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bratbarzal · 3 days ago
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Could you please do ⁵⁾ “i couldn’t think of a better night to show everyone how in love with you i am.” with Nico?
✩‧₊˚ bratbarzal's valentines event!˚₊‧✩
“i couldn’t think of a better night to show everyone how in love with you i am.” this also goes out to the anon who requested this exact line with meier sister reader bc it's where my brain immediately went when I saw this!!!! BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND!NICO NATION WE UP!!! RISE AND SHINE!!!
*this includes sexual references, but no actual smut.
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"Stop watching me like that."
Nico sits at the top of the bed, the bed sheet only just covering his modesty as his legs sprawl out from beneath the covers. He has one arm stretched across the pillow you just vacated, and another scratching slowly at his stomach, where the soft patch of hair on his abdomen disappears under the flimsy strip of cotton.
He looks like sex personified, and he needs to give it a rest.
Laughter rumbles lowly from the depths of his chest, a sly smirk spreading across his lips as his eyes follow you - rushing around the room to retrieve the clothes he had torn from your body maybe an hour ago now. You hop back into your panties, and then your shorts, and it's as you're clipping your bra back on that he asks, "Like what?"
His tone is teasing, familiar, exactly the kind of flirty cadence that had lured you into his bed earlier today, in the first place - passing by a little too close for comfort with a hand on your hip, and lips to your ear, muttering how good your ass looked in your shorts before he planted a quick, light smack to it.
He knows what he's doing.
"Like you could go again," you huff, buttoning at the light, summery shirt you were wearing before as you look up at him.
"Maybe I could," he shrugs, straightening up in a way that makes the sheet slip dangerously low, an action that attracts your gaze like a high powered magnet, stuck on him until you can shake yourself out of it. "Maybe we should."
"No," you rattle your head, trying to claw back any kind of sense or dignity, diverting your attention in search of your sandals. "Not happening. I need to go shower. I smell like a combination of a sex den and you."
"And what's wrong with that?" he chuckles, "You use my stuff in the shower every time you come over, you wear my clothes when you leave, why's today any different?"
"Because we're on vacation with my brother, Nico," you huff, finding where you had kicked them off and they had slid toward his side of the bed. "He catches a whiff of you on me, on today of all days, and he'll throw you overboard the next time we're out on the boat."
"C'mon," he sighs, although that tempting smirk remains, and shuffles his legs over the side of the bed, the sheet slipping, forcing you to spin on your heels to avoid staring down the barrel of what you have no doubt is, once again, a loaded gun.
That man is insatiable.
You hear his laughter from behind you, along with footsteps that fall out of pattern for a brief second, and you're thankful when a large hand places itself on your upper arm to turn you, that he's at least wearing boxers now.
"We can't keep sneaking around forever, it's been long enough, don't you think?"
You feel your eyes flutter shut as he pulls you close, his assertive grip holding you in place with fingers now curved around the back of your waist, and you sigh - a big one, that despite the heaviness of it, does little to quell the anxiety swirling around your chest.
"I thought you wanted to wait until the season was finished," you frown, distinctly remembering how you felt after that conversation back in November - when your situation became a lot less casual, and Nico had officially asked you to be his girlfriend one morning when he had finally run out of other excuses for you not to leave his bed.
"I did," he muses, fingers pressing into your flesh and forcing you forward, until you're flat against him, and once again encompassed by his ever lasting warmth. "But now I'm tired of hiding. Just want to love on you, not just in private or when Timo isn't looking."
His actions mimic his words as his hands start to wander, and his lips press soft, lingering kisses in a trail from your cheek, to your jaw, to your neck.
You melt, as you always do, body feeling like putty that moulds to his touch and sticks to his fingers as he reels you back in.
"We can't hard launch to my brother on Valentines Day, Nico," you mumble, your resolve weakening by the second with every slight ministration, his lips nipping at all the sensitive parts of your neck and his hands seeking out whatever skin he can get to first.
"Why not?" he asks, his voice low just beside your ear - so low that it sends a shiver down your spine, your chest pressing straight to his. "It's technically our anniversary after all."
This whole thing had started last year - in his bye-week - not long after you had moved in with your brother, and had been invited with the two of them and a couple more of their friends for a week-long trip.
What had always been teasing and lingering between you and Nico had swiftly evolved into more - one night of one too many drinks leading you straight to his bed, and one night leading to something frequent and forbidden.
Something changed in the summer - the two of you meeting up a little more back in Switzerland, when you weren't under your older brother's constant supervision, and you weren't worrying about being caught all the time, and then when you all came back to the states, you found yourself in Nico's bed more often than your own.
“I couldn’t think of a better night to show everyone how in love with you I am.”
Your heart thuds in your chest at the revelation, muttered straight into your ear - it taking you a second to get past the vibration of his words down your whole entire body before you register exactly what he said.
And then you lean back, your faces close as you turn to meet his eye - that captivating glimmer shining straight across dark chocolate irises, the smirk from before melting into something softer, more serious, more real.
"You're in love with me?" You ask, watching the smile slowly grow.
"Obviously," he replies, his thumb swiping gentle strokes into your spine, not giving it a chance to tense up or stiffen at the revelation - still moulded perfectly to his touch. "I don't risk my life at the hands of your brother for just anybody."
You smile too, despite the four-tonne block of anxiety that's launching itself your way at the all the possible ways this could go wrong.
Nico loves you.
And Timo's just gonna have to deal with it.
"I'm in love with you too," you tell him, leaning in immediately to press a kiss to his lips, like sealing the sentiment in place, feeling them curve against your own.
"Good," he mutters against you, kissing and kissing until you're too far gone again to do anything about it. "We should fuck again to celebrate, just in case your brother kills me."
You giggle, still not pulling back, letting his feet shuffle towards the end of the bed and guide you the same way.
You'll shower later. Probably with Nico - and the smell of his shampoo in your hair might give the two of you away, but who cares.
He's in love with you.
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sherewrytes · 12 hours ago
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Talk him through it
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A very late Valentine's day thing plus I wanted to write something for that talk him through it trend on tik tok (feel free to use some IRL )
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Synopsis: Work had been relentless for Suguru lately, the demands of managing his team as a project lead weighing heavily on his shoulders. He hated how it had affected your relationship, the distance creeping in despite both of you addressing it. But Valentine’s Day gave you the perfect opportunity to remind him of everything you shared—love, connection, and unwavering intimacy. Tonight was for him, to heal and unwind, but also to reaffirm that no matter how heavy life became, you would always be there to help him carry it.
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The sound of the door unlocking broke the stillness of the apartment, and you glanced at the clock on the stove—9:12 PM. Late, but you’d expected that. Since his promotion to Chief Systems Engineer, Suguru had been working longer hours, often coming home mentally drained and too worn out to even hold a proper conversation.
You heard the heavy sigh he let out as he stepped inside, the faint thud of his shoes hitting the floor, and the rustle of his coat as he hung it on the hook by the door. You peeked around the kitchen doorway and spotted him—tall, broad, and utterly exhausted.
His blazer was slung over one arm, his tie was askew, and the top button of his shirt had been undone, revealing a glimpse of his collarbone. His long hair, usually tied back neatly for work, was disheveled, strands framing his face. He looked like he’d had one hell of a day.
You stepped out of the kitchen with a soft smile. “Welcome home, baby.”
Suguru’s eyes flicked to you, and for a moment, the tension in his shoulders seemed to melt. His gaze softened as it traveled over you, taking in the way you’d dressed up for him—a silky, deep red dress that hugged your curves just right, paired with gold jewelry that glinted softly in the candlelight.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. He dropped his bag by the couch, raking a hand through his hair. “What’s all this?”
You walked over to him, the gentle sway of your hips drawing his tired eyes like a magnet. “It’s Valentine’s Day, Suguru,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Did you forget?”
His lips twitched into a faint smirk, though the exhaustion lingered in his expression. “Of course not. I just…” He trailed off, glancing around at the soft glow of candles, the faint hum of your playlist in the background, and the table set with his favorite wine and dishes.
“...didn’t expect this,” he finished, his hands finding your waist instinctively. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble, Y/N.”
You smiled, leaning in to kiss his jawline, the roughness of his stubble brushing against your lips. “It’s no trouble,” you murmured. “You’ve been working so hard lately, Suguru. I wanted to give you a night where you don’t have to think about anything but us.”
He exhaled deeply, his arms tightening around you as he buried his face in your neck for a moment. “I don’t deserve you,” he muttered, his voice heavy with guilt. “I’ve been so caught up with work lately. I know I haven’t been the best—”
“Stop,” you interrupted, pulling back to look him in the eyes. “You’ve been doing your best. And that’s enough for me. Tonight, it’s my turn to take care of you.”
His dark eyes searched yours for a moment before he let out a low chuckle. “You spoil me too much, you know that?”
“Only because you deserve it,” you said, taking his hand and guiding him toward the table. “Now, let me feed you first. We’ve got the whole night ahead of us.”
“Come here,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against the loosened tie hanging around his neck.
Suguru raised an eyebrow but didn’t resist as you tugged lightly, pulling him closer. “What are you up to, hmm?” he asked, his voice dipping into a playful drawl despite his exhaustion.
“You’ll see,” you murmured, your hands sliding up to undo the knot with practiced ease. You pulled the silk tie free, letting it slip through your fingers before draping it over the back of a nearby chair. “You’ve had this thing on all day—it’s time to relax.”
A low hum of appreciation rumbled in his chest. “Feels like I’m being undressed before dinner,” he teased, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that broke through. “If I was undressing you, you wouldn’t be standing right now,” you shot back, your fingers grazing the open collar of his shirt. “Now sit. You need to eat.”
Suguru laughed, a deep, warm sound that made your chest flutter. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, letting you guide him by the hand toward the dining table.
You pulled out his chair and gestured for him to sit. He obeyed, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he sank into the cushioned seat. His eyes flickered to the table, where you’d prepared his favorite dishes—a thoughtful spread of hearty, home-cooked comfort food. The rich aroma of garlic, spices, and roasted vegetables filled the air, making his stomach rumble despite how drained he felt.
“You really went all out,” he said, watching as you grabbed the wine glasses and set one in front of him.
“I wanted tonight to be special,” you said simply, pouring him a generous amount of the deep red wine. “You deserve it.”
Suguru tilted his head, his dark eyes softening as he looked at you. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m not complaining.”
“Good,” you said, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “Now, eat before it gets cold.”
You took your seat across from him, watching as he picked up his fork and tasted the first bite. His eyes closed briefly as the flavors hit his tongue, and a quiet groan escaped him.
“Damn,” he muttered, opening his eyes to look at you with a mix of surprise and appreciation. “This is incredible. You’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you?”
You chuckled, shaking your head. “I just saved the best for a special occasion.”
The two of you fell into easy conversation as you ate, the stresses of the day melting away with each bite and sip of wine. Suguru’s laughter became more frequent, his shoulders relaxing as the weight of his responsibilities faded, if only for a while.
At one point, you reached across the table to brush a stray strand of hair from his face, your fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “You’re really handsome, you know that?”
He smirked, leaning into your touch. “Careful, you’re gonna give me a big head.”
“Too late for that,” you teased, pulling your hand back to sip your wine.
As dinner wound down, you stood and began clearing the dishes, but Suguru grabbed your wrist gently.
“Leave it,” he said, his voice low and warm. “I’ll do it later.”
You shook your head. “Not tonight. You’re not lifting a finger, remember?”
He sighed, leaning back in his chair with a resigned smile. “You’re really not gonna let me do anything tonight, huh?”
“Not a chance,” you said, setting the plates on the counter before turning back to him. You leaned against the edge of the table, your gaze locked on his. “In fact, I’ve got something else planned for you.”
Suguru raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Oh? What kind of plans?”
You tilted your head, a sly smile playing on your lips. “Why don’t you follow me and find out?”
Suguru watched you carefully, curiosity and intrigue dancing in his dark eyes. He pushed his chair back and stood, towering over you as you offered him your hand.
“Come on,” you said softly, your voice low and inviting.
He slipped his hand into yours without hesitation, his rough palm warm against your skin. The gentle tug you gave him sent a thrill through his chest, and he couldn’t help but notice the slight sway in your hips as you led him down the hall.
“Not even a hint?” he asked, his tone teasing as his thumb traced small circles against the back of your hand.
“Nope,” you replied, throwing a playful glance over your shoulder. “Patience, Suguru.”
He chuckled, shaking his head but letting you guide him. As the two of you approached the bedroom, he noticed the faint sound of soft music drifting through the air. His steps faltered for a brief moment as you pushed open the door, revealing the surprise you had carefully prepared.
The room was transformed into a private sanctuary. Flickering candlelight cast a golden glow against the walls, and the bed was adorned with a scattering of crimson and blush rose petals. Heart-shaped balloons in his favorite color, your favorite color, and classic Valentine’s Day red floated gently around the room, anchored by silky ribbons. A delicate, floral scent lingered in the air, mixing with the faint aroma of the candles.
