matter how nice Mingyu was, your brain wasn’t stuck on him.

It was stuck on someone else.

On a certain maddening, frustrating, insanely good kisser who had, at some point, tattooed himself onto your skin. If physical touch could be permanent, Bangchan’s hands would be everywhere on you. And, let’s be honest, you wouldn’t exactly be filing a complaint about it.

Before you even processed the decision, your feet had already made it for you. You were crossing campus, heading straight for his dorm.

Because you needed to talk. Like adults. No teasing, no sarcastic little jabs—just honesty.

And, okay, maybe you needed to see him, too. Feel him. More than ever.

Your determination was fuel to the fire already burning inside you. Your heart was pounding, your brain was screaming at you to calm down, but your body wasn’t taking any orders tonight. That feverish, all-consuming pull settled deep in your gut, an intoxicating mix of adrenaline, nerves, and something terrifyingly real.

You took the stairs two at a time, like the damn dorm might vanish before you got there.

By the time you reached his door, you were clutching your excitement close, biting back a smile even as your fingers trembled. Deep breath. You knocked, quick and sure.

It’s fine. He’ll listen. You’ll talk. You’ll finally—

The door swung open.

And instead of a tall, dark-haired boy, you were met with her.

She was pretty. Unfairly, effortlessly pretty—the kind of girl who belonged on magazine covers and in the daydreams of poets. Medium height, light hair, bright eyes. The kind of face men went to war over.

Your stomach dropped like a stone.

“Hi!” she greeted, all warmth and ease, completely oblivious to the way the air had just been sucked out of your lungs.

You swallowed, forcing a polite nod. “Uh, hey… is Bangchan here?”

She shook her head, smiling like this was just any other casual conversation. And that’s when you noticed it—his black t-shirt, draped over her frame.

“Oh, no. He went to grab some food.” she tilted her head, something curious in her gaze. “Are you a friend of his? Oh! Sorry—I’m Yeojin. His girlfriend. And you are…?”

Her words hit like a gut punch, sucking the warmth right out of your chest.

A bitter laugh bubbled up, but you swallowed it down, masking the sting with a tight-lipped smile. “A classmate,” you said smoothly. “I just had a question, but… I think it can wait till Monday.”

And just like that, the fire inside you? Extinguished.

The girl pursed her glossy lips, then nodded politely. “Okay. I’ll let him know you stopped by.”

“No need.” the words left your mouth before she could even finish. “Thanks, Yeojin.”

Her name felt like venom rolling off your tongue, thick and bitter, coating your mouth with something vile.

By the time you hit the stairs, you were moving so fast you were honestly surprised you didn’t wipe out. Your pulse was a hammer against your ribs, your breath uneven. Your brain hadn’t even caught up yet—stuck on a loop, trying to process the absolute train wreck that had just unfolded.

He had a girlfriend this whole time.

He lied to you.

He did exactly what everyone said he would.

The sharp sting of disappointment curdled into full-blown anger. Your steps turned heavier, each one smacking against the pavement like a silent war drum. You were so locked into getting to your dorm—so wound up with the need to disappear into your own space—you probably would’ve plowed through half a dozen people without a second thought.

But fate had a sick sense of humor. Because halfway across campus, you spotted him.

Bangchan, heading back toward the dorms, a paper bag dangling from his hand—food, obviously, because why wouldn’t he be casually picking up dinner while your world imploded?

His eyes lit up the second he saw you, but that moment of warmth flickered out fast when you didn’t even look at him. Didn’t slow down. Didn’t hesitate. Just walked right past him like he was nothing—like he was air—nearly clipping his arm in the process.

He stood there for two seconds, frozen, before spinning around. Your name tore from his lips, sharp and urgent.

“What happened?” when you didn’t answer, his voice shot up, strained. “Where are you going?”

You sucked in a deep breath, your whole body practically vibrating with anger. Then, before you could stop yourself, you spun around and marched right back toward him, each step digging into the grass like you were stomping out a fire.

“To my dorm,” you snapped. “Not that it’s any of your business. Oh, and fun fact—I just came back from yours.” sarcasm dripped from your voice like honey laced with poison.

Bangchan blinked, his brain buffering like a slow-loading webpage. The look on his face almost made you laugh—almost. Instead, you just smiled, sharp and humorless. Yeah, process that, asshole.

You turned to leave, but before you could, his hand caught yours. Not your wrist, like some desperate last-ditch grab—your hand. Like he meant it. And the second your skin met his, it was like touching an open flame.

“Let me explain.” his voice was tight, urgent.

“Don’t touch me.” you yanked your hand back like it burned. “I don’t give a shit about whatever excuse you’re about to pull out of your ass.”

His jaw clenched. “Can you stop being so damn stubborn and just listen to me for once?”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh, you wanna explain?” you licked your lips, tasting nothing but bitterness. “Go ahead. Explain how you had a girlfriend this whole time while you were fucking around with me.”

The words landed like a punch to the gut—on both of you.

Because, deep down, being with you had never been defined. No labels. No promises. No safety net to fall back on. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Bangchan’s brows snapped together. “What? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t even try it.” you scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re really gonna stand there and lie to my face? I saw her.”

His frustration bubbled over, his arms flying up in exasperation. “I genuinely have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.” his voice cracked with frustration. He looked at you like he was praying for some divine intervention to make sense of this mess. “If you’re talking about—”

“Just go back to your girlfriend and leave me alone, Bangchan.” your voice was steady, but he wasn’t stupid—he saw the fire still burning in your eyes, catching in the moonlight.

And maybe if he had taken half a second to think, he wouldn’t have said it. Maybe he would’ve swallowed his pride and stopped himself from making it worse.

But he didn’t.

“Whatever, right?” he scoffed, voice laced with something bitter. “It’s not like we were anything.”

You pressed your lips together, jaw tight, throat burning like you’d swallowed glass. And for the first time in your life, really the first, you felt so humiliated—so stupid—that your eyes burned with unshed tears.

Bangchan saw it. Saw the way your waterline glistened, saw the way your breath hitched, but you wouldn’t cry. Not in front of him. Not for him.

“If you really think that’s the problem, then that says a whole lot more about you than it does about me.” your voice was sharp, but quiet, like a blade sliding back into its sheath.

And just like that, the conversation was over.

You turned on your heel and walked away, each step fueled by a firestorm of anger, hurt, and something else you weren’t ready to name. Bangchan watched you go, standing frozen in place, and by the time he even thought about stopping you—

It was too late.

Outside your dorm, you yanked your phone out of your pocket, fingers flying across the screen like a woman on a mission. Your pulse was still hammering, adrenaline buzzing under your skin as you pulled up Mingyu’s contact and typed without hesitation.

You: Feel like crashing a party on Saturday?

Barely a beat passed before your phone vibrated with his response.

Mingyu: You had me at “party.”

Bangchan pushed open the door to his dorm with more force than necessary, letting it slam shut behind him. His pulse was still racing, his jaw tight with frustration.

And there she was. Yeojin.

Lying on his bed, scrolling through her phone like she owned the place. His old sweatshirt was hanging off her shoulder, and she barely spared him a glance when he walked in.

“Oh, you’re back,” she said, swinging her legs idly. “Didn’t take you long.”

Bangchan set his bag of takeout on the desk and exhaled sharply through his nose. “What the hell did you say to her?”

Yeojin finally looked up, her expression the perfect blend of innocence and amusement. “Say what exactly?”

His fingers flexed at his sides. “You know what,” he ground out. “You told her we’re together. Why?”

She tilted her head, brows lifting. “I never said that.”

Bangchan let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeojin, don’t play games with me.”

“I didn’t, Chan.” she sighed dramatically, stretching her arms over her head. “She asked if you were here, I said no, and I introduced myself. It’s not my fault if she jumped to conclusions.”

He clenched his jaw, glaring at her. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

She just smiled. “So what if it is?” her voice dropped, teasing, as she sat up. “You used to like when I messed with people.”

Bangchan took a step back when she reached for him, his whole body recoiling instinctively.

“We’re not kids anymore, Yeojin,” he muttered. “And I don’t have time for this.” he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. “I got Thai food. Help yourself.”

Before she could say anything else, he was gone.

The cool night air did little to calm Bangchan’s nerves as he walked toward the basketball court, fists shoved in his hoodie pockets. His mind was a mess, replaying the way you had looked at him—like he was exactly what people warned you about.

Before he could spiral further, a familiar voice cut through his thoughts.

“Damn, what’s with the face?” Changbin asked, appearing from the other side of the path. “You look like you wanna punch a hole in a wall.”

Bangchan exhaled sharply. “Not a wall.”

Changbin frowned. “What the hell happened?”

Bangchan hesitated before tilting his head toward the court. “Basketball first. Talking later.”

Changbin smirked. “I like where this is going.”

Fifteen minutes later, Bangchan sat on the edge of the basketball court, legs stretched out, elbows resting on his knees, looking like life had personally drop-kicked him.

Across from him, Changbin dribbled the ball lazily, waiting. And waiting. Until his patience ran out.

“So?” Changbin finally asked, passing him the ball. “Spill.”

Bangchan caught it, staring at it for a second before shaking his head. “Yeojin’s here.”

Changbin nearly fumbled the rebound. “I’m sorry—what?” his face twisted in immediate disgust. “What the hell is she doing here?”

Bangchan sighed. “She came to visit. Said she was in town. It’s been years, and I figured—whatever, right? No harm in catching up.”

Changbin let out a dry laugh. “No harm? Bro, she’s a walking red flag. Why would you even entertain that?”

Bangchan pressed his tongue against his cheek. “I don’t know, man. Nostalgia? I mean, we didn’t exactly end badly, we just—” he sighed. “Didn’t work.”

Changbin scoffed. “Yeah, well, I never liked her. You know that.” 

Bangchan dribbled once, then tossed the ball toward the hoop. It hit the rim, circled, then dropped through the net. “There’s more.”

Changbin folded his arms. “Yeah, no shit. You’re sitting here like you just found out Santa isn’t real. What else happened?”

Bangchan caught the rebound and exhaled. “She saw.”

Changbin frowned. “Saw what?”

Bangchan gave him a look.

“Oh.” Changbin winced. “Shit.” he let out a slow whistle. “That’s… bad.”

“No shit,” Bangchan muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “She showed up at my dorm, and instead of me opening the door, Yeojin did.”

Changbin groaned. “Dude. No.”

“Oh, it gets worse,” Bangchan went on, voice dripping with frustration. “Yeojin, being the manipulative little menace she is, basically introduced herself as my girlfriend.”

Changbin stared at him like he just admitted to murder. “And she believed that?”

Bangchan laughed bitterly. “Why wouldn’t she? The look she gave me, man… like I was exactly what she expected. Some asshole playing games.”

Changbin studied him for a second. “And that bothers you.”

Bangchan scoffed. “Of course it fucking bothers me.” he leaned forward, gripping the ball tight. “She drives me insane, Bin. Like—she acts like it’s nothing. Like whatever we had was just this casual, meaningless thing. But then she turns around and—” he exhaled sharply. “Her actions say otherwise. She looks at me like she feels something. She reacts like she cares. But every time I get close, she shuts it down.”

Changbin snorted, rolling the ball between his palms. “So basically, she’s bullshitting, you’re bullshitting, and now you’re both miserable?”

Bangchan shot him a glare.

Changbin smirked. “I mean, she won’t admit she likes you, and you’re sitting here trauma-dumping on me instead of doing something about it.”

Bangchan groaned, tilting his head back against the wall. “She’s pissed, Bin. Like, really pissed.”

“So fix it.”

Bangchan laughed humorlessly. “Yeah. Easier said than done.”

Changbin passed him the ball. “So what now?”

Bangchan caught it, staring down at the faded lettering on the rubber. That was the question, wasn’t it? Because right now, you wanted nothing to do with him.

And honestly? He deserved it.