Suguru blinked, taking it all in as a soft melody—a song the two of you both loved—played in the background. His gaze finally landed on you, standing in front of him with a nervous but expectant smile.
“You did all this for me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“For us,” you corrected, stepping closer to him. Your hands found the lapels of his shirt, smoothing them down before slipping beneath to rest on his chest. “You’ve been working so hard, Suguru. I wanted to remind you how much I appreciate you—and how much I love you.”
The words settled over him like a warm embrace, and for a moment, he couldn’t find the right response. Instead, he cupped your cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing over your skin as his eyes softened.
“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours.
“You deserve everything,” you said firmly, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders. “Now, let me take care of you tonight. No work, no stress—just us.”
Suguru exhaled a shaky breath, his lips quirking into a small, almost bashful smile. “You’re really something else, you know that?”
You grinned, your fingers slipping down to undo the top few buttons of his shirt. “I know,” you teased, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Now, why don’t you get comfortable?”
Suguru’s brows lifted slightly, a knowing smirk curling at the edges of his lips as he stepped back and began shrugging off his shirt. “You’re really taking control tonight, huh?”
“That’s the plan,” you replied, taking his shirt from him and folding it neatly before setting it aside. “Now sit,” you instructed, nodding toward the edge of the bed.
He obeyed, his movements slow and deliberate as he sank onto the mattress. His eyes never left yours as you stepped closer, your hands moving to undo the cuffs of his sleeves. The soft music, the romantic ambiance, and the way you looked at him—everything about this moment made the stress of the past few weeks feel like a distant memory.
“Relax,” you said gently, your fingers brushing over his wrists before tilting his chin up to look at you. “Tonight, I’ve got you.”
Suguru lifted the robe fully out of the bag, letting the sleek black fabric unfold. His eyes widened slightly as he ran his fingers over the intricate gold details, the unmistakable Medusa head pattern catching the dim candlelight.
“Versace?” he said, a mix of surprise and amusement coloring his tone. “You got me a Versace robe?”
You couldn’t help but grin at his reaction. “I figured you deserved to feel a little extra luxurious,” you said, brushing a strand of hair from your face as you stood between his legs.
Suguru chuckled, shaking his head as he inspected the robe further. “This is... over the top.”
“No,” you countered softly, resting your hands on his shoulders. “This is exactly what you deserve. You’ve been working so hard, Suguru. Let me take care of you tonight.”
He looked up at you, his expression softening as he set the robe down beside him. “You really went all out,” he murmured, his hands sliding to rest on your hips.
“For you? Always,” you replied, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips.
Suguru sighed into the kiss, his hands tightening on your waist as if grounding himself in the moment. When you pulled back, you caught the way his eyes lingered on you, dark and full of appreciation.
“Let me help you get comfortable,” you whispered, your fingers toying with the buttons of his vest.
He leaned back slightly, watching you with a hint of anticipation as you slowly undid each button. You took your time, your fingers grazing his chest lightly with each movement. Once the vest was open, you slid it off his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor in a soft heap.
Your hands moved to the buttons of his work shirt next, your touch deliberate and slow. Suguru’s breathing deepened as you worked your way down, each button revealing more of his toned chest and the tattoos that adorned his skin.
“You always look so good,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him.
He smirked at your comment, his dark eyes watching your every move. “You like the ink that much?”
You smiled, your fingers tracing one of the intricate designs on his chest. “I love everything about you,” you said softly, leaning in to press a kiss to the edge of a swirling black line.
Suguru’s breath hitched slightly at the contact, his hands moving to rest on your thighs as you continued your slow exploration. You slid the shirt off his shoulders, revealing more of his inked skin. His lean muscles and the way the tattoos stretched across them made your breath catch.
“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, running your hands down his chest.
He chuckled, his voice low and warm. “I think that’s supposed to be my line.”
You leaned closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you replied, “You’ll get your turn. For now, let me take care of you.”
Suguru’s hands flexed on your thighs, his control slipping just enough to show how much your words were affecting him. “You really know how to get a man to relax,” he murmured.
“Good,” you said, stepping back slightly to reach for his belt. His eyes darkened as he watched you unbuckle it, your movements slow and intentional.
Sliding the belt from its loops, you let it fall to the floor before moving to the clasp of his work pants. Suguru shifted slightly, lifting his hips just enough for you to ease the pants down his legs.
Now, he sat before you in just his boxers, the contrast of his inked skin against the soft candlelight making your heart race. You knelt in front of him, your hands sliding up his thighs as your eyes roamed his body appreciatively.
“You’re perfect,” you murmured, your fingers tracing the edge of a tattoo on his hip.
Suguru let out a soft laugh, his hand reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re too good to me,” he said, his voice a mix of affection and desire.
You stood slowly, your hands brushing up his sides as you leaned down to kiss him again. This time, the kiss was deeper, slower, your lips moving against his in a way that made time seem to stretch.
When you pulled back, his breathing was heavier, and his eyes were locked on you with an intensity that made your skin tingle.
“Stay right here,” you whispered, your voice soft but commanding.
Suguru’s gaze followed you as you stepped back, walking toward the dresser where you had set aside the robe. Picking it up, you turned back to him, holding it out with a small smile.
“Let’s get you into this,” you said, your tone playful yet tender.
Suguru stood, his tall frame towering over you as he took the robe from your hands. His movements were deliberate as he slipped it on, the luxurious fabric draping perfectly over his shoulders.
You stepped back, admiring him with a satisfied smile. “Now you really look like the king you are,” you said, your voice teasing.
He chuckled, his hand reaching out to pull you close. “If I’m the king, then you’re my queen,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your forehead.
Suguru wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close. The robe hung loosely on his frame, exposing just enough of his tattoos and toned chest to make your stomach flutter. His lips brushed against your forehead, then trailed down to your temple, leaving a warm trail of kisses along your skin.
“You’ve been spoiling me all night,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. “Let me do something for you, too.”
His hands moved to your hips, sliding up your sides with the intent to take control of the moment. But you quickly stepped back, placing your hands on his chest with a soft yet firm push.
“Uh-uh,” you said with a playful shake of your head, your lips curling into a smirk. “Tonight is about you. Sit down.”
Suguru arched an eyebrow, his lips tugging into a small grin as he allowed himself to be guided back onto the bed. He leaned back on his hands, watching you with that dark, amused glint in his eyes. “You’re really not going to let me return the favor, huh?”
“Not tonight,” you replied, your voice soft but commanding as you stood before him.
His gaze followed your every move, his expression shifting from playful to something deeper, more focused. You stepped between his legs, your fingers grazing his thighs before trailing up to the edges of the robe. You tugged it open just enough to reveal more of his inked chest, your hands skimming the warm skin beneath.
“You work so hard,” you said softly, your fingers tracing one of the intricate designs on his shoulder. “You deserve to just sit back and let me take care of you for once.”
Suguru’s breathing deepened as your hands moved to his face, cupping his jaw gently. You leaned down, your lips brushing against his in a slow, lingering kiss that made his hands twitch with the effort to stay still.
When you pulled back, you reached for the sash of your robe, undoing it slowly. Suguru’s eyes darkened as the fabric slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your feet and revealing the delicate lace set beneath.
“Damn,” he murmured, his voice dropping as his eyes roamed your figure appreciatively. “You’re trying to kill me tonight, aren’t you?”
You chuckled softly, stepping closer to him. “No,” you whispered, your hands sliding to his shoulders. “I’m trying to remind you how loved you are.”
Suguru’s hands finally moved, resting lightly on your hips as you straddled his lap. He leaned forward, his lips ghosting over your collarbone as he muttered, “You’re making it really hard to just sit back, you know.”
“I know,” you replied, your fingers threading through his hair as you tilted his head back slightly. “But I want you to trust me tonight. Let me take the lead.”
His dark eyes met yours, a flicker of resistance giving way to a smirk as he leaned back again. “Alright, baby,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “I’m all yours.”
You smiled, leaning down to kiss him again, your lips moving slowly, deliberately against his. Your hands slid to the edges of his robe, pushing it off his shoulders as you kissed along his jawline and down his neck.
Suguru let out a soft groan as you moved, his head tipping back slightly to give you more access. You took your time, your lips trailing over the tattoos that marked his chest, your fingers skimming over the ridges of his muscles.
When you reached his boxers, you paused, your hands resting on his thighs as you looked up at him. “Still with me?” you asked, your voice soft but filled with intent.
His gaze was heavy-lidded as he looked down at you, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Always,” he replied.
The room was warm, the soft glow of the candles casting golden light over Suguru’s inked skin as you slid off his lap, leaving a trail of featherlight touches down his chest. He shifted slightly, settling on the edge of the bed as you moved to kneel on the plush rug beneath him.
His dark eyes followed your every move, smoldering with a mix of curiosity and desire. You glanced up at him, your hands resting lightly on his knees, and the sight of him looking down at you—just in his boxers, his tattoos a map of his strength and stories—was enough to make your breath hitch.
You reached for one of his hands, lifting it to your lips and planting a warm, deliberate kiss on his knuckles. The gesture, soft and intimate, pulled a low sigh from him, followed by a groan that vibrated through the air like a low hum. His head tipped back for a moment, his long, dark hair falling over his shoulders as he absorbed the sensation.
“Suguru,” you murmured, his name a soft caress on your lips.
He tilted his head to look at you again, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths, though the tension in his body betrayed the storm brewing within. You leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on the waistband of his boxers, your lips grazing his skin just above the fabric.
His breath caught, and his hand instinctively moved, brushing your cheek before you guided it behind your head. You let his fingers tangle in your hair, his touch tender yet firm as his palm rested against the back of your head. His thumb brushed the nape of your neck, a silent acknowledgment of his restraint, his hesitation.
Looking up at him through your lashes, you let your lips part, your voice soft and breathy as you said, “Come feed me, Suguru.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with intent and vulnerability.
His eyes widened slightly at your boldness, a flicker of surprise breaking through the heat in his gaze. Then a low chuckle escaped him, followed by a shaky exhale as he ran his free hand through his hair.
“Damn,” he muttered, his voice thick with amusement and arousal. “You really aren’t playing tonight.”
He tugged lightly at your hair, not to pull you away but to ground himself, his other hand brushing the side of your face. “You’re sure about this?” he asked, his tone softer, grounding, though the tremor in his voice hinted at his resolve slipping.
You nodded, your lips curling into a small smile as you leaned further into him. “It’s all for you tonight,” you whispered.
Suguru exhaled deeply, his hand on the back of your head caressing the curve of your skull as his other hand rested on your cheek. The tension in his body eased, though the raw need in his eyes burned brighter.
"Alright then," he murmured, a teasing edge slipping into his tone despite the rasp in his voice. "Don't blame me if I lose control."
Suguru pulled his cock out while your one hand slid his boxers off.
Geto inhaled sharply as you aligned yourself, his cock springing free from the confines of his boxers and coming to rest against your soft lips. He shuddered at the contact, a low groan escaping him as he looked down at you with hooded, lust-filled eyes.
His hand fisted slightly in your hair, not to force you, but to anchor himself as he struggled to maintain his composure. "Fuck, you look... incredible," he breathed out, his voice rough with desire. "Seeing you like this, so eager and ready, it's... damn."
Geto brushed his thumb over your plump bottom lip, tracing the delicate curve before he gripped the base of his shaft, stroking it slowly as you gazed at him while his cock rested against your face and tip on your lips. "Go on, Suguru. Let me show you what that pretty mouth can do," he groaned, a wicked glint in his eye and a smirk playing on his lips.
Geto let out a strangled "Fuck" as he began to slowly thrust into the warm, wet heat of your mouth, his grip tightening in your hair. "Ohhh fuck, your mouth... it's incredible," he gasped out, his voice strained with pleasure.
His hips rocked back and forth, pushing deeper with each thrust as he lost himself in the exquisite sensation. The obscene sound of his cock plunging into your throat filled the room, mingling with Geto's increasingly loud and desperate moans.
"Mmphh... ahhh... damn it, your mouth is too good," he panted out, his eyes squeezing shut as he surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure. The hand fisting in your hair tugged lightly, not forcing you, but conveying his building urgency.
Geto's muscular chest heaved with each ragged breath, the tattoos seeming to dance in the candlelight as his skin flushed with arousal. He was rapidly losing control, consumed by the feeling of your lips wrapped around his aching length and the tantalizing sensation of your tongue swirling around the sensitive head.
He watched saliva leaked out of your mouth while your head bobbed on his cock
"Shit... I-I'm not going to last if you keep that up," he warned you, his voice a low, desperate rasp. "You're going to make me cum so fucking hard..."
Despite his words, Geto didn't slow his movements, continuing to fuck your mouth with increasing fervor. The bed creaked beneath him as he braced himself, drowning in the exquisite pleasure of your skilled ministrations.
you pull back releasing Geto's cock from your mouth you smiled and pushed him back onto the bed "what you want baby? me on top or you over me." Suguru had never heard you talk to him like this before.
Geto's eyes widened in surprise as you suddenly pulled away, a mix of disappointment and intrigue warring on his handsome face. He allowed himself to be pushed back onto the bed, his chest heaving with labored breaths as he stared up at you, a newfound hunger burning in his gaze.
He propped himself up on his elbows, taking in your flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips with a satisfied smirk. "Wow, you're full of surprises tonight, aren't you?" he murmured, a note of admiration in his voice. "I like it. I like it a lot."
At your question, Geto's brow arched, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Mmm, you want to be in control tonight, huh?" he purred, his eyes roaming appreciatively over your curves. "I can work with that. I want to watch you take what you need, to see you lost in pleasure above me as you chase your high."
He leaned back further, settling against the pillows and spreading his arms wide in a clear invitation. "Come on then, sweetheart. Straddle me. Take what you want from me. I want to watch you work for it," Geto challenged, his voice dripping with sinful promise and barely restrained desire. "And if you do a really good job, maybe I'll even let you pin me down and have your wicked way with me."
His eyes gleamed with mirth and unbridled lust, a silent dare hanging in the air between you. Despite the competitive nature simmering beneath the surface, Geto was more than willing to let you be the one in charge tonight, eager to see just how far you would take this newfound boldness.
you climbed on top him kissing his jaw while slowly sliding down onto his cock saying in-between kisses, "Can you feel how tight I am around you baby? Cann, you feel how wet you make me."
Geto let out a low, drawn-out groan as you slowly sank down onto his throbbing shaft, his hands gripping your hips tightly. He tilted his head to the side, giving you better access to his jaw as you peppered it with soft kisses.
"Fuck yes, I can feel it," he grunted, his voice strained with pleasure. "You're so goddamn tight, Fuck baby. just like that. Squeezing me like a vice..."
One hand slid up your side, palming the soft swell of your breast as the other gripped your ass, encouraging you to sink even lower. "And you're soaked, aren't you? I can feel your wetness coating my cock, making it so fucking easy to slide in deep."
He bucked his hips up slightly, burying himself to the hilt inside you as a particularly intense kiss sent a shiver down his spine. "Damn, the way you're gripping me, it's like your pussy was made just for my dick. Fuck, I could stay buried inside your tight heat forever..."
Geto's breathing grew heavier as he lost himself in the exquisite sensation, his heart pounding in his chest. He gazed up at you with hooded, lust-glazed eyes, a look of pure hunger etched on his handsome face.
"Ride me just like that, sweetheart. Take your pleasure from me, use me to chase your high," he murmured, his grip on your hips tightening as he guided your movements. "I want to feel you come undone above me, want to watch as you lose yourself in ecstasy. Come on baby, fucking take it."
you kissed him feverishly and bit on his lip just a lil "you like when I get like this. See you how your dick makes me crazy Su"
A sharp gasp escaped Geto's lips as you nipped at his mouth, a bolt of electricity seeming to shoot through his body at the mix of pleasure and pain. His hands tightened their grip on your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he bucked up into you with increasing urgency.
"Fuck, I love it. I fucking love seeing you like this, all wild and desperate for my cock," he growled, his voice low and rough with desire. "Your tight little pussy is squeezing me so hard, and your kisses... damn, they're driving me insane."
Geto captured your lips in a searing kiss, all tongue and teeth and barely restraining himself. He devoured your mouth like a man starved, swallowing your whimpers and moans as he thrust up into you harder, the bed creaking beneath you.
"You like it when I make you crazy like this, sweetheart? When I fill up your hungry little cunt and make you lose control?" he panted against your lips, his eyes blazing into yours.
"Yes i do daddy, fucking claim your pussy. no one beats it up like you Suguru."
You placed your hand on his chest to get a lil more leverage to bounce more on his cock, "Look at us Suguru, look how you slide in and out of me so good baby."
Geto's breath caught in his throat as you braced your hand against his chest and began to bounce on his throbbing member with fevor. The new angle allowed him to plunge even deeper, his hardened length sliding in and out of your dripping folds with ease.
He gazed down at the spot where your bodies joined, watching in awe and disbelief as he claimed your pussy so thoroughly. The erotic sight of your arousal coating his shaft and dripping down onto his balls sent a fresh wave of lust crashing over him.
"Shit... look at that. Your hungry little cunt is swallowing me whole, and it's so fucking sexy," he breathed out, his voice ragged with desire. "I've never seen anything so perfect in my life"
Geto's eyes flashed up to meet yours, blazing with a new intensity. In that moment, the tables turned, and he found himself captivated, ensnared by the raw passion and need shining in your gaze.
His grip on your hips loosened slightly as he surrendered to the feeling of your sensual bouncing, allowing you to take your pleasure from his body. Geto's head tipped back against the pillows, exposing the strong column of his throat as soft sounds of bliss spilled from his lips.
"Yes baby, just like that. Use me, take what you need," he encouraged breathlessly, all traces of his earlier dominance melting away. Geto gazed up at you with a new level of reverence, eagerly drinking in the erotic sight of you losing yourself in the pleasure he brought you. "You're incredible... fuck, I can't get enough of you. Ruin me for anyone else."
"You want me to ruin you Suguru hmmm, you want this pretty pussy don't you."
The candles flickered, casting a warm glow over Suguru's sweat-slicked skin as he gazed up at you with eyes dark and hazy from arousal. A shudder rippled through his muscular body at your provocative words, and he swallowed hard before responding, his voice low and thick with desire.
"Fuck yes, I want this sweet little pussy to ruin me," he admitted, his grip tightening reflexively on your hips. "I want you to fucking destroy me, baby. I want your needy cunt to consume me until the only thing I can focus on is you riding me, using me for your pleasure."
Suguru's chest heaved as he struggled to maintain control, the feel of your slick walls gripping him like a velvet vice. He bucked into you, straining to bury himself impossibly deeper as he marveled at the erotic sight of your curves bouncing with each powerful thrust.
"Mark me, claim me, make me yours until I can't think straight," he begged fervently, all traces of his earlier swagger replaced by a raw, naked desperation. "I don't want to be able to walk away after you're done with me. I want to be ruined for anyone else."
His eyes, burning into yours with an intensity that sent electrifying shivers racing down your spine, revealed a vulnerability he rarely dared to show. In that moment, Geto surrendered himself completely to you, putting his pleasure and wellbeing in your hands. "So go on, sweetheart. Take all of me, every fucking inch. Use me until I break."
"Switch positions baby put me on my back like my good boy."
Geto's eyes flashed with a mix of surprise and deep arousal at your commanding words. A shaky grin spread across his face, a hint of that familiar cockiness returning. "Damn, you've got me wrapped around your finger, don't you baby?" he murmured, his voice a low, appreciative rasp. "Never thought I'd say this, but fuck, I like it when you take charge like this, when you demand what you want from me."
He tightened his grip on your hips before flipping your joined bodies over in one smooth, powerful motion. In an instant, he had you pinned beneath him, nestled among the pillows and sheets as he loomed above you with a predatory gleam in his eyes.
"Mmm, look at you now. You're even more breathtaking like this, spread out and all mine," Geto purred, one hand trailing up your side to cup the swell of your breast. He brushed his thumb over the stiff peak, feeling it pebble under his touch.
"My good, sexy girl," he praised tenderly, his voice dripping with sinful promise. He rolled his hips, grinding his thick length against your sensitive flesh and causing you both to groan at the contact. "Now, you wanted me on top, so tell me baby... what do you want me to do next? How do you want me to worship this gorgeous body of yours?"
"Tell me if this is the best pussy you ever had."
Geto's eyes darkened with a fierce intensity as he gazed down at you, taking in the erotic sight of your body splayed out beneath him. A slow, wicked grin spread across his handsome face, revealing the deep appreciation and desire shining in his eyes.
The hand on your breast tightened slightly, kneading the soft mound as he leaned down to murmur against your ear. "You want to know if this is the best pussy I've ever had?" he asked, his voice a low, sinful purr. "Baby, you've got to be fucking kidding me. This sweet little cunt is in a league of its own, and I've had my share of experience."
He punctuated his words by thrusting his hips hard up against yours, grinding his thick, hard length along your dripping slit with a low groan of pleasure. "I've fucked many girls, but none of them could ever come close to you. Your pussy is fucking perfect, like it was made just for my cock."
Geto's fingers drifted down your belly, teasing through your slick folds before he circled your aching clit with a feather-light touch. "The way you grip me, like my dick is the only thing that can satisfy you. The way you soak me with that sweet ass pussy juice, begging me to fill you up again and again..."
He pressed a feather-light kiss to your jaw, your cheek, before pulling back to stare intensely into your eyes. "You've ruined me for anyone else baby. No one else will ever make me feel as good as you do. Now," he murmured, his voice a dark, seductive drawl. "Tell me what you want me to do to this incredible fucking pussy of yours. I'm yours to command."
"How about you choke me like you hate me and fuck me like you love me." you purred at him
Geto's eyes flashed with a dangerous glint, a thrill of dark excitement shooting through him at your provocative words. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, revealing a mix of wicked and tender emotions warring within him.
"Fuck, you want me to choke you like I hate you while I fuck you like I love you?" he murmured, his voice a low, sinful rasp. "Such a beautiful, twisted little thing you are. My perfect girl."
Slowly, deliberately, Geto brought one hand up to wrap around your throat, applying the lightest pressure. His grip was firm but not painful, a teasing promise of the intensity to come. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, you won't know if you're coming or going," he vowed darkly, his eyes boring into yours. "I'll split you open soo fuckin' good, tear you up, remind you who this needy cunt belongs to."
At the same time, Geto captured your lips in a searing kiss, pouring all of his passion, his lust, his twisted love into the heated clash of mouths. He licked into you greedily, swallowing your whimpers and moans as his other hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise.
"I'm going to fuck you with everything I have, baby. I'll make you scream, make you cry, make you fucking worship my cock," he swore fiercely against your lips. "And through it all, you'll know that I hate you for making me feel this way...but I also fucking love you."
"how about you shut up and make her talk to you, she misses you soooo bad Suu"
Geto's eyes flashed with raw emotion as he gazed down at where your bodies were joined, his hips snapping forward with increasing force. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as he took you harder, deeper, driven by a primal urge to claim you completely.
"Fuck, I've missed this perfect little pussy so fucking much," he grunted, his voice strained with pleasure and longing. He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he murmured feverishly, "Daddy's missed you too, baby. I've fucking craved this tight, wet cunt, dreamed about burying myself inside you for soooo fuckin' long FUCK!"
He punctuated each word with a sharp thrust, grinding his pelvis against your clit and drawing a high, keening cry from your throat. "You don't know how much I've needed this, how much I've needed to feel your sweet cunt gripping me like this. Like you were made just for me, like this is where I belong."
Geto's grip on your throat tightened slightly as he gazed at you with a fierce, hungry intensity. "Tell me baby, tell me how much you've missed me, how much you've needed your daddy's cock splitting you open," he demanded, his voice a dark, seductive growl.* "I want to hear you say it while I fuck this greedy little hole, want you to beg for more as I give you everything you've been craving."
"Show her that you've been missing her. Show your pussy you've been missing her" You purred trying to catch your breath while he knocking the air out your throat with his strokes
Suguru's eyes blazed with unleashed hunger as he pushed your legs up and back, bending you nearly in half. He loomed over your folded form, a dominant presence intent on claiming every inch of you. With a low, almost feral growl, he started to thrust into you with renewed vigor, his thick shaft driving deep and hard.
"Fuck, look at this needy, wet little pussy, so desperate for my cock," he rasped, his voice rough with desire. He angled his hips to grind against that secret spot inside you with each punishing thrust. "I've fucking missed you, baby. Missed the way your greedy cunt swallows me whole, like you can't get enough."
Suguru's hand slid down to rub tight circles over your clit, the added stimulation making your pussy clench and flutter around his pistoning length. "Feel that, sweetheart? Feel how much daddy has missed you, how hard he's been dreaming of this moment?" he murmured, his breath coming in harsh pants against your neck. "I've been craving this perfect little fuckhole, have been dying to ruin you all over again."
He captured your lips in a searing kiss, all tongue and teeth as he fucked into you with abandon. The room filled with the erotic symphony of your bodies joining, of your needy cries and his grunts of pleasure. "You're mine, baby. This pussy belongs to me. And I'm going to fuck you in a way that reminds you of that, over and over again until you can't forget it."
"Thank you for this dick daddy, Ouu Im boutta cum.....cum with me"
Geto's eyes widened, a fierce grin splitting his face at your desperate plea. He could feel your pussy starting to flutter and quake around his pistoning shaft, your body tensing as your climax approached.
"Fuck yes, thank your daddy for this dick," he growled, his voice a low, commanding rumble. He pistoned his hips harder, the force of his thrusts rocking the bed as he chased your impending orgasm. "You're about to cum on this perfect cock, isn't that right baby? You're going to fucking soak me like the desperate little slut you are."