Saturday morning. Group breakfast. Good vibes. At least, that’s what you were aiming for.

You were mid-story, telling Felix how the auditions had gone, when the universe decided to test your patience. Again.

Changbin strolled in with Jisung, Bangchan, and—you had to blink twice just to confirm—Yeojin.

Of course. Because it wasn’t enough that he lied. He had to parade it around like some kind of grand event.

“I need a fat slice of chocolate cake,” Changbin announced, dropping into his seat. “Something sweet to cleanse the absolute trash energy in the air.”

Your eyes flicked to Yeojin, who was standing a little too comfortably next to Bangchan. 

“Yeojin, long time no see,” Hyunjin greeted, all polite and civil.

She beamed. “Hyunjin! Oh my God, it’s really you!” she gushed, voice dripping with enthusiasm. You wanted to be a girl’s girl, really—you did. But something about her tone made your eye twitch.

“Who’s that?” Sohee whispered, not even bothering to be discreet.

“Oh, nice to meet you,” Yeojin said, flashing a smile that felt way too rehearsed. “Yeojin. Chan’s friend.”

She said it like she was accepting a damn award. The table went dead silent. Everyone shared a look.

You, however, remained completely unbothered, taking a slow sip of your strawberry milk like you had all the time in the world.

Bangchan slid into the seat across from you, throwing not-so-subtle glances in your direction—just in case you maybe wanted to acknowledge his existence.

You didn’t. Instead, you busied yourself with literally anything else. The napkins. The straw in your drink. The slow, satisfying process of ignoring him.

If he wanted your attention, he’d have to earn it.

Yeojin was annoyingly easy to get along with. Effortless charm, perfectly timed laughs—like she’d studied the art of socializing and graduated top of her class. And maybe that wouldn’t have bothered you if you didn’t feel an immediate, inexplicable urge to dislike her.

Maybe it was the way she smiled just a little too much. Like she was in on some inside joke that no one else was laughing at. Or how she leaned into Bangchan like he had his own gravitational pull, always conveniently this close to falling into his lap.

For someone who had been so desperate to explain himself last night, he looked awfully comfortable letting her cling to him now.

“So, everyone’s going tonight, right?” Jisung asked, drumming his fingers on the table.

Yeojin jumped on the conversation like it was an open invitation. “What’s tonight?”

“Jisung’s DJing at a party,” Eunji answered, taking a sip of her drink.

Yeojin hummed, tilting her head in that thoughtful but not really way. “I was going to leave after lunch, but… I guess I can stay a little longer.”

She glanced at Bangchan like she was waiting for permission.

Too bad he wasn’t paying attention. His focus was glued to his phone, fingers tapping out a message.

Your own phone buzzed in your pocket.

Bangchan: can we talk?

Your eyes flicked up, purely on instinct. And there he was. Watching you.

You frowned, pulled out your phone, read the message, and stuffed it right back in your pocket. No response.

The table blurred into background noise. Laughter, conversation, the occasional clatter of silverware—it all melted into static. Because Bangchan was still looking. That steady, expectant stare that made your skin itch. That made your chest feel a little too tight.

Your phone buzzed again.

Bangchan: you can’t ignore me forever.

Bet.

You smirked to yourself. If Bangchan thought he could tell you what to do, he had another thing coming.

Grabbing the strap of your bag, you stood up, all casual confidence, and turned to Sohee and Eunji. “I’m heading out with Hyunjin.” no further explanation. Just a statement.

Hyunjin, caught in the crossfire of whatever this was, frowned. “Wait—what? Since when?”

You just kept walking, tossing a grin over your shoulder. “Since right now. Just smile and act natural.”

 You made sure to take the long way around the table, passing directly in front of Bangchan—not looking at him. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment. Just air.

Hyunjin, still struggling to keep up, shot a quick glance back before leaning in. “Okay, seriously, what was that? Bangchan looked like he was about to start breathing fire.”

You flicked your hair over your shoulder, your smirk widening.

“Revenge, Hyun. Just a little harmless revenge.”

The house was packed.

Neon lights flickered wildly, splashing the room in chaotic waves of electric blue and fiery red, pulsing in sync with the bass. The air was thick—heat, sweat, cheap cologne, and the sharp sting of alcohol weaving together into something intoxicating. The floor thrummed beneath your boots, bodies moving in effortless rhythm, a silent agreement to just let go.

Jisung was at the DJ booth, throwing in ad-libs between transitions, hyping up the crowd like he was born for this. A remix dropped, shaking the walls, and the entire party roared in approval. Off-campus ragers had a way of making reality blur, like stepping into a fever dream.

Perfect.

Eunji and Sohee spotted you first, their eyes going comically wide, like they’d just witnessed the second coming of Christ.

“Jesus, look at you,” Sohee gasped, gripping your arm for dear life.

Eunji gave a solemn nod. “This outfit should be illegal.”

You twirled, just enough to let your skirt flare out, a little reminder of why you picked it.

“Drinks first, right?” you pointed at Hyunjin, who gave you an approving nod.

You peeled away from the group, squeezing through the sweaty crowd toward a corner where a massive keg stood like a beacon of bad decisions. There were stronger drinks, but you decided to take it easy—for now.

Then, in half a second, you felt it. Like your body already knew, like a moth drawn to a flame.

Under the pulsing red lights, he looked dangerous. A predator in slow motion, moving through the crowd with that effortless, lazy confidence that made people either run toward him or clear a path. Flashes of white and blue caught the sharp cut of his jaw, the faint sheen of sweat at his collarbone. A contrast—razor-edged and infuriatingly soft all at once.

And yet. You couldn’t focus on any of that.

Because Yeojin was practically clinging to him.

Talking—laughing, leaning, performing—but Bangchan barely seemed to notice. If anything, he looked somewhere else entirely. Somewhere you were. Because the second your eyes met, his focus locked in.

And he started moving. One step. Then another.

But before he could take a third, an arm slid around your waist.

Mingyu.

His touch was warm, firm—a perfectly timed lifeline. His lips brushed against your ear, voice low and deliberate. “Have I mentioned you look insane tonight?”

A slow, satisfied smile curled on your lips. Perfect.

Through the neon haze, you caught Bangchan’s reaction over Mingyu’s shoulder. Electric blue light flickered across his face like something straight out of a movie scene.

Oh, he was pissed. Not just annoyed. Not just irritated. Seething.

Jaw clenched. Shoulders tight. Eyes locked onto you with an intensity that sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

Good.

Mingyu pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “Dance with me?”

You let the question hang, stretching the moment just because you could—fully aware of your audience. Then, with a casual flick of your fingers, you grabbed Mingyu’s wrist and turned back to your friends.

And that’s when the remix hit.

The song of the summer. A full-blown club anthem blasted through the house, lights flashing in sync with the bass, and suddenly Eunji and Sohee were dragging you onto the dance floor. You barely had time to toss Mingyu a look before pulling him into the crowd with you.

Sohee was already wrapped around her boyfriend’s neck, hair flying as she danced like she was possessed, while Minho just laughed at her antics. Jisung was losing his mind behind the DJ booth, hyping up the party like a man on a mission.

And Bangchan? He didn’t move. He just watched.

Watched as you danced. Watched as Mingyu’s hands found your waist. Watched as you threw your head back, laughing, moving with the beat like you had nothing to prove.

And under the pulsing red lights, with silver glitter catching on your cheekbones, you didn’t just look good. You looked untouchable.

And he looked like a man about to start a war.

You spun around, arms draped over Mingyu’s shoulders as his hands trailed down to your waist, pulling you into the rhythm. To anyone watching, you two looked dangerously close—every move synced, every touch easy, like this was something more than just a party moment. But in the back of your mind, a small, annoying voice reminded you that this wasn’t about Mingyu at all.

Still, too late now.

The strobe lights flashed in bursts, making everything feel like a glitch in time—jumping, dancing, bodies moving like there was no tomorrow. You lost sight of Bangchan for a while, which was probably for the best. So, you let go. Had fun. Actually enjoyed yourself with your friends.

Until someone slammed into you, knocking the air right out of your lungs.

One second, Mingyu was right there. The next, he was gone, practically launched across the floor. “What the—” you barely got the words out before you saw the damage.

Changbin stood there, wide-eyed, drenched in a suspiciously pink drink, looking like he just survived a battlefield. And Mingyu? Equally soaked, equally stunned, like he was still processing what the hell just happened.

“Dude, shit—sorry!” Changbin shouted, voice barely cutting through the music.

You blinked, taking in the absolute mess before turning back to him. “Are you good?”

Changbin nodded rapidly, looking between you and Mingyu like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or start running. “Yeah, yeah, my bad!”

Then he turned back to Mingyu, hands up like a man pleading for his life.

Mingyu just let out a sigh, lifting the hem of his now ruined white T-shirt like he was mourning a fallen soldier. “Alright. I’ll be right back,” he said, shaking his head before disappearing into the crowd.

Meanwhile, Changbin grabbed your arm, his expression serious—well, as serious as someone drenched in a neon-pink drink could look. He gestured for you to follow, weaving through the bodies until you reached the foot of the stairs.

“What?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Can you grab me a shirt? I left one in Jisung’s backpack.”

You took a second to assess the situation. Changbin, slightly tipsy, covered in pink, blinking at you like a lost puppy. He looked ridiculous.

With a dramatic sigh, you caved. “Fine.”

“You’re the best,” he said, clasping his hands like he was praising the heavens. “It’s in the room on the right, upstairs.”

You turned, climbing the stairs while dodging couples making out on the steps like it was some kind of kissing marathon. Once you reached the hallway, you scanned the doors—long corridor, a few rooms—until you spotted one slightly open on the right.

Alright. In and out. Quick mission.

Stepping inside, you started searching for Jisung’s bag—first the floor, then the bed. Nothing.

And then—

Movement.

From the corner of your eye, a figure emerged from behind the bed, rising like a shadow from the dark.

Your breath caught. Bangchan. Standing there. Watching you.

A black cable twirled between his fingers, slow and deliberate, his gaze unreadable under the dim glow of the hallway lights.

“What?” you were the first to break the silence, arms crossing instinctively. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Bangchan gave you a flat look, holding up the black cable like it was evidence in court. “I should be asking you that. I came to get Han’s charger.” he raised an eyebrow, gaze sharp, like he wasn’t entirely convinced.

You opened your mouth, fully prepared to deliver something scathing—but before you could get a word out, the door swung open again.

“Sorry, kids! Not opening this door until you sort yourselves out!”

You barely had time to process Changbin’s smug, drunken grin before the door slammed shut.

For half a second, you froze.

Then you launched at the door, fists pounding like you could open it through sheer rage. “Changbin, open this fucking door right now!”

No answer. Just the distant thrum of music, too muffled for anyone outside to hear you scream bloody murder.

You yanked at the handle—definitely locked.

With a sharp inhale, you turned, glaring daggers at Bangchan, who was just… standing there. Watching. Amused.

“Are you just gonna stand there? Do something!”

His lips twitched, like he was this close to laughing. “Pretty sure this is your problem, not mine.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Oh, so now you don’t wanna get involved?”

Bangchan sighed—slow, exaggerated—before strolling up to the door, resting a lazy hand on the knob, and giving it a completely useless jiggle. Then he turned back to you with a straight face.

“Yeah. It’s locked.”

You stared at him. Blinked. Then scoffed so hard you nearly choked.

“No shit, Sherlock. Are you serious?”

Bangchan couldn’t help it—he laughed. Because you were spiraling, and honestly? It was funny as hell.

“I’ll call him,” he said, still smirking.

You rolled your eyes so hard they nearly left your skull and made your way over to the double bed in the corner. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, collapsing onto the edge like this was some Shakespearean tragedy.

Then a thought clicked, and suddenly, everything made sense.

Your head snapped up. “Wait—” you shot to your feet, eyes narrowing. “He knows. You told him.”

Bangchan barely looked fazed. “He kinda figured it out on his own, if that makes you feel any better.”

Which wasn’t exactly a lie. Bangchan was so into you, stealing glances constantly, and Changbin wasn’t stupid. The man could read a room like it was his job.

You dragged a hand down your face, exhaling sharply. “This is a nightmare.”

Bangchan tilted his head, amused. “Jesus, is it really that bad being stuck in here with me? Last time, you weren’t exactly complaining.”

The second those words left his mouth, you hit him with a look so deadly he immediately shut up.

“Just get Changbin to open the damn door, Bangchan,” you said flatly, plopping back down onto the bed, dead center, legs crossed like you were settling in for a long, miserable wait.

You pulled out your phone, thumbs flying across the screen as you sent a message to Hyunjin—the only person who knew about the whole situation. You could have asked Sohee, Eunji, or even Mingyu, but that would just open a very annoying can of worms.

And you were not in the mood for questions.

This couldn’t be real. No way. The second you got out of here, Changbin was getting his ass handed to him. And Mingyu was probably already wondering where the hell you’d disappeared to. Just like Yeojin was probably searching for Bangchan.

Perfect.

“He’s not answering,” Bangchan announced, completely unfazed. “Which means he’s ignoring me on purpose. So, we wait.” he sat by the window like it was just another Tuesday, leaning back on his palms.

“This is your fault.”

That earned you a scoff. “How the hell is this my fault?”

You shot him a glare. “If you hadn’t spilled everything to him, none of this would be happening.”

Bangchan let out a dry laugh, tilting his head like you were so predictable. “Right. And if you hadn’t jumped to conclusions without actually listening to me—like you always do—none of this would be happening either.”

Oof. Direct hit. You hated when he had a point.

“I have nothing to hear from you,” you muttered, crossing your arms and staring at literally anything else in the room.

Silence.

Annoyingly, maddeningly, deafeningly loud silence.

Bangchan rested his arms on his knees, watching you like he had all the time in the world. And pretending he wasn’t there, yeah, that was a joke. His presence was like gravity—pulling, heavy, impossible to ignore.

Less than ten minutes passed before the anger started simmering down. Because that’s how it always went with him. Like a fire that burned too hot, too fast.

“You seriously thought she was my girlfriend?”

You turned, locking eyes with him. “What else was I supposed to think? She said it herself.”

Bangchan hummed, tapping his fingers against his knee. “She’s not. Yeojin’s an ex—from high school. Ancient history.” he exhaled sharply through his teeth. “She’s just… a little clueless.”

“A little?” you let out a sharp laugh. “She was wearing your clothes when I showed up at your dorm.” you rolled your eyes, but Bangchan only smiled. Because, yeah, that sounded a whole lot like jealousy.

Then something clicked. “Wait—what were you doing there that night?”

“Nothing.” you looked away, ignoring the sudden heat crawling up your neck.

His laugh was soft, almost teasing. But the way he was looking at you? Like you were the only thing worth seeing? That was dangerous.

“C’mon. Seriously.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes, because he was so annoyingly persistent. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Doesn’t it?” Bangchan tilted his head, lips curving in that cocky little smirk. “I doubt that.”

“Well, I don’t care,” you shot back, folding your arms in defiance.

Bangchan pushed himself off the floor, moving to sit on the edge of the bed—close, but not too close. Still, he was big. Broad. Built like a problem. And despite the space between you, he somehow took up all of it.

Worse? He smelled stupidly good.

“What do you want?” you asked, bracing yourself for the answer—because Bangchan was stupidly honest, and you weren’t sure you were ready for whatever was about to come out of his mouth.

But he didn’t say a word. Just kept looking at you, pupils blown wide, gaze slow as it dragged over your face like he was trying to memorize every detail.

Then, finally— “Why’d you come that night?”

You swallowed. “I went because… I wanted to talk. And… I wanted things to be okay between us.”

For a second, he just stared at you like you’d punched the air out of his lungs. Because you had gone after him. To fix things. To close the distance.

“You wanted to?” you barely nodded before he let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Well, we’re two idiots, then.” his lips curled slightly, his whole energy shifting. “Because that’s all I want.”

Your eyes locked, and something about the way he was looking at you made your chest tighten. He had this insane ability to make you feel completely seen, like he could pick apart every thought in your head just by watching you.

“Why?”

Bangchan was never one to hold back, never afraid to be himself—especially when it came to being honest about what he wanted. And right now, he was this close to just laying it all out. Because the truth? He was ridiculously into you. More and more, every damn day.

“You’re stubborn, and I’m an idiot,” he muttered, lips pressing into a thin line before he let out a short laugh. The kind that made you laugh, too, before you even realized it. And honestly it pissed you off a little how easily he could do that—swing you from one extreme to another like it was nothing.

“Look,” he sighed. “I’m just gonna be straight with you, like I always am. I’m not playing games. I didn’t mean it when I said we were nothing.”

“But we are,” you mumbled, even though the words tasted like a lie. You weren’t anything. No labels, no relationship. Just a mess of late nights and tangled sheets—until things got way too complicated.

“I don’t want us to be nothing,” he said, shrugging, like he was just casually throwing his cards on the table. “Because ever since that first time, I haven’t wanted anyone else.”

Your breath caught, and suddenly, the bed felt too small, the room too warm. What the hell? You hadn’t expected this conversation to go there.

Bangchan? Not with anyone else? That was news. The guy was basically campus royalty when it came to hookups. Half the girls in your year had probably been in his dorm at some point.

And now he was sitting here, telling you this?

But now he was standing there, saying it out loud—no one else. Just you. And it sent your stomach into a tailspin.

“I shouldn’t have given you shit for it,” you muttered, nodding like that would somehow make the awkwardness go away. “I mean, since we’re not… you know.”

Bangchan lifted an eyebrow, clearly amused by how flustered you were.

“Oh, I know,” he said. “But you don’t get it. I don’t want anyone else.”

Your pulse spiked. Too fast. Too loud. What the hell was he trying to say?

“No, you’re just—” you let out a breathy, nervous laugh, stepping back like that would help. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bangchan didn’t let you go far. His hand caught yours, warm and steady, fingers wrapping around your wrist before he pulled you closer—right between his legs.

And then his hands were on your waist, fitting there like they belonged.

Your breath hitched.

His voice, suddenly lower, smoother, like silk wrapped in heat. “I know exactly what I want.”

Your eyes met his, and damn it, he was beautiful. That kind of beauty that wasn’t just about sharp jawlines and perfect features—it was something deeper, something that burned. The way his eyes locked onto you, glowing under the dim light. The way his expression was serious, but there was still softness lingering beneath it.

You knew what you wanted too. You just weren’t ready to admit it.

Your hands moved before your mind could catch up, tracing the curve of his brow, the sharp edge of his cheekbone—slow, like you were trying to memorize him by touch. Then, without thinking, you cupped his face, thumbs brushing over his skin.

Bangchan didn’t pull away. Didn’t even flinch. He just leaned into your touch, like this was normal, like you did this all the time. But you didn’t. Not like this.

Then he kissed the back of your hand, soft and slow, and damn it, you smiled.

“Say what you want,” he murmured.

“I…”

“I don’t care if I’m your dirty little secret,” he cut in, voice rough, low, burning at the edges. “I don’t care about any of it. As long as you’re mine, I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.”

Something shifted inside you—hot, sharp, irreversible. Like a match hitting gasoline.

Bangchan tilted his head, pushing a strand of hair from your face. “What are you so afraid of?” his lips curled into a half-smirk. “You hate me that much?”

You let out a breath, shaking your head. “I don’t hate you.” your fingers tightened against his jaw. “Not even close.”

Bangchan pulled you in, arms locking tight around your waist, pressing you so close you could feel every breath he took against your skin. A shiver shot down your spine, anticipation curling in your stomach. You were teetering on the edge, seconds away from giving in—giving him everything. And if he was willing to take whatever you had to offer… What was stopping you?

With one swift move, his hands traced up the back of your thighs, fingers pressing into the sensitive skin behind your knees, guiding you onto the bed and onto his lap. The air between you shifted, crackling, something unspoken but heavy settling in the space only you two could understand.

It was automatic—this need, this burn. Like gravity, like the sky being blue, like the way your chemistry was always one spark away from setting the whole place on fire.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, yanking back just enough to force his eyes on you. And God, he looked wrecked—vulnerable in a way that made your stomach flip, pupils blown wide like he’d already lost the battle.

That’s when you kissed him.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was desperate—a clash of want, frustration, and every second of tension that had built between you. Like a wave crashing against the shore, wild and uncontrollable. You rocked against him, fingers tightening in his hair, barely biting back a moan when his hands gripped your ass, lifting you further into him.

Your skirt had already ridden up, but Bangchan wasn’t complaining.

He knew exactly what he was doing—kissing, nipping at your skin, hitting every spot that made you gasp. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more. More contact, more of him.

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt, tugging it up with shaky hands. Bangchan barely hesitated, lifting his arms, muscles flexing as he pulled the fabric over his head. The low, guttural sound that left his lips sent a shiver through you—deep, raw, almost primal. And God, he looked unreal.

“You want me to stop?” he murmured against your lips, voice thick with restraint.

You shook your head immediately, body betraying you with the way it trembled against him.

“I can stop,” he teased, but this time, the possibility made your stomach flip. Your eyes snapped to his, filled with something dangerously close to panic.

Stepping back, just for a second, you took him in. And no matter how many times you’d seen him like this, you never quite got used to it. All of him. Broad, sculpted shoulders, solid arms, every inch of him screaming strength. And all of that was yours.

Bangchan smirked, eyes narrowing with smug satisfaction. “You look like you want something.”

You huffed a laugh, shoving him back. “Shut up.”

But before you could move away, his hands gripped your waist, pulling you down with him. You landed against his chest with a startled yelp, his warmth pressing into you.

Then he kissed you—slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every second, every breath, as if the night stretched endless before you, mapping every inch of your lips with his own. Your laughter faded, swallowed by him.

Pinned against him, you could feel the effect you had on him, the heat of him beneath dark denim. And if there was one thing you knew, it was how to push him over the edge.

So you kissed him harder, rolling your hips against his.

His hands flew to your ass, squeezing before delivering a sharp slap that had you moaning into his mouth. That was just how it was with you two—obscene, messy, utterly shameless. And nothing turned you on more.

Your fingers found the zipper of his jeans, finally breaking away from his lips to look down at him. Bangchan pushed up on his elbows, watching you through half-lidded eyes, his breath ragged as he fought to stay still. His fingers twitched, desperate to put an end to the torturous wait. He was so hard it was unbearable—just seeing you like this had him on the edge.

He didn’t hesitate to help, making quick work of what little fabric still separated you. And fuck, you were drenched. Just the sight of him like this—wrecked for you—had your whole body tightening in anticipation.

There were so many ways this could go, and you wanted them all. One night would never be enough.

Your hand wrapped around him, firm, deliberate. A shaky curse tumbled from his lips, his head tipping back as he melted into your touch. He was barely holding it together when you lifted your hips, and for a second, he thought you were going to sink down onto him. Instead, you slid against him, rolling your hips so he could feel everything—dragging over your entrance, teasing up to your clit before sliding back down.

“Holy shit,” Bangchan groaned, voice strangled.

His hands twitched, reaching for you, aching to do something. But before he could, you leaned in, pinning his wrists down against the mattress.

He was at your mercy now. Completely helpless. And he fucking loved it.

Meanwhile, your hips kept moving, sliding over him, teasing but never giving in. The sheer size of him, the way he dragged against your clit with every slick roll of your hips—it was maddening. You lost all sense of rhythm, chasing pleasure in short, frantic motions, needing more, always more.

Bangchan was wrecked beneath you. His breath came in ragged bursts, his chest rising and falling as he groaned through clenched teeth, letting you take what you wanted. And the sight of him like this completely undone because of you? It was enough to make your head spin.