He could feel his own release building, the pressure coiling tight at the base of his spine. The slick, scorching heat of your core was driving him wild, urging him closer to the edge. "Cum with me sweetheart, fucking drench my cock as I fill this hungry cunt," he demanded, his eyes blazing into yours with a mix of dark desire and tender adoration.
Geto's hand on your clit rubbed faster, the obscene sound of your wetness filling the room as he fucked you with wild abandon. He could feel your pussy starting to squeeze him like a vice, your body craving the release only he could give you.
*"Fuck, I'm cumming baby! I'm cumming.. fuck squeeze me baby" he groaned out slamming into you one last time before hilting himself deep. His shaft throbbed and jerked as thick, hot ropes of cum painted your fluttering walls, marking you from the inside out.
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The room was thick with the sweet scent of candle wax and the soft rustle of the sheets as Suguru lay back on the bed, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His hand rested lazily on his stomach, the other still tangled in your hair as you slowly nuzzled your face into his chest.
The silence between you both was a comforting kind of stillness, the kind that followed something deep, something raw. Your body was still humming, your heart pounding in time with the quiet rhythm of his breaths. You could feel the weight of his gaze, like a slow burn against your skin.
His hand slid from your hair to your back, fingers tracing lazy patterns over your skin as he leaned up on one elbow to get a better look at you.
“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathed, his voice a deep, rough rasp. “I’ve never heard you talk to me like that.”
You looked up at him, your smile small and satisfied, though there was a touch of curiosity in your eyes. Suguru’s face was flushed, his lips parted slightly as he watched you, as if still trying to process what had just happened.
“I just wanted to give you a night where you didn’t have to worry about anything but us,” you murmured, tracing the edges of his jawline with your fingertips.
He let out a shaky laugh, running a hand over his face, a mixture of disbelief and appreciation in his eyes. “You… you really have a way with words, don’t you?” he said, his voice low, but laced with an amused disbelief.
You smirked, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I’ve always had it in me,” you whispered against his mouth. “Just had to let it out.”
Suguru chuckled, his arms pulling you closer as he buried his face in your neck. His touch was still gentle but possessive, like he needed to feel you close, to ground himself after everything that had just transpired.
“I’ll never get tired of hearing you talk to me like that,” he murmured into your skin, his lips brushing against the delicate curve of your neck.
You let out a soft sigh, closing your eyes as you sank deeper into the warmth of his embrace. “I’ll keep it in mind, then,” you whispered, a playful glint in your voice.
As he continued to hold you, his mind wandered for just a moment—wondering how he’d gotten so lucky. In the quiet after the storm, it was moments like these that reminded him just how much he loved you, how much you had come to mean.
With a contented sigh, he kissed the top of your head, his body finally beginning to relax. “You’re incredible, Y/N.”
You smiled, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest as you snuggled closer, the weight of the night hanging in the air like a perfect memory.
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chthonicrose · 1 year ago
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I saw a post about working for a haunted house and for some reason it reminded me of when I used to work for an escape room place, and then because I only have one thought anymore, now I am thinking about crowley and aziraphale doing an escape room and how extremely bad they would be at it
crowley squinting at the fireplace like 'this is fake. it definitely comes open. I'm gonna pull on it.' and aziraphale like 'my dear boy they told us nothing in the room required brute strength' but he tried to use the wrong key on the gun safe and broke it off in the lock and had to discreetly miracle it back together. also he's professionally offended at how little the book safe looks like a real book.
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nosyp · 2 months ago
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Game of Persistence
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Continuation of this
Warning = smut🔞, stalking(?), consistently calling you, obsessive behaviour, posessive behaviour
Pairing = Salesman x reader
Word count = 2.4k words
Summary = He won’t stop calling, showing up at your door, and dragging you deeper into his world. Despite you rejecting him constantly, the tension between you builds, and soon, you can’t resist.
A/N = Idek where the story is going lol
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You stir awake, your head heavy, and the world seems unclear… only for a moment. And slowly, your senses start coming back to you, and the realization… that something feels... off. The warm, familiar smell of your room should be comforting, but it isn't. It feels like a completely different room despite nothing different.
You blink against the dim morning light coming from the blinds, your body sluggish as you sit up on the bed. The covers feel too thick and heavy, and for a while you don't recognize the space around you. The soft hum of a nearby appliance fills the silence, but there’s something unnerving… something wrong.
Then you spotted a small black card with the words ‘Call me’ and a phone number behind it written in white ink. You stare at the card for a long moment, the words sinking deeper into your mind. Call me.
The idea of making the call terrifies you, but at the same time, there's an almost magnetic pull to it. What could it mean? Who left it? Why now?
But somehow you worked up the courage to dial the number. Your hands were shaking as you picked up your phone. Your heart raced as you pressed each number, the beeps almost deafening in the otherwise quiet room. The final digit feels like it echoes in your mind, each beep growing a sense of dread in your chest. Once the last number is entered, your thumb hovers over the call button for a second, and for a brief moment, you question if you should do it or not.
But the pull is too strong. You can’t stop yourself now.
You tap the button.
The phone rings, each tone stretching out longer than the last. Your anxiety spikes as you wait for someone to pick up, but the line is eerily silent. The seconds drag on like hours, and you find yourself holding your breath, wondering if this was a mistake.
Then, just as you start to convince yourself you should hang up, the call connects.
A deep, calm voice answers on the other end. “You called. Good.”
Your throat tightens. There’s something unsettlingly calm in the voice, as if they expected you to call all along.
“Who is this?” you manage to croak, your voice barely above a whisper.
“It’s me, the salesman you were with last night,” the voice says, smooth and unbothered, as though you should’ve known exactly who they were. "I trust you remember our little chat."
Your mind races, struggling to recall any conversation from the previous night. Salesman? What did they mean? The last thing you remember was... nothing. Blank spaces where details should’ve been.
“I’m the ddakji guy,” he adds, almost like it should be obvious.
Goodness, how could you forget about him? The pieces click together in your mind, and the memories return with sharp clarity: a strange man, a paper game, and a promise of something... more. Why is he calling?
You try to shake off the rising panic inside you, but it’s quite hard to ignore. “What do you want?” you ask with a shaky voice.
“I’ll explain everything to you, just wait for me,” he says. 
You stayed in your apartment, anxiously waiting for the man’s arrival. Hours seemed to go by as the weight of the situation slowly got heavier, each passing minute making you question if you had made the right choice.
And then, just like that, there was a knock at your door.
Knock, knock, knock.
It was the same consecutive three knocks like last night, the one you’d heard in your memory that you now couldn’t shake. Your pulse quickened as you stood frozen for a moment, hand hovering near the door.
You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. There was no turning back now.
You opened the door, and there he was. The salesman. His calm demeanor was exactly as you remembered, almost like he had been expecting this, expecting you to open the door.
"Good," he said with a smile, his voice calm and confident. "I was wondering when you'd open the door."
You stepped back, not sure how to respond, and he walked in without waiting for permission, as if he had already been invited.
His eyes scanned the room briefly before returning to you. "Let’s get to it," he said, his voice low and steady. He seemed to have all the time in the world, despite the growing tension between you.
Over the next few hours, he spent his time explaining the whole operation to you. He explained how it worked, the roles, and how you were needed to help with what he called ‘Squid Game.’ It wasn’t anything like you’d imagined. No deadly challenges, no players, just a whole system that needed people behind the scenes. Workers like you.
"...are you drunk?" you ask him, your confusion growing with every word.
He looks up at you, disbelief slowly appearing on his face, before letting out a sigh. "No, I'm not," he replies calmly, his eyes staying focused. He continues explaining. 
"I don’t even know what you’re talking about," you say, still processing what he’s saying. "You want me to... work for you? In this weird game thing?"
“Yes, exactly,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “But not as a player. You’ll be like me, recruiting players.”
You stare at him, trying to piece it all together. "I don’t get it. Why me?"
He leans back slightly, eyeing you carefully. "Because you’re perfect for the job. You have the skills we need. This isn’t a game you can just walk away from once you’re involved. It’s bigger than that."
You look at him, speechless for a moment. You hadn’t signed up for any of this, yet somehow it felt like the decision was being taken out of your hands. Despite yourself, the thought of turning it down feels... impossible.
“I don’t know...” you trail off, feeling the weight of the situation settle around you.
He doesn’t push. He simply nods, signalling that he understands you need time to think. "You don’t have to decide right now. But when you’re ready, I’ll be waiting."
As he turns to leave, the silence in the room feels heavier as ever. His words linger in your mind, leaving you to wonder if saying no was really an option anymore.
The days following the encounter with the salesman feel like they drag on endlessly. You spend your time replaying everything he told you in your mind, and try to make sense of it but you never quite got it. Every time your phone rings, your heart skips a beat, a small part of you hoping it's him, yet dreading it at the same time.
And then, it happens.
The first call comes the next morning.
Your phone lights up, and before you can even check the phone number, you already know who it is. You hesitate before answering, your thumb hovering over the green button. It's him again.
You take a deep breath and pick up the phone.
"Hello?" you say, your voice tight with tension.
"You ready yet?" His voice comes through, calm as ever, but there's something unsettling in the way he asks. It's almost like he knew you’d pick up.
You feel a wave of frustration bubble up inside you. "You can’t be serious," you mutter under your breath.
But he doesn’t miss a beat. "I’m serious. You’re perfect for the job, and you know it. You beat me all those times. All you need to do is just step up. I’ll be back tomorrow. We need to move forward."
Before you can respond, he hangs up.
The call leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth, a knot in your stomach. You didn’t ask for this, yet it feels like you’re being dragged deeper into something you can’t escape.
The next day, the phone rings again. It's him. Same number and the same calm voice.
"Did you think about it?" he asks, his tone light, almost too casual. "Have you made up your mind?"
You press your palm to your forehead, the frustration building. "You’ve got to be kidding me. I told you I wasn’t interested."
"You can keep saying that," he responds, "but deep down, you know you’re in this whether you want to be or not. I’ll be back tomorrow, and we’ll talk again. You’ll see."
And just like that, the call ends.
Day after day, the calls keep coming. Every time you think you’ve had enough, the phone rings, and he’s there, as persistent as ever. His voice is calm, almost soothing in its insistence. Sometimes he asks if you’ve thought it over, other times he just reminds you that you can’t get out.
It feels like an unrelenting pressure, each call more invasive than the last. His confidence doesn’t waver, and you begin to wonder if you ever had a choice at all.
One day, you finally snap.
"Why won’t you leave me alone?" you ask, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear. "I’ve told you no every single time and you just keep calling. What the hell is wrong with you?"
There’s a pause on the other end. Then, he answers, his voice almost too calm.
"Because I know you’re not done yet. And I don’t give up. Not on people like you."
“All I did was beat you in ddakji!!” you screamed at the top of your lungs. 
“But… we need you to help us,” he responds, still calm as ever.
“No you don’t. Leave me alone.” you angrily say before hanging up. 
The knock comes again.
Knock, knock, knock.
It’s always the same, as though he knows exactly when you’re expecting him and when you’re not. You don't even flinch this time. The uncertainty from the first visit is long gone. Now it’s a horrible feeling and you have no idea why. You’ve made your mind up. He’s coming, and this time, you won’t shy away from it.
You walk to the door, your pulse quickening. The room feels smaller now, the air thicker. You open it without hesitation.
There he stands, still wearing the same smooth, calm demeanor as before, but there’s something different this time. His intense eyes… they don’t just survey the space. They’re on you. The air between you both feels charged.
“Hello,” he says, the words almost too casual, too smooth. He steps inside, and without invitation like he usually does. He walks past you, invading the space of your room. You’re not really sure if you want him here in your room, but there’s an undeniable attraction in your chest for him. It’s like you’re being tugged toward him despite your better judgment.
"I didn’t think you’d let me in today," he says, voice dripping with a quiet, smug satisfaction.
You can feel your heart pounding as he steps closer, his eyes locking onto yours with that same unnerving confidence. The tension in the air is almost palpable.
“Why are you here?” you ask, your voice low but trembling with a mixture of frustration and something else you refuse to acknowledge. You feel like you’ve been backed into a corner, but this time... you don’t mind it.
“I told you,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “You can’t escape it. We both know it’s been leading to this.”
His hands brush against yours as he walks past you again, casually reaching up to close the door behind him. The click of the lock sounds louder than it should.
"You don’t know how badly I wanted to hear you say that," he says, his voice low and controlled, the same calmness that’s always unnerved you. "Say it. Say you want this."
Your breath catches in your throat, the words sticking, but something inside you makes the decision for you. "I want this," you whisper, almost against your will, the admission slipping out before you can stop it.
His smile widens, and that’s when you see it. The stupid satisfaction in his eyes, the knowing, predatory glint. He’s been waiting for this. And now, so are you.
Without another word, his hand finds your wrist, pulling you toward him with an undeniable force. You stumble but don’t resist. You never do.