Your wetness mixed with his pre-cum, making a mess between you, the heat of it dizzying. Another deep grunt tore from his throat, and fuck—his orgasm was creeping up way too fast. He wasn’t about to let that happen. Not yet.

Your grip on his wrists loosened, your body trembling above him, so damn close—

“Want me to fuck you?” the words were a rasp, low and filthy against your skin.

And God, hearing him say it like that, made you feel absolutely ruined.

You were right there, wavering on the edge, but then—Bangchan’s hands gripped your waist, flipping you with ease. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he pulled away, standing at the edge of the bed.

For a second, frustration flared hot in your chest—he’d just ripped away a mind-numbing orgasm—but the way he looked at you, eyes dark and full of promise, made it clear.

He wasn’t done. Not even close.

With impressive speed, Bangchan yanked your panties down, leaving you in nothing but that tiny skirt. You reached for your blouse, tearing it off without a second thought. Meanwhile, he fished a condom from his pocket, standing at the foot of the bed like he owned the place.

You bit your lip, taking in the sight of him—so big, so stupidly gorgeous.

Bangchan climbed onto the bed, his strong hands wrapping around your thighs, keeping them pressed together. His voice was low, commanding. "Spread your legs."

Your breath hitched, but you obeyed, parting them slowly. The skirt inched higher, higher, until it was bunched up around your waist.

He muttered something under his breath, gaze locked on how wet you were—for him. Almost dripping. You bit your lip, the weight of the moment thick in the air. "Please..."

Bangchan leaned in, kissing your stomach, then up to your chest. One arm braced against the bed, the other gripping himself as he brushed his cock against your cunt. The slow drag, the teasing, was cruel, and he knew it. He was watching you unravel—your body torn between frustration and aching need.

You were this close to grabbing him, to taking what you needed, but before you could, he caught your wrists in one hand, pinning them down.

"I'll let you..." his voice was a husky whisper, dark and full of promise. He kept that agonizing friction going, dragging against you, just enough to drive you insane. "But you have to tell me."

You were burning up, mind hazy, barely able to process his words. "Bangchan," you tried for something firm, but the second the tip of his cock rubbed against your clit—just the right mix of pleasure and frustration—a strangled moan slipped out instead.

"Tell me what you want, and it's yours," he murmured against your lips, smug as ever.

Your gaze met his, dark and needy. He picked up the pace, teasing you mercilessly—only to stop again. You let out a desperate whimper. This was torture.

"Just say it, love."

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, frustration bubbling over. "Your ego is too big."

Bangchan chuckled against your skin, stealing a quick kiss. "You know what else is big?"

You hooked a leg around his waist, pulling him in close. His breath caught, and for a second, he just looked at you—lips parted, eyes searching yours, ready to dive in.

"Guess you'll have to show me."

And Bangchan never turned down a challenge.

The moment he let you go, he was all action—rolling on the condom with practiced ease before yanking you flush against him. "Gonna fuck you so good you'll take it all back."

Then he slammed into you, deep, all at once, knocking the breath from your lungs. Stars burst behind your eyelids. Fuck, you’d never get used to the stretch. And neither would he, not with how tight you clenched around him, inch by inch.

Bangchan started slow, deliberate, watching every little reaction like he was committing it to memory.

"More," you gasped, nails dragging down his back.

And who was he to deny you?

A low, guttural curse slipped from his lips as he gripped the back of your leg, struggling to keep himself in check. But even he was failing. That dark, insatiable hunger inside him wanted to ruin you, break you apart piece by piece, and devour whatever was left.

"Yeah..." his hand found the back of your neck, and in one brutal motion, he buried himself to the hilt. Your eyes rolled back as a cry of pure pleasure ripped from your throat. "Fuck."

He did it again. And again. Testing you. Seeing just how much you could take. And then restraint snapped—his rhythm shifted from slow, deliberate thrusts to deep, relentless strokes that had you gasping, moaning, melting beneath him.

Your lungs fought for air, your body wrecked by the force of him. A tangled mess of curses and broken sounds spilled from your lips.

Bangchan leaned down, catching your mouth in a searing kiss, fucking you through every ragged breath. The filthy, desperate moans leaving his lips had you clinging to him, desperate to consume every last one.

"Bangchan—my God!" your fingers dug into his back like an anchor, but you were weightless, floating, dissolving into nothing.

You tried to pull him closer, but he straightened, still gripping your throat, keeping you right where he wanted.

"Say it." his thrusts were brutal, hitting so deep you thought you’d break apart. Faster. Harder. You cried out, a mess of pleasure and desperation, dizzy on the edge of something devastating."Tell me— you want me? Wanna cum on my cock?"

Your vision blurred, the sheer intensity forcing a tear to the corner of your eye. It was too much, but not enough, never enough.

"I want you," you choked out, voice ragged, shaking. "Fuck—" you barely finished the sentence before your body gave in, collapsing into pure, obliterating pleasure.

Bangchan caught your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on it before murmuring against your mouth, “Good girl.”

Then his hand slipped between your bodies, finding your clit as he thrust into you, his fingers moving in tandem with his strokes. And that was it. The tipping point. Your back arched, but he pressed a firm hand to your stomach, pinning you down as pleasure overtook you. The last few thrusts sent you spiraling, your body clenching tight around him as you came hard, waves crashing over you.

Bangchan cursed under his breath, his grip tightening as his own release hit him like a freight train. "Fuck, fuck, fuck—" his whole body tensed, abs flexing as he emptied himself, barely managing to keep from collapsing on top of you.

Your chest rose and fell in sync with his, both of you wrecked, tangled, completely undone. He was so close, his forehead pressing against yours, damp hair sticking to his skin. And just like that, you kissed him—slow, deep, something unspoken passing between you. A shift.

Something had changed, and you both felt it.

"We need to stop doing this," you muttered against his lips.

Bangchan pulled back slightly, his brows knitting together. "What...?"

"Having sex in strangers’ rooms," you teased, the corner of your mouth quirking up. "Bad habit."

Relief flickered across his face before it was replaced by something far more dangerous. "Then let’s go to mine," he said smoothly, his voice thick with intent. "I’m not done with you."

You just laughed, shaking your head as you reached for your clothes. No argument, no teasing comeback—just that breathless, satisfied chuckle that told him you were just as wrecked as he was. And God, he admired you. The way you moved, the way you carried herself, as if what just happened was the most natural thing in the world. Like you hadn’t just left him completely undone.

He leaned back against the bed, watching as you slipped your blouse on, covering up inch by inch what he had just memorized with his hands, his lips, his tongue. A damn shame.

“I could go like this all night,” he murmured, voice thick with lust. His eyes dragged over you, slow and deliberate. “I’d never get tired of you.”

You paused for half a second, then, with a smirk, you glanced at him over your shoulder.

“Sweet talk won’t get you another round.”

He grinned, unbothered. “Who said I was asking?”

"Alright, lover boy," you sighed, straightening your skirt. "Call Changbin so we can get out of here before we end up adding ‘breaking and entering’ to our list of bad decisions."

But Bangchan just huffed out a laugh, reaching into his back pocket. You frowned, watching as he pulled out something small, something metallic—

And then he dangled a tiny key in front of your face.

Your breath caught. "You absolute—"

"Had the key the whole time?" he finished for you, grinning like the unapologetic menace he was.

You just stared at him, utterly gagged. "Are you telling me we could’ve left at any time—and you let me believe we were locked in here?!"

Bangchan had the audacity to laugh, and before you could get a single word of protest out, he grabbed your wrist, yanking you against him and crashing his lips onto yours. You let him. You melted into it, kissed him back like you weren’t even a little mad.

When he finally pulled away, his breath ghosted over your lips as he murmured, "I’m sorry, baby." But he was still laughing. Not sorry at all.

"No, you’re not," you shot back, trying—and failing—to sound pissed.

"You’re right," he admitted without shame, pressing another kiss to your mouth, slower this time, smug and indulgent. "But, in my defense… I knew you wanted me just as bad as I wanted you."

You narrowed your eyes, heat licking at your spine because—damn it—he wasn’t wrong.

Cocky bastard.

Still, you snatched the key from his fingers and shoved him toward the door. "Move before I leave your ass locked in here and tell everyone you cried for help."

Bangchan just smirked, twisting the doorknob with infuriating ease. "Joke’s on you—I’d make it sound sexy."

Bangchan slipped out first, leaving you alone in the dimly lit bedroom, the air still thick with everything that just happened. You took a breath, running a hand through your hair and letting out a low, incredulous laugh. Insane. That was the only word for it. Completely, absolutely, batshit insane.

You took your time freshening up before heading downstairs, blending back into the party like nothing happened—like your whole world hadn’t just been flipped on its head by a cocky bastard with unfairly good hands.

You found the drinks and poured yourself a beer, the cold liquid grounding you, when Hyunjin appeared at your side, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Mingyu was looking for you,” he said, tilting his head. “For a while. Then he gave up and left.”

You took a slow sip of your beer, carefully masking any reaction. “Huh. Tragic.”

Hyunjin squinted. “Okay, where the hell have you been?”

You shot him an easy smirk. “In the bathroom, Hyunjin. I have bodily functions like every other human being.”

His eyes narrowed further. “For that long?”

“Maybe I got lost,” you said with a shrug, taking another sip. “Or maybe I was reevaluating all my life choices.”

Hyunjin was still staring at you, unconvinced. “You were with someone.”

You huffed. “Stop being nosy and dance with me.”

Before he could pry any further, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him onto the dance floor. The bass thumped through your veins as you moved to the beat, thankful for the temporary distraction. But Hyunjin was sharp—too sharp. His gaze flickered to something over your shoulder, and then his lips parted in realization.

You didn’t have to turn around to know. You felt it.

Bangchan was across the room, talking to Changbin and Seungmin like he hadn’t just been inside you not too long ago. But the way he looked at you—steady, knowing, like he was still feeling every second of what just happened—Hyunjin caught it immediately.

“No way.” he gaped at you. “You didn’t.”

You met his stare, unfazed. “I did.”

Hyunjin groaned, rubbing his face like this was his personal crisis. “You two are so fucking messy.”

You just laughed, finishing the rest of your beer. “And yet, I’m having a great time.”

A while later, when you finally decided you’d had enough social interaction for one night, you nudged Hyunjin. “I’m heading out.”

He nodded. “Cool, I’ll get you an Uber. I’ll go with Lix.”

Before you could even reach for your phone, a familiar voice interrupted. “No need.”

Bangchan. Standing way too close, hands in his pockets, looking like the devil who got exactly what he wanted.

“I’m driving back,” he said smoothly. “I’ll take you.”

Your mouth opened, but Hyunjin’s eyebrow was already rising, looking between the two of you like he had front-row seats to a drama he needed to see play out.

“I can go alone,” you said, keeping your voice level.

Bangchan smirked. “I insist.”

You sighed, side-eyeing Hyunjin. His expression was nothing short of feral with interest.

“Fine,” you muttered. “But no funny business.”

Bangchan only chuckled, walking off first. You lingered behind for a few beats before following, slipping out quietly, only Hyunjin watching your exit with a smug, entertained look.

He was never letting you live this down.

The night air was sharp against your flushed skin, a cruel contrast to the heat still licking at your nerves. Bangchan stood by his car—a sleek, black beauty that suited him too well. Under the dim glow of the streetlights, he looked almost unreal, all sharp lines and confidence as he pulled the passenger door open, his gaze never leaving yours.

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to get in. But because you knew—the second you did, there’d be no turning back from whatever the hell this was becoming.

Bangchan saw right through you. He always did.

His voice dipped low, rough with amusement. “Get in, baby. Or I’ll put you in myself.”

Your stomach flipped. You rolled your eyes, masking the way his words sent a pulse of heat straight through you. “Such a gentleman,” you muttered, but your lips twitched, betraying you.

Still, you slid into the seat, the cool leather kissing your bare thighs. He followed, reaching over—closer, closer—until his fingers brushed the seatbelt, tugging it across you.

And suddenly, the air inside the car felt thick. Heavy.

His breath ghosted over your collarbone, close enough that his lips could’ve skimmed your skin if you so much as moved. You could feel the warmth of him, the way his fingers lingered just a second too long before clicking the buckle into place.

Your throat went dry.

You cleared it quickly, forcing out something—anything—to cut through the tension threatening to swallow you whole. “I’m exhausted.”

He pulled back just enough to smirk. “Sure you are.”

The car hummed to life, but your brain? It was shot to hell.

Because now you had to sit there and endure the sight of him driving one-handed, muscles flexing, veins peeking through his skin like temptation itself. It was obscene, the way he handled the car—like he did everything else. With control. With ease.

You swallowed, shifting in your seat, pressing your legs together.

Bangchan noticed. Of course, he did.

His smirk deepened, eyes flicking toward you before drifting back to the road. “Something wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lied, voice far too even to be convincing.

He made a sound, low in his throat, clearly unconvinced. Then, like he lived to ruin you, his hand dropped to your thigh—warm, steady, fingers pressing just enough to make you feel it.

Your breath hitched. “Bangchan.”

He leaned in slightly, just enough to let you catch the edge of his scent—clean, intoxicating, laced with something that made your pulse stutter. His thumb stroked slow, lazy circles against your skin.

“You’re always ready for me, aren’t you?” his voice was nothing but a taunt, silk-wrapped sin.

A shiver licked down your spine. The worst part? He was right. And he fucking knew it.

His fingers crept higher, brushing against the inside of your thigh, deliberate and slow. “I could fuck you right here,” he murmured, his breath feather-light against your ear. “No one would see. No one would know.”

Your body responded before your brain did, every nerve alight, screaming at you to let this happen.

But you had to be smart. For once.

With every ounce of restraint you had left, you grabbed his wrist, halting his movements before they ruined you completely. “I have to go.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, eyes dark, unreadable. Then, his lips curled—not in disappointment, but something far more dangerous.

“Fine.”

But before you could breathe, before you could move, he reached for you, tilting your chin up with maddening ease. His gaze locked onto yours, deep and knowing, before his tongue swept over your bottom lip, slow, deliberate, claiming.

Then he kissed you. Deep. Slow. Devastating.

By the time he pulled away, you were wrecked. Breathless.

“Goodnight, baby,” he murmured, unlocking the door like he hadn’t just unraveled you in a single move.

You barely remembered getting out, legs weaker than they had any right to be. As you walked back to your dorm, dazed and burning, one thought rattled through your skull like a warning you’d never heed:

He’s gonna be the death of me.

♡ taglist ― @kenia4@chrizrizz @meerabmalik @gnabnahcsworld @gncbnahc @jinniejjam @skzworldx @itsacatastrophe-xo @soonie1010 @4ng3l-ch1ld @justwonder113 @tsunderelino @eastjonowhere @lyracarvahall @akindaflora @victoriaaf @ebnabi @wickedbutlovely @bitchysunflower11 @grandpasb0ng

[threepandas]

Bad End: Happy Wife

Thirteen servants were dead; Two estates on fire.

I never even made it to the gates.

The smell of smoke lingered in the air. Clung to his hair and skin, even after bathing. Because no amount of scented oils, scrubbing, could erase his sin. The scent of iron and cooking flesh. Cruel scents of ancient houses ablaze. Innocent people being slaughtered. For... for the crime of trying to help me.

It was all my fault.

Last time, I had escaped alone. Or... more laughably, he had let me escape.

So he could hunt me through the forest like a brightly colored deer. Some pretty prey to stalk and torment. Letting me exhaust myself. Run and run until I could no longer, before casually strolling up to come collect me. As though letting me get it out of my system. A man, merely humoring his wife's tantrums and overly dramatic, willful ways.

I never should have accepted help. No matter have lonely I was. How desperate my despair. Because... because-!

"I'll get you new ones. Don't be upset, Love." The monster that was my husband, said idly. His voice a low rumble like thunder, his so called 'sweet' tone. "Servants that can't obey their lord, can't be trusted. Shouldn't be kept. They were scum. I'll get you better ones."

Ha ha... more like, servants that obeyed him. Feared him. Had no shred of mercy or honor, left in their bones. Gods... I... I had condemned thirteen good souls. All for trying to help me. Save me. Just for trying to get me out of this hell and away from this man.

I would never forgive this life's sperm donor, for handing me over. Because... because after a betray like that? After I had begged? Begged and screamed, rioted and tried to run? And STILL he handed me over? He was no kin of mine. I had no family.

Not in this life.

My family may not have been perfect. May have been flawed. But they would never have handed me over to a psychopath. Sold me to the highest bidder, like chattle. And... and honestly? I would take them at their worst, over these bastards at their best.

I never should have read that STUPID book. Yeah, maybe, it had nothing to do with anything. Maybe, all it would have done is left me ignorant on top of being stranded. But? I had to blame something. Or I'd go insane. So it was the fucking book's fault.

Recommend by an internet friend. Historical fiction. Lots of complex characters and some spicy yandere. How FUN. Court intrigues! Poisonings! Bastards and hidden births! Great to read... literal hell to live through. Everyone wanted everyone fucking dead, and all I wanted? Was to marry far, FAR into the countryside. Live a boring ass life.

But apparently I blinked funny. Or was standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. Wore the wrong fucking dress (well, not dress, but you get the idea). Because next thing I knew? Yandere Sr., of Yandere and Yandere, is looking at me! And not in that "oh, what an interesting bug" sort of way! Look looking!

I didn't know shit about him! Yes, his son. But him? Nothing!

Well... aside from the fact he was a VERY convenient Widower. Like... the SECOND he got a kid out of his arranged wife. It was all very "everyone suspected but no one could prove shit" Sort of thing.

And? Said son? Becomes a major antagonist in the book. Until he "embarrasses" his Father by going too far. Implied gruesome end to follow. Plot moves on. Which? Is all well and good FOR THEM. But what about me?! I had nothing to go on! Aside from "Aaah ha ha ha! Run." Which? Didn't fucking help, in the end! Still... s-still ended up married.

Though, my new "son" ended up dead, in relatively short order. Apparently wasn't too pleased to have a step-mom. Tried to do something about it. Disappeared between one day and the next. And now no one is allowed to so much as talk about him. But hey! It's apparently fine! Because at some point? We're gonna make a better one!

"Your thoughts are far away, Love. Should I help you concentrate?" Husband muses, from the edge of the bed. I jerk back as I jolt violently to the present, focusing on the threat. He looks pleased. "Better~, this wife should focus only on her Lord. And yet... once again she's wandered. Tried to run. This lord wonders what he should do, hmm?"

Scrunched up in a ball on the bed, I hoped the answer was fucking "nothing". Or maybe, perhaps, "leave". Inching backwards, like the hunted animal I felt like, I wasn't fast enough to avoid the hand that shot out. Capturing my ankle in shackle strong grip.

It wasn't crushing. Left no bruises. Yet the touch felt scalding, as his hand imprisoned yet cradled my ankle. Dragged my leg free of my curled up little ball of self. I froze, as I felt his other hand gentle running the tips of his fingers up and down my shin. Up and down, up and down. As though just feeling my skin.

"Should he make sure his wife can not run?" This grip tightened, nearly bruising. His other gripping farther up my leg. As though casually preparing to snap bones. "Or perhaps, he should chain you away? Hmm? This Lords wife is a troublesome girl. Causing trouble as she does... ah~, what to do with her..."

Terrified, sat froze. Mind numb. Please. Gods. Please, please, please! D-Don't. I was shaking. Could feel tears starting to build. Watched, helplessly, as he examined me. Something pleased, satisfied even, creeped into his expression. And without breaking eye contact, he lifted my leg towards his face, to gently kiss the skin right above my ankle bone. It could have been tender... if it didn't feel like a threat.

"This wife is so very lucky, that this Lord loves her so. That he would never."

It was almost mocking, in how sweet the words curled. As though suggesting that because this one thing was too far, he was a good man. As though suggesting that he would do far worse to others, in my place. But don't worry. You won't be hurt. See how benevolent he is?

"But come, let us not discuss your punishments tonight, hmm?"

Like a predator, stalking his prey, he crawled up onto the bed. Closer and closer. There was no where to run. Was this it? W-was this the day he... he-? Looming, on his knees, above my curled up ball of fear, he effortlessly worked his arm in and around my waist. Dragging me closer. All but into his lap.

"You are tired. Upset. Have made such messes for this husband to clean." He murmured, face pressed close. Breathe ghosting against my neck, my ear. All I could smell was rich soaps and smoke. "We can deal with this tomorrow. For now, it's time for bed. So go ahead, rest sweetly in my arms, Love.

"It's where you belong."

[papercorgiworld]

hi!! Could I request a fic with like Mattheo and Theo, or either of them. The reader wears glasses but only for reading stuff so her "friends" makes fun of her and Mattheo or Theo comforts her?? Love your fics xx

I got this request a century ago, but I promised myself I would only post this if I finished the second request as a way of keeping myself motivated... Did not really speed up the writing process, but here we are! The good news is: I finished the second request... bad news, I will only post it if I manage to finish the third request.

Anyways, thank you for the request and I'm sorry for my absence, I hope you've all been well. Either way you all deserve the world and lots of happiness. Sending you lots of love! AND of course: Happy Readings!

Merlin, she looks beautiful

Reader that needs glasses with Mattheo or Theo

Gently you stroll through the endless bookcases searching for something that would help you and your friends with your Transfiguration’s group project. “Found it.” You mumble to yourself, thinking that no one would hear you. However, a sneaky slytherin was adoring you from a bit further. Lounging with his friends in a corner of the library his eyes traced you until Draco snapped his fingers. “You’re gonna start drooling if you don’t stop that.” Your eyes move to the laughter but you can only guess what it’s about.

Your friends groan as you drop the books on the table. Honestly you weren’t excited about it either, but the work had to be done. Everyone grabs a book. Flipping through the pages you quickly spot an interesting chapter. You squint your eyes as you try to read, cursing yourself you grab your bag searching for your glasses. You blink, remembering how much more fun reading is when you don’t struggle with every letter. 

Merlin, she looks beautiful. 

Your one paragraph in when your vision gets misty. Confused, you take off your glasses and everyone at your table starts laughing. The person opposite of you had used a spell to fog your glasses to everyone’s amusement. 

You felt your insecurities peak. Wearing glasses was new for you and you hadn’t quite adjusted to life with them, feeling a little stupid. “What’s up with the glasses? Are you going blind?” Someone at the table quipped, making the others chuckle. Instead of explaining why you had to wear glasses you just fell silent, everyone staring at you until you finally stuttered some words out. “I’m gonna read this later. I need to meet up with someone.” You could hear the snickering as you left the library. 

You feel your heartbeat quicken and turn around a corner, pressing your back against the wall you try to calm yourself. You look down at the glasses in your hand and for a moment you stare up the staircases. If you would go up and drop your ugly glasses, you would be rid of them forever. It wasn’t going to work like that, but for a second it seemed like a good idea to just pretend like you didn’t need them.

Theo

POV: Theo watching you when you hurried of the library, clearly upset.

You sigh and turn to continue walking without having anywhere to go, but suddenly you feel magic tug at you. You’re swirled around so that you’re now face to face with Theodore Nott. “Ey bella, you seemed upset when you left the library.” You blink staring at Theo who you had never known to show emotion leave alone concern for you. “Uhm… no it’s fine. I’m good.” You nod a few times as a way of convincing him, compensating for your shaky voice. “You forgot this.” Theo shows you the case for your glasses. You stare at the pattern, a bit concerned about whether or not he thought it was cute or not. You mentally cursed yourself for caring about what Theodore Nott thought of you simply because he was a popular guy. “Oh yeah, I forgot. Thank you.” You reach for the case but Theo immediately lifts it higher and out of reach for you.