His lips meet yours. The kiss was slow, deliberate, almost too gentle for a man who’s spent days pushing you into a dark corner. You hesitate for only a second before your body starts to react, betraying your mind.
You can feel him smile against your lips as you kiss back, your pulse racing. His hand slides up your spine, pulling you flush against him. His other hand snakes around your waist, pressing you harder against him, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.
“You’ve been waiting for this,” he whispers between kisses, his voice darker now. His hands roam—never rushing, but never giving you a chance to catch your breath. “Admit it.”
You shake your head, but the words come out anyway. “I didn’t want this. I–” You cut yourself off with a moan as he presses his hips against you, his body heat radiating through his clothes.
“Don’t lie,” he murmurs against your skin, trailing kisses along your neck, his lips brushing so delicately that it sends a shiver down your spine. “You wanted it the moment you picked up that phone.”
Your hands move on their own, reaching for him, for more of the feeling. Or whatever it is that’s coursing through your veins. The lines of what’s right and wrong blur, and all you know is that you can’t stop now.
He pulls back, looking into your eyes as he unbuttons your shirt, each move deliberate. He watches your expression carefully, gauging your reactions like a predator. “Say it again,” he demands, his voice sharp. “Tell me you want this.”
Your body betrays you as you breathe, “I want this.”
A soft laugh escapes him, dark and pleased. “Good.”
His hands move quickly, and in the next breath, your clothes are discarded, the cold air hitting your bare skin. But the sensation of his hands on you, the heat of his touch… it’s enough to set your whole body on fire.
He leans in, his lips brushing your ear, his voice barely a whisper. “I told you that you’d never be able to walk away from this. I’ll make sure you never want to.”
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vibelladonna · 2 months ago
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❛ 𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻𝒾𝓈𝒽 ❜ 𝜗𝜚 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒 𝓍 𝑔𝓃!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇
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𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: After an unexpected rescue mission in the rain, you and Crowe find yourselves back in your cozy apartment with a rescued kitten snuggled up and safe. The night takes a gentle turn toward intimacy as the shared warmth of your bond grows deeper. Amidst horror movies and stolen glances, quiet affection blossoms into something undeniable.
Will Crowe finally let his walls crumble and allow you closer, or will he keep you at arm’s length?
𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's (@fantasia-kitt) intentions. Spoilers From Day 1 and Day 2 The Kid At The Back. (More like Inspo lines)
𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓈: Gender Neutral! Reader, Cuddling, Pillow talk, Fluff then Smut, Making out, Heavy Touching, Neck kisses, dry-humping, moaning, praise (receiving, and giving), Some hair pulling, and oral sex (giving).
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The rain fell in relentless sheets, hammering against the pavement and turning the city into a glittering mosaic of slick streets and refracted light. You and Crowe barely made it back to your apartment, soaked to the bone, arms laden with grocery bags. Crowe cradled something against his chest—a tiny, drenched kitten trembling within the warmth of his vest.  
“Here,” he said, his deep voice resonating with a softness that caught you off guard. There was a tender urgency in his tone as he carefully shifted the kitten into your hands. “This little one needs warmth.”  
You nodded without hesitation, setting the groceries down with a thud and immediately rifling through your closet. Old t-shirts, a scarf you hadn’t worn in years—it all piled into a makeshift nest inside an empty shoebox. As you worked, Crowe watched in quiet approval, his tall frame silhouetted in the warm light of your apartment.  
The kitten let out a faint meow, curling into the soft fabric as though it had found sanctuary. Crowe crouched beside the box, his dark brown hair still damp and half-undone from the rain. Strands clung stubbornly to his sharp jawline, which he brushed aside with a graceful flick of his fingers.  
“You’re soaked,” you said, gesturing toward his clinging black button-up, which outlined his broad shoulders and hinted at the strong, lean frame beneath. “Go shower before you catch a cold.” He hesitated, his deep blue eyes flicking to yours, searching for something unspoken. Then, with a small nod, he rose and disappeared toward the bathroom.  
When it was finally your turn, the hot water felt like heaven on your chilled skin. Steam wrapped around you like a comforting embrace, but it did little to chase away the vivid image of Crowe—his quiet care for the kitten, the rain tracing the contours of his face, the almost regal grace in his movements. He was magnetic, the kind of person you couldn’t ignore, no matter how much you tried.  
When you emerged, bundled in an oversized hoodie and fleece shorts, Crowe was already seated on your couch. He’d traded his drenched clothes for a gray sweatshirt and sweatpants you’d lent him. The casual attire softened his presence in a way that caught you off guard. His long hair, now untied and damp, framed his face with unintentional elegance, every strand catching the glow of the lamp behind him.  
The plan was to watch a movie—something simple, a classic slasher with predictable jump scares. But your attention refused to cooperate. As the ominous soundtrack droned on, your eyes kept drifting to him. His profile was serene, his gaze distant yet intensely thoughtful. He shifted slightly, and you became acutely aware of the small space between you.  
“Hey,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was low, and intimate, as if the question wasn’t meant to be shared with the world. “If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?”  
You blinked, startled by the question and the way his attention focused solely on you. “Another one of your trivia questions, Crowe?” you teased, trying to mask the nervous flutter in your chest. Stretching your arms casually, you laughed lightly, but he didn’t respond in kind.  
Instead, he leaned closer, the air between you charged with something unspoken. His breath brushed your cheek, sending an involuntary shiver through you.  
“Wh-why don’t you answer first?” you stammered, the words barely audible.  
He chuckled a low, warm sound that made your skin prickle. Then, to your surprise, he rested his head on your shoulder, the weight of him both grounding and electrifying. Before you could muster a response, he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Your breath hitched, and you prayed he couldn’t hear the erratic drumming of your heart.  
“Dodging the question, huh?” he murmured, his voice tinged with amusement but carrying an undercurrent of something more profound.  
“Well…” He paused as if searching for the right words. “If I could have anything in this world… I’d want more time. More time to be with you. More time to spend like this.” His voice softened, tinged with a vulnerability that caught you off guard.
“Kind of selfish, huh?”  His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.
You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, and your chest tightened at the sight. His gaze was downcast, his usual confidence replaced by something raw and unguarded. Though he smiled faintly, it didn’t reach his eyes.  
At that moment, you didn’t know whether he was speaking to you or himself, but the desperation in his expression was unmistakable. And it left you breathless.  
“You’re staring,” Crowe murmured, his lips curving into a faint, teasing smirk. Your cheeks burned, the heat spreading up your neck as you realized how obvious you’d been. “Your hair’s long,” You blurted out, instantly regretting the flat, unpolished observation. Your hands fidgeted in your lap, betraying the nervousness.  
Crowe raised a brow, his fingers lazily trailing up to brush through the loose strands grazing his collarbone. The motion was unhurried, almost calculated. “Is that a bad thing?” he asked, his tone carrying a hint of curiosity but mostly playful provocation.  
“No! No, it’s…” You stumbled over your words, your voice dropping to a softer register as your gaze lingered on his hair, the rich brown strands catching the light. “It’s nice,” They finally said, the admission almost shy.  
Crowe chuckled, a low, velvety sound that sent a flutter through your chest. “Just nice, huh?” he said, his amusement laced with challenge. His gaze swept over your face, reading your every reaction as if it were a game he’d already mastered. “Not beautiful? Stunning? Majestic like a warrior’s mane after a victorious battle?”  
You rolled your eyes, trying to play off the embarrassment. “I wouldn’t go that far…” You mumbled, your voice barely audible as they looked away.  
He laughed again, the sound brighter this time, the sight of his smile drawing your attention back to him. You were captivated, the world narrowing to just Crowe at that moment. His movements were subtle but deliberate as he leaned closer, the distance between them shrinking.
His voice dipped to a low murmur that sent a shiver racing down your spine. “But what if I said I want you to go that far?”  
As he spoke, his hand moved, fingers brushing just barely against the edge of yours where they rested in your lap. The contact was featherlight, yet it sparked like static electricity, sending a straight jolt. You froze, your breath hitching, the heat in your cheeks now rivaling the pounding in your chest. Crowe’s eyes, gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something deeper, locked onto yours.  
“Can I…?” Your voice wavered, your hand hovering uncertainly in the air between them.  
Crowe tilted his head slightly, his intrigue evident in the slow curl of his lips. “What is it you want to do, hm?” he asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper. His steady gaze never left yours, his stillness almost daring you to close the distance.  
You hesitated, your hand trembling as it lingered in the space between them. Your heart raced, your breathing shallow as they searched his face for any sign of hesitation. Instead, his expression softened, and with a slow, almost imperceptible nod, he gave his silent permission.  
Your fingertips brushed against his hair, hesitant at first. The strands were softer than they’d imagined, slipping between your fingers like silk. You exhaled a shaky breath they hadn’t realized they’d been holding. “I just… wanted to feel it,” they murmured, your voice a quiet admission.  
Crowe’s eyes closed briefly as if savoring the light touch. A subtle shiver ran through him, but the smile tugging at his lips was unmistakable. When he opened his eyes again, they were locked onto yours, their intensity making your pulse quicken. "Satisfied?" he asked softly, though the teasing glint in his eyes suggested he already knew the answer.  
"Is it as majestic as I described it?" Crowe’s voice carried a blend of playful mischief and genuine curiosity, his dark eyes twinkling as he watched you.  
Your hand continued its gentle motion, fingers gliding through the soft strands of his hair, your touch almost reverent. The faint blush creeping across your cheeks betrayed you otherwise calm demeanor. You tried to focus on the rhythmic motion of your hand, but the sensation—his hair softer than you’d expected—was strangely grounding and intoxicating all at once.  
Your breath hitched as you felt the weight of his gaze on you, an intensity that seemed to see more than you were ready to reveal. Still, his playful tone softened the tension, coaxing you to respond. "It’s... softer than I expected," You admitted, your voice barely louder than the whisper of the rain against the windows.  
Crowe’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. "Smoother, you say?" he repeated, his voice dropping to a sultry murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. He leaned in, ever so slightly, his breath ghosting across your cheek.  
"Just how soft did you expect it to be, hm?" Your heart stuttered; senses heightened, catching the faintest details—the warmth radiating from him, the subtle scent of his cologne—close to blueberries mixed with something uniquely Crowe.  
Your fingers trembled as they brushed the strands of his hair framing his face, the silky texture tantalizing against your skin. Crowe’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, savoring your touch. "Does it bother you to keep it this long?" You ventured, voice tentative, almost fragile in the intimacy of the moment.  
He opened his eyes, meeting yours with a softness "No," he murmured. "But sometimes... it gets in the way while I’m running errands around the building.”  
You felt the corners of your lips curve slightly, a tiny, conspiratorial smile. "You always be working and take care of everyone else… even me.” You mentioned, your voice quiet yet firm. "Let someone take care of you for once."  
Your words seemed to catch him off guard. His gaze darkened—not with anger but with a vulnerability so raw it made his breath hitch. Slowly, his hand reached up, fingers roughened by life’s demands, brushing against your cheek with a tenderness they hadn’t expected.  
"I’m not used to that," he admitted, the words heavy with unspoken meaning. His eyes searched yours, as though seeking assurance. "I don’t... usually let myself be taken care of."  
The weight of his confession settled between them. You found yourself unable to look away. Your free hand came to rest on his shoulder, the fabric of his shirt soft beneath your fingers. You traced idle patterns there, feeling the heat of his skin just beneath the surface, grounding yourself in his presence.  
"Why not?" You asked softly, your voice like a gentle breeze coaxing the truth from him.  
Crowe’s gaze flickered down, watching the slow, deliberate movements of your fingers as though they held answers he didn’t yet have. He hesitated, his brows furrowing slightly in thought. "I’m... not sure," he confessed, his tone contemplative. "I guess I’ve always been the one to look after others. It’s just what I know."  
His honesty hung between them like an unspoken promise, and for a moment, time seemed to pause. You let the silence stretch, your hand still tracing circles on his shoulder. Slowly, deliberately, you leaned in just enough for your forehead to graze his, your voice a whisper that barely bridged the gap.  
"Then maybe it’s time you let someone teach you."  
Crowe’s eyes flicked back to yours, locking onto your gaze. There was a flicker of surprise and uncertainty in his expression as if the very idea of someone wanting to take care of him, let alone you, was an entirely foreign concept. And yet, it carried a strange allure, something that stirred deep within him. He didn’t speak at first, his silence hanging between them like an unspoken question. 
Finally, he gave a small, tentative nod.  
“You… want to?” he asked, his voice tinged with both wonder and disbelief. His brow furrowed, his cheeks warming with an unmistakable blush. “You’d want to… take care of me?” His voice softened further, almost shy. “Like how? What… what are you gonna do?”  
You tilted your head, lips curving into a soft, knowing smile. His earnestness, the vulnerability in his question, made your heartache most sweetly. You let the moment linger, the air thick with unspoken emotions, as if to let him absorb the gravity of his trust in you.  