A slytherin bully playing around was really the last thing you could use right now. Even though Theo and his friends were notorious for causing trouble, you had always been spared from it… that is until now. “Can I please have it back?” You bravely ask, stressing the please and hoping that the slytherin would be merciful. “Only if you promise to find some better friends.” You meet his eyes and he can see the clear confusion. “They make you feel unhappy with yourself. You make yourself small when you’re around them, I’ve noticed and I don’t like it. So promise me you’ll hang out with other people.” Your eyebrows knit together. “You noticed? Have you been watching me or something?” At your question Theodore's confident smile turns into a nervous chuckle. “I’m allowed to admire beautiful things, am I not?” His eyes look at you with cheeky innocence. 

You blush and bite your lip. “Admiring, huh?” Theodore smiles at you and hands you the case for your glasses. “Yes… and I hate it when others dim your light.” You look away from him as you put your glasses in their case. “My friends aren’t that bad. The glasses just make me look silly.” Theo shakes his head at your words and closes the distance between the two of you. “I disagree.” His voice is raspy and you can’t believe the slytherin heartthrob is standing so close to you. “Bella, look at me. You’re gorgeous. Glasses or no glasses, you turn heads when you walk by.” You drown in his eyes as his words soothe all your insecurities. Theo gently pushes your chin up. “Promise me that you’ll hang out with better people.” He whispers with an enchanting voice. When you nod, he smiles and takes a step back. “Good.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and winks before walking away.

There’s a silence as you stare at him with dreamy eyes. “Hey.” You suddenly say, to your surprise, out loud.” You can feel your heart thump loud when he turns to face you. “Can I hang with you?” The left corner of Theo’s mouth tugs up and his hand leaves his pocket gesturing for you to come with him. “Of course. I don’t mind. I could admire you all day.” You bite your lip to try and hide your happy smile and walk with him. 

Mattheo

POV: Mattheo anything but pleased with your snickering friends as you leave the library with teary eyes.

“There you are.” You wouldn’t have thought those words were meant for you if you weren’t the only one there. With dumb eyes you stare at none other than Mattheo Riddle. “You alright, love? You seemed upset when you left the library in a hurry.” Your eyes widen at the realisation. You thought you were hiding it well but it was probably obvious to anyone with proper eyesight that you were close to crying when you practically ran out of the library. Mattheo took your silence as an invitation to get closer to you. Significantly closer. It made you worry what people would think if they saw you so close to him. Hogwarts loves juicy gossip. 

“You look gorgeous with or without glasses so don’t worry about it.” Mattheo smirks, confidence radiating off of him. Not knowing how to take the compliment, you chuckle and look away from the handsome slytherin towering over you. “Didn’t your mother teach you not to lie?” You replied jokingly, but as soon as you meet his eyes you realise that considering who you’re talking to that it was a really bad joke. Your eyes fill with panic as you question whether to run or apologise. Meanwhile Mattheo lips form an amused smirk and his eyes playfully watch your nervous figure. “Not really, I was thought to never get caught in a lie. But what I said about your glasses was not a lie. It was a compliment. You’re gorgeous. Don’t doubt that, love. However, when the professors ask me later if I had anything to do with turning your friends’ hair into snakes, I’ll lie without shame.” Your mouth drops when you hear his confession. You immediately forget the sweet things he just said and panic. “What! Oh Merlin, no! Why did you do that?” As you try and walk away, back to your friends Mattheo stops you. “They deserve it and you know that. You don’t need glasses to see that they’re not real friends.” He’s still holding onto your wrist when you move closer to him. You let your head hang in defeat for a moment. “Yeah, you’re probably right. But still no reason to hex them.” 

You give Mattheo a judging look, but your soft smile gives away that you don’t really mind that he hexed them. His eyes land on your smile as he chuckles. “Hexes were invented specifically for people like them.” You shake your head but at the same time you feel yourself drawn to him. His hand moves from your wrist to your hip. “You’re stunning. So don’t ever let anyone make you feel bad about yourself.” 

Just when Mattheo is about to make a move Pansy’s coughs, making you jump and take a step back. Standing at the end of the hallway, a very sassy looking Pansy darts her eyes between you two. “Am I interrupting something?” She asks with obvious fake innocence. You immediately shake and say your goodbyes to Mattheo. 

“What did I ever do to you, Pansy?” Mattheo asks after he watched you leave. “I think it was something you said in first year.” Pansy bluntly answers before walking away. Mattheo nervously chews his lips wondering if you were okay and curious if you had felt the heat as much as he did.

***

You had gotten so flustered after Pansy had caught Mattheo and you so close together that you went to hide in the bathroom for a few minutes. Feeling fresh and calm you step outside again, only to realise that you were late for class. You rush in to find Mcgonagall stare at you in disappointment. “Let’s not waste anymore time standing there. Take a seat.” You nod, wanting to disappear now that the whole class is staring at you. You look to your left to see Mattheo sitting alone. Puppy eyes locked onto you.

Look at his eyes!!!!

You freeze as you feel the heat on your cheeks return. I must look like a tomato. Mcgonagall turns away from the board to see you still standing up. “Miss (l/n), is there a problem?” Her stern voice sends shivers down your spine and you feel like you’re a first year again. Within seconds you're seated next to Mattheo with your books in front of you. “Hello again.” Mattheo whispers amusement ringing in his voice. You nervously flip through the pages. “Chapter 4 and don’t forget your glasses.” Mattheo whispers, you softly chew your lip as you fumble to get your glasses. “I think you look cute with them.” At those words you turn to Mattheo with glasses, blushed cheeks and wide eyes. He gives you a cheeky wink… and that class you did not hear a thing the professor said to you.

Picture 1: I lost the source, sorry 😞

Picture 2: https://pin.it/57e7ZitKL

Picture 3: https://pin.it/5i3RGZvgQ

Picture 4: https://pin.it/37cX6axUM

[graciedollie]

I was thinking like...reader using a vibrator controlled by a control, they're in the middle of a family dinner...(Grayson has the controller🙈)

Tantalizing

pair: grayson x fem!reader

summary: you and your wife were happily invited to your parents house for a nice dinner—seemed pretty innocent, why not? That was until your wife decided to have a little fun with you..

warnings: 18+ content, vibrator usage, public sex (sorta???), Grayson is a tease, and praise ofc (we love to see it), finger-sucking (i worded that so weird. god help me).

a/n: yall i’m sooo sorry that requests are coming slow but i’m trying to get back in the groove :3 (lowkey may or may not be short, who knows???)

The air filled with savory meat and sweet apple pie that your parents had prepared for the little dinner they invited you and your wife to—it felt like you were a little girl again when you took a bite of your mom’s famous apple pie. Though it was nice to be back home, you couldn’t help but look over at Grayson with a nervous glance as she eyed you like a hawk. Her expression remains stoic, besides a small smirk etching on her lips before she turned away to chat up a storm with your parents.

“It’s lovely for you to have us over—it’s been so long since i’ve had your pie, still taste delicious as ever.” She was charming and polite, that’s what mainly caught your mother’s attention with Grayson while your father attention was on her work—he was pretty invested. They chuckled and shared small jokes as you continued to eat your meal happily, engaging in here and there. “Well, it’s been so long since you came by, Dear. Almost as if you forgot about us!” Your mother joked as she patted your cheek, which you smiled at before she pulled away.

“Yes ma’am, I know. I—mgh!” Your words were cut off with a stifled groan as you felt the vibrations buzz up within you—the vibrator that Grayson happily stuffed your cunt with before you both left the house and wanted to see how you could keep the little act up. Your mom raised a brow at your behavior, looking at you with concern and confusion.

“Everything alright, honey?”

“Y-yeah, mom. I’m just…it’s just those d-days..” Your mother stared at you longer before nodding slowly, almost as if she didn’t really buy it, but didn’t wanna push further on you..

Grayson eyes peered over at you, glinting with mischief and intrigue—you can tell she was honestly getting a kick out of this. She slid over to you with a faux concerned expression as she would lean close to your face, placing her hand on your thigh, but inched up subtly to your heat.

“Is everything alright, love? Don’t look too good yourself, hm?” Oh, she was good. She was an asshole, but you loved her still. “Y-yeah…’m fine, baby.” Your hands fondled at the hem of the table skirt, eyes being unfocused, and thighs squeezing together as the vibrator angled to that one spot—making a small whimper slip, but quickly covering it with a cough.

“I-I’m just—“

“I’ve got her covered. She’ll usually get nauseous or such at times, I’ll just take her to the bathroom.” She butted in with a warm smile, caressing your cheek as her eyes peered into yours with something unreadable before leading you to the bathroom up the wooden, creaky stairs. It was honestly a miracle on how your parents just didn’t question it further—since they were too busy with trying to learn about the latest news and all that jazz.

Oh how lucky you both were.

“Grayson, p-please—mphf!!”

Was all you could whimper out as she pumped the vibrator in and out of your sopping cunt, making your whines and moans get louder till she placed her warm, large hand over your mouth. “Shh, you really want them to hear you like this, baby? Hm?”

Her words flowed into your ears as her words were husky coo, shaking your head feverishly as your eye rolled to the back of your head as she would randomly speed up only to slow back down. “Yeah, I know, baby…” Her lips peppered your ear with kisses before trailing to your neck, but being careful not leave marks—just the sweet kisses. “You’re so pretty, love—even did so well for me. So proud of my sweet girl…” The way her words were melting your head was damn near criminal, but god you loved it.

Your walls pulsated around the vibrating girth, allowing the obscene squelching to fill the room along with your muffle moans and whimpers of either protest or pleasure—perhaps both? You were sure you were bound to get caught, but part of you didn’t even care and just wanted that release like a dog wanted a bone. “Shh…I know, honey. You’re doing so good for me—ah, ah, don’t start the complaining.” Her words were gentle, but also firm whenever you would start the usual muffled complains as you were scared of getting caught—however that didn’t convince her whatsoever.

The gentle thrust soon became more deep and hard before she gave one rough thrust and only keeping the vibrating tip at the spongy spot of your g-spot, making your body lock up and eyes fluttered to no end. A muffle squealed was heard from you as your walls pulsated like crazy as you felt that band in your stomach tightened and tightened. She moved her hand from her mouth on to your chin, forcing you to look at how your eyes were unfocused, lips swollen from biting them, and how your thighs trembled. “Oooh, look at that—there she is, my sweet girl. Such a sweet thing for me, hm?”

You could only nod your head frantically and whimper in the most downright pornographic, pathetic manner that even amused your wife. Your arousal leaked down the trembling muscles of your thigh as the pressure building within you became nearly unbearable and just made you want to scream—out of pure ecstasy and pleasure, that is. However, if that ever may happen, the fun would be too short lived.

“G-Grayson—please…”

Your eyes barely stayed focus as your vision started to blur with black and white spots till that band snapped in your stomach—climax hitting you like a brick. Your body slumped against the counter as your chest heaved heavily, gasping and whining unsteadily as the vibrating continued to send thrills through your wracked body till she finally stopped.

“Mhm, i’m here, love..” She whispered softly as she peppered gently kisses to your cheek, neck and ear before pulling away to clean you up and get prepared to go back downstairs to your waiting parents—only praying to the one who sits high and looks low that your parents wouldn’t notice how your thighs jerked here and there or how your eyes would dart to her with a knowing gaze.