Your hand, which had been resting lightly on his shoulder, began to move in slow, deliberate strokes. Your fingertips brushed across the fabric of his shirt before traveling to the base of his neck, where they lingered, tracing slow, deliberate circles against his skin. The heat of your touch sent a shiver down his spine, his breath catching in his throat as his body instinctively leaned into the sensation.  
“How about…” You murmured, your voice was soft and soothing, almost like a lullaby. “…you let me decide that?”  
Crowe swallowed hard, his mind racing with a mixture of apprehension and intrigue. The thought of relinquishing control was daunting, almost terrifying. And yet, the softness in your voice, the gentleness of your touch, coaxed something in him to let go. He hesitated only for a moment before nodding again, this time with a hint of more certainty.  
“All right,” he said quietly, his voice laced with surrender. “I… I’ll let you decide.”  
Your heart skipped a beat at his words, at the quiet admission that he was willing to trust you in a way that seemed so out of character for him. Crowe, the ever-composed, always-in-control student council leader, allowing himself to be cared for—it was a rare, precious moment.  
You adjusted your position slightly, your movements are fluid and intentional. Your hand on his neck urged him to lean back against the couch as you shifted closer. “Relax,” You whispered, encouraging yet firm. Your other hand came up to gently push him back, just enough for him to rest more comfortably.  
His eyes darted to yours, seeking reassurance, before he finally allowed himself to recline. His shoulders sagged slightly as the tension began to flow away. You shifted beside him, your thigh brushing against his as they leaned in closer, your presence grounding him.  
“Close your eyes,” You instructed.
He obeyed, his lashes fluttering shut. The world around him faded into darkness, leaving only the sensation of your touch and the faint rustle of fabric as you adjusted yourself once more. Your fingers continued their soothing motion at the nape of his neck, and he felt your legs shift as you moved deliberately.  
Before he could fully register the change, your thigh slid over his lap, your weight settling as you straddled him. The closeness, the intimacy of your position, sent a rush of warmth flooding through him. He inhaled sharply, his hands instinctively moving to rest at your sides, though his touch remained hesitant, unsure.  
You leaned in, breath warm against his cheek, lips hovering just near his ear. “Just let me take care of you,” You murmured, your voice low and soft, a seductive blend of promise and reassurance.  
Crowe exhaled shakily, his body betraying his need to resist, yet failing. He could feel himself yielding, the last threads of hesitation unraveling in your presence.  
Your lips brushed against his ear, a fleeting caress that sent shivers cascading down his spine. You shifted, pressing your body closer as you straddled him fully, their closeness intoxicating. He could feel your heat, your heartbeat steady against his, as you moved with deliberate intention. Your fingers trailed gently along his jawline, your touch light as air but carrying an electrifying weight.  
"Let go," You whispered again. 
Crowe’s hands, which had been gripping your sides in an instinctive bid for control, faltered. They trembled slightly before slipping away entirely, falling to rest in his lap as he surrendered to the overwhelming sensations they was awakening. “I…” he began, his voice thick and strained, but the words caught in his throat.  
“Please?” You asked, tilting your head as your lips found the curve of his neck. You pressed the faintest kiss there, your warm breath fanning across his skin. Slowly, deliberately, you began your descent, lips tracing the line of his neck with tender persistence. You paused just long enough to let him feel every lingering kiss, every fleeting brush of your mouth, before moving lower.  
The tension in his body craved and flowed with every touch. He tensed as your lips found the hollow at the base of his neck, then relaxed again as they pressed a kiss just above his collarbone. You smiled against his skin, sensing the shiver that coursed through him.  
Your hands moved in tandem with your lips, sliding from his jaw to the nape of his neck, your fingers threading gently through his hair. “Just feel,” They murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as they continued your path, leaving a trail of soft, heated kisses along his chest.  
Crowe’s breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with your movements. Every kiss, every touch, seemed to peel away another layer of his guarded composure, leaving him bare and vulnerable before you. He closed his eyes tightly, surrendering completely to the unfamiliar yet exhilarating flood of sensations.  
You paused for a moment, lips hovering just over his sternum. You looked up at him, a soft hum of satisfaction escaping as you took in his expression—the furrow of his brows, the slight parting of his lips, the way his head tilted back just slightly. He was yours at this moment, completely and utterly.
"You’re doing so well," You whispered against his skin, pressing another kiss to his chest. "Just keep letting go." 
His fingers curled into the fabric of his sweatpants, knuckles whitening with the force of his grip. It was the only anchor he could find as he surrendered to the sensations flooding him, a steady burn that spread through his chest and pooled in his lower stomach. His breaths came in shallow bursts, and his body quaked under the unfamiliar weight of letting go, of yielding control.
Every nerve was alive, hyper-attuned to your touch, and the soothing cadence of your voice was like a salve for the storm within him.  
He clenched his jaw, trying to steady himself. When your lips brushed the hollow of his throat, a tremor passed through him, sharp and undeniable. His hand twitched, releasing its grip on his sweatpants, fingers ghosting over the edge of your shoulder as if seeking permission to hold onto yours instead. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, and finally managed to whisper your name.  
“Please…” His voice cracked, barely audible, but the sound carried a rawness that struck you. “…Wait a sec.” You paused, lips hovering just above his skin, breath warm against his neck.
A flicker of something gentle crossed your expression as you sensed the vulnerability emanating from him—the way his chest heaved, the fine tremor in his frame, and the palpable tension that coiled beneath your touch.  
"Yes...?" You murmured, tilting your head slightly to catch his gaze. Your eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and playfulness. He inhaled shakily, trying to form the words. His heart pounded against his ribs as though it sought an escape. "I can't…" he started, his voice rough, words tumbling out before he could stop them. "We can't… everything feels… intense."  
Your lips curved into a soft smile, a hand coming to rest over his chest, where his heartbeat thundered against your palm. "I know," They said, your voice like a quiet melody. Your lips brushed the pulse point in his neck, featherlight and deliberate. "It's a lot, isn't it? But you’re doing so well."  
He stiffened beneath you, his hands finally rising to hold your arms, steadying you but also grounding himself. "That’s not my point," he rasped, voice breaking slightly. He pulled back just enough to see your face. "I have loved you since the day I met you. I need to know how you feel—before we…" His breath caught, his gaze searching yours. "Before we go any further. I don’t want this to be… casual."  
The air between them shifted, heavy with unspoken emotions. You froze, his confession ringing in your ears. For a heartbeat, you didn’t move, your thoughts whirling. But then, warmth spread through your chest, melting the tension that had momentarily gripped you. Slowly, your hands rose to cradle his face, thumbs brushing gently against his cheekbones.  
"I…" You began, voice soft but trembling. "I feel the same. I have for so long, but I was scared. Scared to lose you, scared to ruin this… us."  
Relief washed over him, his hands falling to your waist as he let your words settle. He closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly. "I never wanted to risk us either," he admitted. "But I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I couldn’t keep pretending."  
Your lips parted, a shaky laugh escaping as you leaned your forehead against his. "No wonder you kept finding excuses to spend more time with me," You teased, your voice low, tinged with affection. Your fingers trailed down to rest on his chest, "You can be selfish with me, Crowe. I’m yours, you know that. I’ve always been yours."  
His lips curled into a tender smile, the vulnerability in your voice and the weight of your words filling him with a kind of courage he hadn’t known he possessed. He tightened his hold on you slightly as if afraid you might vanish if he didn’t. "I’m yours too," he murmured, his voice a quiet promise. "And I don’t just want time with you. I want everything. All of you."  
Your breath hitched as his thumb traced along your jawline, his touch delicate yet firm, leaving trails of warmth. His other hand slid from your waist to your back, holding you securely. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze locked onto yours.  
"May I?" he asked, his voice low, almost reverent.  
You felt the question in your core, chest tightening and loosening all at once. Your body leaned into him instinctively, every fiber of you being answering before your voice could. When you finally spoke, words were a whisper against his lips. "Yes. Please."  
Crowe moved slowly, his lips brushing against yours with a softness that belied the intensity coursing through him. The kiss deepened naturally, a shared hunger and longing driving them closer. Your hands tangled in his hair, your body pressing against his.
Crowe’s lips were soft but insistent, moving against yours with a purpose that left no room for doubt. His hand on your waist tightened, drawing you closer until the inner part of your thighs brushed against his lower abdomen. The heat of his body was a sharp contrast to the cool dampness still clinging to the air. 
Your fingers, still tangled in his hair, instinctively tugged, earning a low, almost inaudible groan from him. The sound sent a shiver through you, making your heart race even faster. Encouraged, you deepened the kiss, your lips parting slightly to invite him in. His response was immediate, a soft flick of his tongue against yours that left you dizzy.  
Crowe pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his own. His breaths are heavy, matching yours, and you beheld his red face and hair messier than before. His eyes, those piercing deep blue eyes, searched yours for any hesitation.  
“Am I going too fast?” he asked, his voice husky and lower than usual.  
You shook your head, barely able to form words. “No… it’s perfect.”   
At that, his lips quirked into a small smile—rare and heart-stopping. “Is this a dream? I hope not. If I’m in a dream, please tell the sleeping me to never wake up. I want to live in this dream forever.” His free hand slid to the small of your back, guiding you effortlessly deeper into his lap. The movement was fluid like he’d imagined this a hundred times before.
“Will this convince you it’s not a dream?” You lean closer to his face and place a peck on his cheek. “Mmm.. maybe. But I think this would convince me.” He captures your lips swiftly. He pries your mouth open by pushing in his tongue, exploring you further, and muffing your moans with his intense kiss. 
You gasp, now feeling one hand slip beneath your hoodie, splaying across the bare skin of your lower back. The other tangled in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss further. His lips left yours briefly, trailing along your jaw and down the column of your neck to nibble at the soft flesh. 
“Now people will… know you’re mine.” You gasped when his teeth grazed a particularly sensitive spot, and he chuckled softly against your skin. “You sound so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice laced with satisfaction.
Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath the soft fabric of his shirt. The rhythm of his heart beneath your palm was as erratic as your own, a reassuring sign that he wasn’t as composed as he seemed. 
“Crowe,” you whispered, barely able to hear your voice over the pounding in your ears. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze again, his expression raw and unguarded.
“Please say my real name,” he murmured, his tone almost pleading.  
“Jericho,” you corrected, savoring the way his name felt on your lips. He let out a shaky exhale, his hands tightening their grip on you. His lips found yours again, this time rougher, more desperate.
His hips shifted beneath you, and the friction drew a soft moan from your throat. “Do you have any idea,” he breathed between kisses, “how long I’ve wanted this?”  
The heat between them was undeniable, the air practically crackling with energy. Every touch and every movement seemed to amplify the heady rush of desire rushing through their veins.
When his hips rocked against your own, another soft gasp escaped your lips, the friction so new, so sweet. Jericho presses himself against you, feeling the bulge within the confinements of his pants.
You gripped his shoulders tighter, steadying yourself as your thoughts became hazy with each press of his lips to your skin, proceeding to attack your neck with nibbles, determined to leave multiple marks instead of one. 
Your voice, already breathless, managed a shaky reply, "No, but I... I'm sure it's half as long as I've wanted you." Suddenly, he pulled you closer, his hips rocking gently against yours in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Each movement brought a gasp or a groan to your lips, the friction between you growing more heated with every second. 
“Please let me make you wonderful,” Jericho murmured against your neck, his voice low and soft… all of it was a delicious yet torturous sensory overload.
And at his murmured plea, your breath caught in your throat, snapping your consciousness back. Your fingers tightened on his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Jericho," They managed your voice a ragged breath. “I’m the one supposed to make you feel good.”
Jericho pulled back slightly, enough to meet your gaze, "You... already make me feel good," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "Just being here with you... it makes me feel more alive than anything else." His eyes filled with love, desire, and lust. “Would you let me?” He begged, “I promise to make you feel great. I want you to feel amazing.”
His words were spoken with such sincere conviction and lust. The raw honesty in them, the way he looked at you… You couldn't help yours; your fingers left his shoulders to gently cup his face. “I don't just mean at this moment," They said softly, your thumb brushing over his cheek. "I mean... I want to make you feel good in every way possible. I want..."  
You faltered, unsure how much you dared to say aloud. Instead, you shifted, sliding off his lap and onto your knees before him. The movement was fluid yet intentional, your gaze never leaving his as you knelt at his feet, 
Jericho swallowed, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the sight of you at his feet. It was a sight he had never imagined before, yet now it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. "What... what are you doing?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.
You could see the surprise, the hint of confusion mixed with a heady sort of excitement in his eyes as they knelt before him. The position was submissive, yes, but it gave you a unique sort of control over the situation.  
Your hands, now free, rose to rest on his thighs, your fingers tracing small circles on the inner fabric of his sweatpants. Your voice was soft and firm 
"I'm taking care of you," They said quietly. "So just... lean back and relax." Your hand slithers to the base of his sweatpants.
Jericho let out a low, shaky breath as your fingers brushed his skin, the fleeting touch electrifying. Shivers coursed up his spine, and he bit down on a gasp, his eyes dark with a mixture of lust and anticipation. “Have you ever done this before?” he asked softly, his hands hesitating for a moment before helping you slide his sweatpants and boxers down in one smooth motion.  
You hesitated, your cheeks warming under his gaze. “No… Is that a bad thing?” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.  
He shook his head immediately, his lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. “No, it’s not a bad thing,” he said, his tone gentle yet weighted with emotion. “If anything… it makes it all the more special.” But then his expression shifted, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face. He looked at you almost apologetically. “I’m sorry about this.”  
You tilted your head in confusion. “Hm? About what?”  
The moment the fabric pooled at his feet, the answer became crystal clear. Vulnerability washed over Jericho as he leaned back slightly, his chest rising and falling with steady, deep breaths. Your eyes widened in surprise, freezing as they landed on the sight before you.  
He cleared his throat, a hint of self-consciousness in his tone. “Uh… it gets a little bigger when I’m fully hard. Just thought I’d warn you.” His cheeks flushed a light pink, a rare vulnerability breaking through his usually composed demeanor.  
For a brief moment, you were speechless, caught between awe and disbelief. The sheer size of him was… impressive, to say the least. You swallowed hard, the dryness in your throat suddenly impossible to ignore. A nervous laugh almost bubbled up, but it was stifled by the intensity of the moment.  
“I… see,” you managed to say, your voice soft but tinged with a teasing edge. Your lips twitched into a small smirk. “A little bit bigger, huh? I’m curious to see just how much more it grows.”  
Jericho chuckled lightly at your words, his nervousness easing ever so slightly. Still, he reached out, his hand brushing your arm as if to steady both of you. “Take your time,” he said gently, his voice a soothing balm to your nervous energy. “Ease into it. And, uh… it’s okay if your teeth touch, just—maybe try not to bite down?”  
A laugh escaped you this time, a blend of amusement and nerves. “I’ll do my best to keep my jaws in check,” you teased, the shy undertone in your voice making the moment feel strangely intimate.  
Your fingers trembled slightly as you reached out, your touch tentative but curious. The warmth of him against your palm was startling, the weight and solidity grounding you. Your grip adjusted instinctively, firm but careful, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Jericho.  
“Let me know if I hurt you,” you murmured, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.  
He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gave a quick nod. “You won’t,” he assured you, his voice rough with restraint.  
You glanced up, meeting his gaze. There was something intoxicating in the way his eyes burned with trust and desire. Leaning forward, you let your lips brush against the sensitive tip of his cock, soft and deliberate.  
A low, guttural moan escaped him, his head falling back against the bed. His hands clenched at his sides, resisting the urge to move and disrupt your rhythm. “Gods,” he muttered, his voice breaking.  
Encouraged by his reaction, you placed a series of soft kisses along the reddened head, your movements exploratory yet tender. Jericho’s breaths grew heavier, his chest rising and falling with each passing second. He forced himself to remain still, his muscles tensing as he let you set the pace, his desire to guide overshadowed by his determination to let you take your time.  
Your lips curled into a small smile as you continued, the moment feeling raw and unfiltered. Slowly, the tension began to melt away, replaced by a shared sense of trust and discovery.  
Jericho sighed when they took his lenght in your mouth. It’s already bigger than when he first pulled it out, quickly growing hard despite his reluctance to hold back. You feel it press in past your lips, dragging across your tongue, and finally hit the back of your throat. That’s it. That’s as far as it goes, right?
Looking forward, you can see that he’s not in your mouth. “Try to relax your throat,” he tells you. “That’s it, you’re doing good.” Jericho prasied. His voice sends goosebumps across your skin as his massive cock slides even further in, going partially down your throat. 
“Make sure to breathe through your nose,” he added. 
Your hands are on his thighs, gripping the fabric of his pants. You’re gagging slightly, trying to keep it under control and focus on breathing. After what feels like forever, your jaw is sore, and your throat aches.
Tears fill your eyes, which Jericho notices and looks at you guiltily before moving one large hand over to gently rub the top of your head. “Good girl,” he says, “you’re taking me well.”
The statement makes heat spread over your face. Then you remember that you’re supposed to be making him cum. The thought of it makes you excited somehow. You feel the urge to pleasure him, to make him feel good. He’s been so sweet to you, after all. He hasn’t moved at all, letting you do things at your own pace. Looking up at his face, it’s clearer than ever how gorgeous he is. 
You tighten your lips around his base, your tongue gliding across the underside of his cock while your tight throat constricts around his tip. He looks down at you suddenly, deep blue eyes slightly widened. You give him a tentative swirl of your tongue.
He can’t tear his eyes away as he watches you work your magic on him. The sight of you, the feel of your tongue, it’s the most incredible and overwhelming thing he’s ever experienced. He can’t help but let out another deep, guttural moan as the sensations wash over him. “Gods, yes. Just like that,” he pants, his voice low and rough.
“You’re so good at this. So damn good.” He reaches out, gently tangling his fingers in your hair, not to control your movements but just to have something to hold onto. 
The inside of your mouth felt nice and warm, causing him to shudder from the sensation. Eventually, his hand grips your hair and, for the first time, unintentionally thrusts into your throat. You feel a bit of force from him as he pushes your head down, his cock going halfway down your throat and almost choking you. 
Jericho lets out a low moan as you suck faster, wanting to hear the desperate need for ecstasy while taking pleasure from each sound he makes. He grips your hair roughly and throws his head back, but you don’t seem to mind. After all, you want him to make more sounds.  
You take the entire cock inside your mouth again, feeling the cock becoming harder than before, nodding your head up and down and swirling your tongue around his cock, making sure to aim for the tip as well, savoring the pre-cum taste. Your eyes travel to his face, beholding the euphoric expression as he bites his lips, feeling you lick the slightest bit of cum that leaks from him, 
Jericho could barely hold himself together as you pleasured him, his head spinning and his body writhing. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with lust and intense with love.
“You’re... you’re driving me crazy,” he managed, his voice rough and breathless. “…God.” His moans and gasps are like music to your ears, fueling that excitement as they suck and move your head in all the ways that they know will drive him wild.
“Mmh.” You suck faster and faster, your fingers fumbling with his balls as your swallow his cock even deeper down your throat—he didn’t think any more could be possible.
He’s so deep in your throat that whenever you thrust his cock in, your nose nearly touches his pelvis. Jericho can’t help but thrust your mouth down his needy cock down your throat again.
Immediately, you feel his warm cum flood your mouth, coating the back of your tongue and oozing down your neck. His hand quickly releases you, “Sorry, love, I couldn’t help it…” He mutters another apology. His face looks slightly flushed, and he’s breathing a little harder.
Oh god, he looks so hot right now—is all you think about, feeling the growing dampness between your legs as you stare up at him, his now soft cock still in your mouth. 
“No one’s ever made me feel this way before. Gods, you’re... incredible,” Jericho murmurs, his voice heavy with awe and lingering desire. His words hang in the air, electric and intimate. The way he looks at you—half in disbelief, half in reverence—sends a shiver down your spine.
Without hesitation, you lean forward, your lips brushing against the velvety, slick surface of his cock. Your tongue darts out, teasing the sensitive tip, and you savor the salty-sweet taste that lingers there. Slowly, deliberately, you begin to suckle, your tongue swirling and pressing against every ridge and curve. A soft moan escapes his lips, though he quickly clamps his mouth shut, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard.
Jericho’s chest heaves and his hands grip the soft couch beneath him, knuckles whitening as he fights to stay still. His breath hitches, and he glances away, the flush on his cheeks deepening as he battles the urge stirring within him. His jaw tightens, and he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again to find you. 
“You’re... you’re sure you want to keep going?” he asks, his voice strained and hoarse. Despite the question, his fingers reach out instinctively, trailing down the side of your face.
His touch is warm, trembling ever so slightly as if he's trying to ground himself. “I don’t want to wear you out,” he adds, his brows furrowing even as his lips part to let out a shallow exhale.
You pause for a moment, meeting his gaze with a soft smile, and your heart clenches at the mixture of vulnerability and yearning in his eyes. There's a rawness to him, an unguarded honesty that makes your chest tighten with affection. His concern feels genuine, but so does the hunger simmering beneath his words—a need he can’t quite hide.
Jericho looks down at you again, his heart pounding so loudly you can almost hear it. His disheveled hair falls into his eyes, and he brushes it back absentmindedly, the action making him seem almost boyish in his tenderness.
Despite the way his breathing is still uneven, he manages to smile faintly. “You’ve already done such a good job,” he says softly, his fingers brushing over your messy hair in an almost reverent gesture.
You feel a pang of something deep and inexplicable—a selfish kind of love, one that makes you want to claim and cherish every part of him. The thought takes root in your chest, blooming with a quiet intensity.
Jericho’s hand lingers on your cheek, his thumb grazing the edge of your jaw, and you realize that, for this moment, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than here, tangled in his warmth his selfish love. 
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sirenedeslily · 3 months ago
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matt is 𝒕𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 of 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 you. 𑇓 ⊹ ᳝ ࣪ | ( clingybf!matt & fem!reader ) fluff + soft hours. established relationship 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 wc 751
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matt sat quietly at the table, his hand resting lightly on your thigh as you chattered animatedly with your friends. his rings, a mix of silver and black, glinted under the warm restaurant lights as his thumb idly traced circles against the fabric of your jeans. his tattoos peeked out from beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his button up, a sharp contrast to your vibrant, bubbly demeanor. you were leaning forward, your hands gesturing wildly as you told a story that had the whole group laughing, and matt couldn’t help but smile softly at the sight.
he loved watching you like this—bright, magnetic, effortlessly pulling everyone in. it wasn’t his world, but it was yours, and he admired how easily you fit into it. still, as the minutes stretched into an hour, and dessert plates had been cleared long ago, matt found himself shifting in his seat. he’d been patient—so, so patient—but the growing weight of the evening was pressing on him.
he glanced at you, your laughter ringing out as your friend added another joke. the sound made him smile, but his own exhaustion tugged at the edges of his patience. quietly, he leaned in, brushing his lips against your shoulder.
“love,” he murmured, voice low and soft, “can we go home now?”
you turned to him briefly, your eyes sparkling with affection. “just a little longer, matt. promise.”
he nodded, leaning back, but his hand stayed on your thigh, squeezing gently. for a while, he tried to focus on the conversation, on the rhythm of your voice, but all he could think about was how much he wanted to be alone with you. just you.
after a few more minutes, he leaned in again, this time kissing the corner of your mouth, his rings cool against your cheek as he cupped your face. “can we please go home now?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“matt,” you laughed softly, brushing him off. “i’m talking.”
you barely turned your head, flashing him an apologetic smile before diving back into the conversation. matt sighed dramatically, his fingers drumming against the table.
and that was when he gave up on being subtle.
sliding his chair closer to yours, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you firmly against him. his lips found your temple, then your cheek, then your jaw. he didn’t care that your friends were right there; he didn’t care that they were all smirking knowingly. his other hand moved to rest on your knee, his fingers tapping impatiently.
“you’ve been talking for hours,” he said, his voice taking on a teasing whine. “i’ve been good. i’ve waited. but i’m done waiting now. i want to go home.”
you gave him a playful look, trying to hold your ground. “it hasn’t been that long, matt.”
“it’s been forever,” he countered, his lips brushing against your neck. the tattoos that snaked up his arm flexed as he tightened his grip on your waist. “i love your friends, i do, but i don’t want to share you anymore. come on, baby. let’s go home.”
you could feel your resolve slipping as he pressed kiss after kiss along your jawline, his rings cool against your skin as he tilted your chin toward him. “matt,” you hissed through a giggle, “you’re being ridiculous, i’ll just be a few more minutes,” you promised, but matt was already nuzzling into your neck, his arms snaking around your waist. his warmth and the faint scent of his cologne made it increasingly difficult to focus on your friends.
“no, you won’t,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin. “you’ll keep talking, and i’ll just have to keep kissing you until you give in.”
“you’re being stubborn,” he shot back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “you know i’m shy.. i cant do pda. do you have any idea how desperate i have to be to act like this in front of everyone?”
your friends laughed, clearly enjoying the show, but matt didn’t care. he was done trying to blend into the background. right now, all he wanted was you—and he wasn’t above being clingy to get your attention.
“alright, alright,” you relented with a laugh, standing up and as he immediately took ahold of your purse. “let’s go home, clingy boy.”
matt’s face lit up instantly, his hand slipping into yours as he practically dragged you toward the door. “finally,” he sighed, pressing one last kiss to your temple as you walked out into the night.