Maybe you bit off a little more than you could’ve chewed.

hope you enjoyed bbys!! <3 (sorry if it seems a bit rushed or bad, we’re getting there!!)

taglist!! 🏷️ @maneskinwh0re @ivorydevil @jolenes-doppelganger @thesevi0lentdelights

[simplykaren]

My brain keeps chewing on this idea. In a lot of crossovers, Danny reeks of death magic, a.k.a. ectoplasm and the Infinite Realms. So, if the portal didn't outright kill Danny and didn't make him a halfa, it could stand to reason that he still suddenly finds himself with a surplus of death magic. Maybe he even generates it himself now. How ironic would it be for a descendant of witch/ghost hunters to end up with magic related to ghosts? xD

The death magic is what makes Danny such a compatible/desirable host for a possession too. Ectoplasm is what ghosts run on, and they can tap into a host's reserves if they have any. Until Danny can actually figure out how-to-magic, letting all that energy just...build up with no outlet probably wouldn't be conducive to continued living either. So, they both benefit from the occasional team up.

On the Phantom side of things, I got to thinking about how in fanon certain entities just spawn (as Neverborn) in The Zone as the personification of concepts or to fill specific roles (i.e. Clockwork being the Master of Time, etc.). And how Phantom has a protection Obsession in most stories. And well...shouldn't something like permanent portals have a guardian, a gatekeeper, so to speak? Vlad built his own permanent portal at some point after getting out of the hospital. It had to have existed for years for Vlad to establish his connections and gather all the lore and knowledge he had by the time Danny meets him in canon.

So, a permanent tear in The Veil appears, and The Realms form a ghost to protect the balance and guard the boundary. Except Plasmius chases him off. That's his portal, thank you very much, and he installed security. He doesn't need a doorman. Vlad's older and stronger than the newly formed guardian spirit and drives him away.

Phantom manages to avoid Obsession starvation following the tugs on his core to natural portals as they form and protects them while they exist. "Keeping" malicious ghosts from going through. (With how short a time natural portals remain open, most malicious ghosts don't get to them in time, but that's for the best while Phantom is still growing into his core.) Letting any ghosts that do go through know when it's about to close so they don't get stranded on the wrong side of The Veil. Keeping mortals from accidentally stumbling through and well...okay, he doesn't know what that much ectoplasm would do to a person, but something in his core tells him it would be bad, let alone if they got stuck Realms-side when the portal closed!

When a new, second permanent portal stirs, Phantom can sense it like a siren's song. He'd never flown so fast to reach the weak point in The Veil he knows it will open. Except, when it does, there's a young mortal trapped in the tear, and he's in so much pain. Phantom doesn't even stop to think before shoving Danny out of the portal. The teen collapses once free of the portal and doesn't move or breathe. Shoot, how do you help a mortal who isn't functioning properly?! Would Frostbite be able to help? Phantom had taken ghosts that got hurt in closing portals to The Far Frozen before, but those were ghosts. And there was still the nagging sense he shouldn't take the boy to the other side of the portal, that it wasn't safe.

Oh, thank goodness, there are footsteps coming down the stairs. Someone else must have heard the boy screaming too. Mortals should know how to help their own, right? Phantom turns invisible just in time to avoid being seen.

Phantom's relieved when he senses the mortal near the portal again a few weeks later. But...is a mortal supposed to feel so much like Death? Maybe Phantom would keep an eye on the young living, just to be safe. Especially since the mortals that made this portal have next to no security measures on it.

At least Plasmius had understood the danger of a permanent portal: malevolent and malicious entities have all the time in The Realms to reach it and find a way through. Phantom was going to have his hands full very soon.

I don't remember which fic I read it in, but Tim had a theory that Danny was a medium and summoned Phantom to possess him and fight off ghosts whenever Amity Park was attacked. Something about ghosts normally not being able to interact with the material plane and possession being more energy efficient and their "powers" being additive if the possessee was willing/not fighting the possession. Would also explain how Phantom wound up with so much Fenton tech.

Kinda sad that ended up not being the case in the story. I'd really love to read an AU that explores that.

[beuxwhoyouare]

The Innovation

We stood in a line waiting for Jordan to make his way towards us one by one.

“What’s your name, height, age, and role?” Jordan, the tall scientist and my relatively new friend asked me in a way that felt colder than our usual interactions.

“Riley Michael Kingston. I’m 5’ 10” 28 years old and I’m a research assistant.”

The latest cuts left our university’s research labs unable to pay lab participants. We had to get thrifty so some of the research assistants stepped up to be participants in one another’s projects. Admittedly I got to take part in one of the coolest ones left here. The creation of a semi-autonomous exoskeleton meant to help disabled people do things they currently couldn’t.

Jordan was so different outside of the lab, it was so weird to see him being so professional instead of being just chill. Up until this point we’ve tested limbs individually but today was going to be our first full exoskeleton tests. He’s been so busy this week working on preparations. Truthfully I didn’t know the full suit would require this much more prep but up until this point it’s been a pretty calm experience. Just coming in and doing remedial physical therapy routines with a mechanical limb for an hour.

Today we were apparently doing much more than that but I didn’t know how far we were going. I walked in to see the full exoskeleton hung up on hooks and wires.

“Strip down to your underwear, I have to place a few nodes on you to prepare you properly.” Jordan calmly directed.

“Oh? I didn’t know we were getting this intimate today. Also I thought this was an EXO-skeleton. Meaning it goes outside my limbs. It looks like you build a whole mechanical body?” I noted.

“It’s a lot more complicated than just an exoskeleton study. Also you’re gonna feel a little pinch with this neck node. It has a needle for monitoring. Don’t worry it won’t hurt once it’s in.”

Before I could interject to ask more, I felt the node get stabbed in.

Jordan guided me to an upright platform and instructed me to get onto it face forward to not obstruct the nodes. In an IV in my hand he injected something before I could question him again.

“Count backwards from 200.” Jordan told me.

I didn’t know I was going to be knocked out for this? But it was too late to object, I just obliged ignorantly. Before I knew it, I passed out but almost immediately I felt awake again, minus the sight. It felt like the haziness of a dream but the clarity of being awake.

“Oh he’s waking up, wait here. Riley you’re awake, good. Lemme turn that on so you can see again.” Jordan said coldly once again.

What does that even mean? Before I could ask, my sight returned but it felt very sharp? Like artificial and digital, very impersonal.

I tried to get up and move but was held back by the hooks…..and wires? Huh? As I tried to look down all I could see was translucent white covering a bunch of white wires. I was on the opposite side of the room I was on previously.

“What’s going on?” I said in a voice that sounded amplified more than projected through a diaphragm.

“Well it’s part of the experiment. I’m not exactly making an exoskeleton. The goal has been two pronged. One, to create a new corporal form to let people with terminal illnesses live longer and not be robbed of their lives. And two, program a learning model that can exist inside existing bodies of criminals that receive the death penalty. A perfectly good body shouldn’t go to waste just because the wrong person is piloting it. This way we can expedite reform. Take the broken parts out and put a brand new upstanding citizen back into the world.”

Riley put one and two together as he struggled on the wires. Part one of the experiment worked clearly. Somehow he was consciously inside of the full robotic body. But what about part two?

“…so if I’m part one did part two work?” I said as angry as this form would let me sound.

“Well let’s find out.” Jordan said walking across the lab to the area I was previously in.

“Okay open your eyes.”

The learning model doing as it was told like it’s programmed to do. Without the restrictive parameters of wiring, it looked down and managed to tilt its new form upward from the hooks. It raised its new head and looked right at Jordan with an empty look at its face that almost registered as a puppy dog face.

“Your name is Riley Michael Kingston. You are 5’ 10” 28 years old and you’re a research assistant. Please repeat your information and introduce yourself to this machine.” Jordan said as gesturing to me as he guided my former body in front of me to be able to see.

“Oh and take off your shirt.” Jordan slyly requested as a maniacal grin rose on his face knowing his request would be enacted.

“Hello. I am Riley Michael Kingston. I’m 5’ 10” 28 years old and I’m a research assistant.”

There were no organs inside of me but I was the closest I could be to feeling my stomach drop.

“Riley please go put on the clothes in that box over there we have to test your cognitive abilities. I need to speak to this machine briefly.” Jordan said, his words digging into me like a knife.

“Jordan I’m glad this all worked but what are you doing? Why didn’t you tell me this was the extent of the exp-“

“That’s enough.” Jordan flipped a switch turning off the hanging exoskeleton.

“Okay ‘Riley’ let’s see how much muscle retention there is in your new form.”

Jordan instructed the new Riley meticulously through an extensive exercise routine. The learning model may be good at listening but it’s not good at autonomy and human limits. His body yearned for water and a break but he continued to push it. As he broke a sweat, a limit was reached during a bench press that almost ended deadly. The new Riley knew it reached its limit and defied Jordan’s command for the first time.

Jordan was surprised at the first sign of autonomy and noted it. As he began firing question after question to ‘Riley’ about why he stopped. Jordan realized the learning model was quite literally learning limits and its own autonomy and realized it was evolving faster than he could’ve expected. He simultaneously feared the breakthrough while also fearing losing the new ‘Riley’s’ naivety.

“Alright let’s go for a swim. Put this on.” Jordan rushed to the pool for selfish motives.

Riley’s body was insane and Jordan knew the real Riley never saw him as anything more than someone he worked with. But Jordan couldn’t let that just be. As the learning model robotically maneuvered his new human form in front of Jordan, the scientist objectified his former colleague knowing there would no longer be repercussions. As they arrived to the private research pool Jordan instructed the model to turn around. He approached the new Riley and planted a kiss on his motionless lips.

There was no reciprocation and he knew he had to take matters into his own hands. He began graphically describing his dream night of carnal embrace with Riley to the learning model. Giving it a play by play on what to do, down to the kiss, the tongue motion, slight neck grab, exploratory hand movements, and even the moments they would both get hard. The moment Jordan said go, the learning model enacted every single action described.

Once Jordan unsheathed the speedo he forced ‘Riley’ to wear. He wickedly grimaced at the girthy sight before opening it to welcome the thick new pole down his throat. This was everything he ever wanted.

[satsugacafe]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐮 𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐢’𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞…

➳❥ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: I saw how somebody requested dating Hisagi as kyoraku’s daughter, so I was wondering if you could do head canons for being kyoraku’s daughter? Or maybe if you want to switch it up you can do head canons about captains and their daughters? ❤️

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: I decided to write for Kyoraku since he’s another fav of mine. Would love to see the old man with a kid of his own. This was an absolute ball to write. I loved this request!

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

˚₊‧꒰ა Growing up as Shunsui Kyoraku’s daughter meant an unconventional childhood in the Seireitei. He wasn’t the strictest parent, preferring a laid-back approach, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t fiercely protective. He was always keeping an eye on you, even when it didn’t seem like it.

˚₊‧꒰ა Much to Nanao’s chagrin, she would huff, adjusting her glasses, muttering about how you’d grow up too spoiled under his watch. Shunsui only chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. “Balance, Nanao-chan. A bit of leniency keeps the soul light.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Despite being a captain with endless duties, Shunsui made time for you in the most casual, almost accidental ways. You’d often find him lounging under a sakura tree, waiting for you after training with a lazy grin and a jug of sake, even if you weren’t old enough to drink. “Well, there’s my star pupil. How was the gruelling world of swordplay today? Did the dummy survive, or should we send a condolence card?”

˚₊‧꒰ა When you started learning Kido, he gave off the impression he was indifferent. But behind the scenes, he’d ask Nanao or Ukitake to check in on your progress and would act surprisingly impressed whenever you mastered something new. “Oh? You can bind someone with Hainawa now? You’ll have to promise not to use it on me, sweetheart. Your old man still needs his dignity.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Shunsui encouraged independence but secretly loved it when you’d come to him for advice, especially on anything tactical. He’d sit up straighter and explain strategies in the simplest way possible as if teaching you was the most natural thing in the world. “Fighting’s not just about swinging a sword, love. It’s a dance, and you’ve got to let your opponent lead—right up until you trip them.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He absolutely spoiled you when he thought no one was looking. When you were little, it was hairpins, books, or sneaky trips to the markets for sweets. As you got older, it turned into annoyingly perfect timing, like delivering tea just when you’d resigned yourself to going without. “Oh, this? Found it lying around. Lucky, isn’t it?”

˚₊‧꒰ა Protective dad Kyoraku? Absolutely! He knows that you can more than handle yourself and ward off unwanted suitors, but it’s in his nature to look out for his little girl. He does enjoy it when you tell him about encounters you’ve had with pushy individuals, leading to you standing up for yourself.

˚₊‧꒰ა Let’s not mention the trail of admirers you’ve gathered. It’s nice to know that you’re adored by many, but should the numbers become alarming, he’ll step in to keep it under control. He doesn’t need a horde of suitors and eyes trailing behind you.

˚₊‧꒰ა He does tease you should you have a secret admirer, brave enough to approach and send letters or poems and gifts. Of course, under all that teasing, he’s exercising patience and the urge to discover this person before you. He probably already knows who it is, courtesy of Nanao, and gave a talk beforehand.

˚₊‧꒰ა This man loves to scare your suitors, playfully of course, or not. You’re the only person who’s aware that his smiles and jokes contain underlying threats as he speaks with your admirer, crush or partner. “My only little flower in this scary world. If anything were to happen…well, let’s just say I’ll be using more than my zanpakuto. But hey, you’re looking after her, right?”

˚₊‧꒰ა Shin’­ō Academy years were a mixed bag for him. He tried to act like he wasn’t worried, but he hovered more than you’d ever seen before. You’d catch him watching your sparring sessions, and if anyone dared to push you too hard, they’d be met with his deceptively soft tone. “Careful now, that’s my precious girl you’re swinging at.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Whenever you faced setbacks, his usual laziness disappeared. He didn’t believe in sugar-coating things but had a knack for saying just the right thing to keep you going. “You know, even your old man fell flat on his face more times than I can count. But the trick is to laugh when you get up. Confuses the enemy.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He was surprisingly hands-off when it came to your decisions, even the big ones. If you chose to take on missions that were way out of your depth, he’d just raise an eyebrow and remind you of the risks. But the moment you returned safe, he’d greet you like nothing was out of the ordinary. “I knew you’d come back in one piece. You’re too stubborn to quit.”

˚₊‧꒰ა The one time you were seriously injured, Shunsui didn’t leave your bedside. He might have had his usual lazy smile plastered on, but his hands trembled as he adjusted your blanket. “You gave me quite the scare, sweetheart. Let’s not make that a habit, yeah?”

˚₊‧꒰ა Whenever you challenged him to a sparring match, he never outright refused but made it as playful as possible. He’d dodge most of your strikes with exaggerated movements, tipping his hat like you were duelling in a ballroom. “Ah, you’re too quick for me! Shall we call it a draw before I embarrass myself?”

˚₊‧꒰ა Shunsui’s proudest moments were the ones he didn’t voice outright, but they showed in his actions. Like when he showed up unannounced to watch you receive your promotion or the rare times he subtly bragged about you in front of other captains. “Well, I suppose talent runs in the family, doesn’t it, Ukitake?”

˚₊‧꒰ა He adored teasing you in front of the other captains, especially when it came to matters like sparring. “My daughter could give you a run for your money, Toshiro. She’s a prodigy like her old man,” he’d say, smirking as Hitsugaya glared. “Care to test that theory?” And your father was serious about that bet.

˚₊‧꒰ა If you lost the fight, he’d still cheer you on, lifting your spirits with a positive attitude. “Even though you lost, kiddo, you managed to keep up with Captain Hitsugaya. A feat many can’t achieve. You’re on your way to achieving greatness. Even better than me!”

˚₊‧꒰ა Oh, if you won, Seireitei and even all of Soul Society would never hear the end of your victory. He’s going to brag and boast about how amazing you are and how his teachings paid off. Toshiro is never going to forget it because your father is going to tease him.

˚₊‧꒰ა You might have to tape his mouth shut or have Nanao threaten him. But you can’t blame him—seeing his daughter besting another prodigy makes his heart swell. “You’re definitely a Kyoraku, love. You got your old man’s skills.”

˚₊‧꒰ა The two of you shared an easy banter that could turn into something surprisingly deep when the moment called for it. During quiet evenings, he’d muse about his past, his regrets, and his hopes for your future, all while keeping his tone light. “You’re the best thing in my life, you know. Don’t tell Nanao I said that she might faint.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Speaking of Nanao, you and she have to consistently pester him to do his paperwork and duties. You mostly pick up for Nanao and scold your father because he has her doing all the work while he’s off lazing. “If you don’t do your paperwork, I’ll hide all your favourite sake and shave all your hair off.” He did not like your threat because it wasn’t the first time you hid his sake, nor was it the first time you attempted to shave him.

˚₊‧꒰ა Whenever you butted heads, he’d let you win most of the time, but you’d know when he was serious. His tone would lose its usual playfulness, and he’d look at you with the weight of centuries in his eyes. “I won’t tell you what to do, but I’ll always have your back—whether you like it or not.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He had a habit of draping his haori over your shoulders when you were upset, saying it was a trick Jushiro once used on him. “It’s like an extra layer of armour,” he’d explain, “to keep the bad thoughts at bay.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Shunsui’s softer side showed in the little things, like the way he’d fix your scarf before a mission or leave notes in your quarters with terrible jokes written on them. “Why did the hollow cross the road? To get to the Soul Society, obviously.”

˚₊‧꒰ა When you grew into your role as a Shinigami, he treated you like an equal without losing the warmth of a father. He’d still tease you, but there was genuine respect in his tone whenever he saw you in action. “Look at you, commanding like a pro. Guess I’ll have to retire soon; don’t want to steal your spotlight.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Even as you matured, Shunsui never stopped seeing you as his little girl. During festivals, he’d insist on walking you home, hat tipped low over his face to hide how much he’d enjoyed the evening. “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but dancing with you was the highlight of my night.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Shunsui’s advice was always maddeningly cryptic but somehow exactly what you needed. When you faced a difficult decision, he’d sit back with a sigh, swirling his sake. “Sometimes, love, the best choice is the one that makes your heart a little lighter. Just don’t forget to bring a sword.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Although, he was surprisingly perceptive about your personal struggles. Whether it was training frustrations, disagreements with friends, or self-doubt, he’d find subtle ways to address them. “You know,” he’d say casually over tea, “even the strongest oak bends in a storm. Doesn’t make it any less strong.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He was surprisingly sentimental. You once found a small box hidden in his quarters, filled with keepsakes from your childhood—locks of hair, doodles, even a tiny sandal you’d lost years ago. “A father’s treasure trove,” he said sheepishly when you confronted him.

˚₊‧꒰ა You were his anchor as much as he was yours. In his quieter moments, he’d remind you how much you meant to him with his actions rather than words, though he’d let slip the occasional heartfelt sentiment. “You keep me young, sweetheart. Well, younger than Ukitake, anyway.”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @edensrose @spellboundsuguru @cactimorada @cookielovesbook-akie @kennys-partner

©satsugacafé: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

[cosmowgyral]

"Lover's Contract: A night of immoral deeds"

▪︎ Nica Schwartz

This is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. Creative liberties have been taken.

Since Nica is not yet out in the EN server, there might be terms that will turn out different than what I have used here when he is finally released. All content belongs to Cybird. Reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

Nica: Lover’s club has three rules.

Nica: One, never tell each other’s secrets.

Nica: Two, actively consider any proposal for an affair, even if it’s abnormal.

Nica: Three, if either of you gets a new lover, end the relationship.

Nica: What do you think? It sounds fun.

I lowered my eyes and sighed, unlike Nica, who had the corners of his mouth curled in laughter.

(Why did it have to come to this….)

A few hours back-----

As I crouched down in front of the flower bed and looked at the flowers, a shadow obstructed my field of vision.

Nica: What are you doing here?

Kate: Nica?

He was looking down at me, and didn’t somehow seem like his usual carefree self.

(He seems a bit grumpy…..)

He pursed his lips and looked at me with a dissatisfied expression.

Kate: Did something happen?

Nica: Oh yes, listen Robin.

Nica: I had the worst day today; a bird pooped on my clothes and then I stepped on fallen food.

Nica: On top of that, I was accused by a stranger and almost got punched.

Nica, who has been plagued by continuous misfortunes, tried to remove the bird poop from his clothes.

Wait a second, did he just say he was about to be punched by a stranger?

Nica: The misunderstanding was cleared but…..

The man who was about to hit him had mistakenly thought that Nica was his wife’s lover.

Nica had stopped in front of the house where his wife's lover resided.

Nica: So, when he was waiting to ambush the guy, I happened to stop there and he mistook me for him.   

It seems the man’s wife hadn’t been home for almost a week---.

(That’s actually a bit sad…..)

Seeing him with his arms crossed, looking thoroughly displeased made me feel sorry for him.  

Kate: How about doing something fun to relax?

Kate: I can go out with you if you’re okay with it.

Fortunately, he smiled at me.

Nica: Well, there is a place I want to go with you.

Kate: Where is it?

Perhaps he is feeling a little better now because there was a shift in his expression.

Nica’s lips slowly curved into a smile.

Nica: Love. People. Club. Fun.

He uttered some strange words.

The lover’s club is a club where you can spend time with your lover in secret.

It is apparently held only at night in a certain mansion as a place for people to spend an immoral night indulging in pleasure.

The man who attempted to hit Nica is now at his wit's end because it appears that his wife also frequents the club----.

Nica: So I thought I’d step in and lend a hand.

He leaned closer to me, his eyes sparkling.

Nica: Hey Robin, let’s sneak in together and find the man’s wife.

Kate: Umm….

Seeing that I was not showing any enthusiasm, his shoulders visibly slumped.

Nica: You were the one who said you’d join me for a change of pace.

Nica: I was really happy….but it seems like you don’t want to go with me…

(Oh cmon!)

Kate: Okay, but I’ll come back as soon as we’re done finding his wife!

Nica: As expected of the Robin, you get things done quickly.

And then, Nica gave me a broad smile----.

Nica: So from now on, you are my lover.

(back to the present)

(When I asked him to relax a bit, I never imagined that I would become his lover and sneak into a club with him.…)

Nica took out a photo from his pocket.

Nica: This is his wife. Her lover is a young man about the same age as us.

Nica: Apparently they’re known as the Queen and the Prince in the club. How funny.

This woman known as ‘Queen’ possessed an alluring aura, although it was unclear how old she was.

 Nica: Once we get hold of the woman, we hand her over to her husband. That’s our mission.

Kate: Okay, I understand…but why did you decide to cooperate with the man, Nica?

I asked him the question because I couldn't figure out why he would cooperate with a man who had nearly punched him.

Nica: Robin, we forged a bond of friendship between us men.

Nica: We were two unfortunate men, so we decided to help each other out.

He didn’t give me a proper reason.

(Knowing Nica, I doubt he’ll want to help out with only good intentions….)

I look at him suspiciously, unable to believe that a man who loved money so much, would cooperate without a compensation.

Nica: While we’re on the topic, let’s decide on a setting.

Nica: Wouldn’t it be okay if you were the wife of a company’s president and I was an employee working at your husband’s company?

Kate: But you look like the one with more money.

He appears much wealthier than I do because of all those pricey accessories he is wearing.

Suddenly, he sat down next to me, and began running his fingers through my hair.

Nica: I would want you to dress me up as your lover.

The lips that were resting on the ends of my hair make a soft sound.

Nica: Because I want to prove that I belong to you.

My heart started racing as I was stunned by the sudden kiss.

Then, my eyes met Nica’s.

Nica: Don’t be surprised by something like this, we’re lovers.

His captivating smile enthralled me, but then I gasped when the carriage came to a quick stop.

Nica: Looks like we arrived, Robin. Are you ready?

He held out his arm in front of me, and gave me a look that suggested I accept it.

I nodded slightly and wrapped my arm around his as instructed.

Nica: Well then, shall we indulge in a one night’s forbidden affair?

That endearing voice marked the beginning of a nightlong love affair.

[Masterlist] [Chapter2]