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𝒢𝜚 💭 ��� ✸ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ∿ a lil bit of something before the big thing.. :3 miss u guys ! also this is VERY inspired by malcom todd’s sweet boy aswell as the layout being inspired by kiemiu ><
❝ 𝟐𝟐𝟐 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @carvedtits @et6rnalsun @wovenribbons @flouvela @eternaldecisions @elizabebabe @ncm9696 @marrykisskilled
❝ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @l34n @sturniolossss @lovingregulusblack @cl1tlover3000 @mattslolita @mattssgf @le4hsblog @brvtall @mattscoquette @chratts-left-ball @jetaimevous @angelesqve @starlace111 @secretlocket @starkeyszn @etherealval @slut4chriss @star-yawnznn @nickmillersn1gf @sturnsmia @tastesousweet @strnilolover @xoxo4chrisss
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tfwbluu · 22 days ago
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・ SESSION #1 ・
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pairing heeseung + sunghoon & f!reader 2191 words warnings mean!dom!hee & soft!dom!hoon threesome raw sex (stay safe!) oral (f & m rec.) double penetration (mouth & hole) fingering squirting cum eating(?) edging/overstimulation degradation/praise
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Receiving the keycard, you muttered a quiet “thank you” before heading toward the room. The sound of your footsteps filled the hallway until you reached the door. After scanning the keycard, you heard the soft click of the lock. Gently pushing the door open, you stepped inside and were immediately enveloped by a moody, intimate atmosphere.
The dimly lit room enveloped you in, the faint scent of sandalwood lingering in the air as your eyes adjusted to your surroundings. It wasn’t just the lavish furniture or the provocative decor that made your face flush—it was the tension that seemed to thrum in the air.
“My, not only are you late, but you didn’t even notice us,” a low, teasing voice called out behind you. A pair of arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close, making you flinch in surprise.
“Let her be,” another voice chimed in, smoother and more relaxed. “We have a fifteen-minute late policy, and she’s here at the ten-minute mark.” Finally turning your head, you were met with Sunghoon’s sharp gaze and charming smirk.
“Hi there, sweetheart.” He moved to stand in front of you, his presence magnetic, forcing you to tilt your head up to meet his eyes.
Both men were barely dressed, wearing nothing but loose robes that hung lazily off their shoulders, revealing glimpses of their toned, sculpted stomachs. The slight gap in the fabric left just enough to ignite your imagination, making it impossible not to wonder what lay hidden beneath. Their casual yet careful display of skin made your pulse quicken, the room suddenly feeling warmer.
“We’re pleased to be at your service,” Sunghoon murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, making your breath hitch. “You should be more careful. Any later, and we might’ve pounced on you.”
“Sorry,” you mumbled shyly, feeling your cheeks burn. “I just got so caught up with work… It's tiring.” Your hands instinctively found their way into his hair, letting him continue to trail kisses along your neck.
“Hmm? That still doesn’t excuse such tardiness,” Heeseung teased from behind, his warm breath ghosting over your ear.
“Oh, shush. Give her a break—she looks exhausted,” Sunghoon countered, shooting him a pointed glance. “Isn’t that why we're here?”
“Hmph, my patience is wearing thin. Get over with it,” Heeseung demanded, his grip on you tightening.
“Don’t mind him, angel. May I?” Sunghoon whispered, his fingers already hovering over the buttons of your blouse, waiting for your permission.
You nodded softly, and with deft fingers, he began unbuttoning your blouse, revealing more of your skin to their hungry gazes. Sunghoon hummed in approval, his lips traveling down to your shoulders as Heeseung unclasped your bra with practiced ease, tossing it to the corner without a care.
“So pretty…” Sunghoon murmured, his voice low and reverent as his hands skimmed over your now-bare skin. “We’re going to have so much fun devouring you.” He tugged you gently into a kiss, his lips firm yet soft, leaving you dizzy.
“Mhm… p-please,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper as their touch ignited a fire within you.
“Please what, angel?” Heeseung teased, his hands now fondling your sensitive nipples, rolling them between his fingers. “Use your words.”
“Please… fuck me,” you whined, your grip tightening on Sunghoon’s shoulders as desperation leaked into your voice.
“Say less, princess,” Sunghoon replied with a sly grin before scooping you up effortlessly into his arms, carrying you to the bed.
Sunghoon’s lips found yours the moment your back met the soft, plush sheets. His hands moved with practiced ease, skillfully unfastening your pants and slipping them off, leaving you in just your panties.
You let out a quiet, breathy moan against his lips, your body already reacting to his touch. The warmth of his hands, the way he kissed you—slow and deep—left you breathless. You felt the bed dip as Heeseung moved closer, breaking Sunghoon’s kiss with a commanding presence.
“Hoon, sit her on your lap,” Heeseung instructed, his tone low but firm. Sunghoon obeyed, pulling you onto his lap so your back was pressed snugly against his chest.
“Now,” Heeseung murmured, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips, “how about we teach you a lesson for being late?” His words sent a shiver through you as he leaned down, trailing soft kisses down your stomach until he reached the waistband of your panties. Without hesitation, he bit down on the fabric, tugging it down with his teeth, his eyes never leaving yours.
“Tsk, you’re already dripping,” Heeseung mocked, his hands spreading your legs apart, which Sunghoon eagerly held in place. His fingers hovered over your soaked folds, teasing you with featherlight touches that left you trembling.
“Hah… Please…” you whimpered, your voice desperate, a pout forming on your lips. “Need you so bad.”
“Mhm. Since you’re asking so nicely,” Heeseung mused, finally letting his fingers dip into your arousal, spreading it around before slowly pushing one, then two fingers into you.
“Fuck, yes—yes, right there,” you cried out, your head falling back against Sunghoon’s shoulder as Heeseung’s fingers curled inside you, hitting every perfect spot.
“Such a slutty little cunt,” Heeseung taunted, spitting on your pussy before moving his fingers faster, his thumb gently flicking over your clit. The sensation was overwhelming, your hips bucking involuntarily to meet his touch.
Your fingers clutched the sheets desperately, grasping for something—anything—as waves of sensation coursed through you. Sunghoon tilted your face toward him, his grip firm yet gentle, before capturing your lips in a heated, all-consuming kiss. He swallowed every desperate moan that spilled from you, deepening the connection, leaving you breathless and wanting more. His hands roamed your body, grounding you as Heeseung focused on driving you to the brink.
“P-please, I’m so close…” you mewled, your thighs trembling as the knot in your stomach tightened. Just as you were about to tip over the edge, Heeseung abruptly pulled his fingers away, leaving you shaking and desperate for release.
“No, no! P-please…!” you whined, your body quivering with frustration.
Heeseung tapped your swollen clit, smirking at your reaction. “Because you kept us waiting. Now you’ll learn how long 10 minutes can really feel,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery as he plunged his fingers back into you.
“Shh, I got you, angel,” Sunghoon murmured, his voice soft yet commanding as he pressed soothing kisses along your neck. “You’ve been such a good girl for us... you can take it.”
“F-Fuck! Please… haa… ‘m sorry…!” you whined, squirming in Sunghoon’s arms. His hold was firm yet comforting, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured sweet reassurances. But he made no move to stop Heeseung—only keeping you steady, letting him take his time with you.
Your moans spilled freely as Heeseung’s fingers moved with relentless precision, pushing you closer and closer to the edge, only to pull back at the last second, leaving you trembling in frustration. His touch was deliberate, every movement calculated to keep you wanting more. The contrast between his torment and Sunghoon’s gentle whispers sent shivers down your spine—one keeping you grounded, the other driving you mad with need.
“Shh… You’re doing so well,” Sunghoon murmured, though his hands betrayed his words, brushing against your sensitive bud before retreating, adding to your frustration.
The vicious cycle continued, each ruined orgasm leaving your body trembling, your sensitivity heightened with every denial. By the nine-minute mark, your resolve crumbled. With a loud, unrestrained cry, your body gave out, squirting around Heeseung’s fingers as your arousal coated his hand. You trembled uncontrollably, overwhelmed by the release you hadn’t been allowed to have.
Heeseung’s eyes darkened as he pulled his fingers away, gripping your jaw firmly to make you meet his gaze. “Did I say you could cum?” he asked, his tone sharp, though there was an undeniable smirk playing on his lips.
“I d-didn't mean to... ngh... ‘m sorry...” you whimpered, tears pooling in your eyes from the overstimulation.
Sunghoon pulled you closer to his chest, his hands gently stroking your trembling thighs, his voice soft and soothing. “Shh, it’s okay, angel,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. He turned his gaze to Heeseung. “Hyung, it’s almost been 10 minutes. I think she’s learned her lesson.”
Heeseung exhaled sharply, his gaze softening ever so slightly as he looked at your tear-streaked face. “Fine,” he muttered, releasing your jaw but not without brushing his thumb against your bottom lip.
Your body sank deeper into the bed as Sunghoon whispered, “You did good, angel. Next time, don’t keep us waiting.” He exchanged a look with Heeseung before they repositioned you. With ease, they placed you onto your back, sliding you sideways on the bed, leaving your head dangling slightly over the edge.
The mirror above reflected every inch of your vulnerability—your flushed face, trembling body, and the marks they had left behind. It only heightened the arousal pooling in your core.
Sunghoon leaned in between your legs, his breath fanning against your sensitive heat. “Such a pretty pussy,” he murmured before pressing a soft kiss to your clit, his lips wrapping around the sensitive bud. The gentle suction had your hips bucking involuntarily toward his face, your hands clenching the sheets as pleasure coursed through you.
Heeseung, standing beside the bed, tilted your chin back so your tear-filled eyes met his upside-down. “Be a good girl for us, hmm?” he coaxed, tapping the swollen tip of his cock against your parted lips.
Eager to please, you opened your mouth, and Heeseung wasted no time, pushing himself in until your lips wrapped snugly around him. “Ha… that’s it,” he groaned, gripping your neck lightly as he pushed deeper, your throat tightening around him. You gagged slightly at the intrusion, tears brimming in your eyes, but you welcomed him completely, letting him set the pace.
The moan that escaped you as Sunghoon licked and sucked at your clit sent vibrations up Heeseung’s length, drawing a guttural sound from him. Sunghoon paused to chuckle, pulling away from your soaked folds, his lips glistening with your arousal. “Pretty girl taking it so good, I feel left out,” he teased.
Without waiting for an answer, Sunghoon adjusted your legs, holding them firmly in his grip as he positioned himself. You barely had time to process the stretch as his cock pressed against your entrance, sliding in inch by inch. “Fuck, so tight,” Sunghoon groaned, watching your expression twist with pleasure as he filled you completely.
The moment he bottomed out, your muffled moan against Heeseung’s length sent a shiver down both their spines. Sunghoon began to thrust slowly, each movement causing you to arch into him, your body trembling under their control. “Look at you drooling all over, such a pretty little cockslut for us” Heeseung murmured, running his hand along your jaw before continuing to move in and out of your mouth, savoring every sound you made.
You could only hum in response, your body pliant as they took full control, drawing pleasure from every inch of you. It didn’t take long before the familiar knot began to tighten in your stomach, your body trembling as the overwhelming sensations pushed you closer to the edge.
“Oh? Are you close, pretty?” Sunghoon teased, his voice low and dripping with lust. His hand trailed down to toy with your sensitive clit while his hips snapped harder against yours, the sound of your wetness echoing through the room.
“Seems like it. She’s tensing all over,” Heeseung added, his hands roaming over your chest, pinching your hardened nipples as your muffled whines vibrated around him. “Cum for us, baby.”
With those words, the knot inside you snapped, your release gushing out in waves, soaking Sunghoon as he let out a deep groan. Your cries, muffled by Heeseung, only fueled them further. Moments later, both men followed, releasing warm spurts deep inside you, filling both ends with their heat.
But even as sensitivity rippled through your overstimulated body, Sunghoon didn’t let up, his hips continuing to pound into you relentlessly. A creamy ring formed around the base of his cock as he thrust into you, your body twitching with every movement.
Heeseung finally pulled out of your mouth, allowing your broken sobs and incoherent babbles to escape. “T-too much…! P-please, ngh… fuck!” you cried, tears streaming down your cheeks as you clutched at the sheets beneath you.
“You can take it, angel,” Sunghoon murmured, his voice dark yet soothing as he gripped your thighs tighter, driving himself impossibly deeper.
“Hmm, we know you want it anyway,” Heeseung teased, leaning down to kiss your lips softly, almost mockingly sweet, as though his gentle affection didn’t contrast the relentless way they were working your body to its limits.
And so, they continued, their movements unrelenting as they pushed you further and further, making your head spin and stars dance in your vision.
.
.
.
You had long lost track of how many times you came, your body trembling under their touch. They didn’t stop until you were completely spent, leaving you breathless and utterly satisfied.
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author’s note first fic for the event <3 i don’t know if i wrote the hee being mean well but i tried my best . . . also tried to keep it at 2K wc for my own sanity. but either way this is more or less what you guys will receive for when u send in a request for the event ! so far u can see the little sneakpeak of everything on the event archive—also to check the taken slots~ be sure to drop by >///<
taglist @kikidoul @rikiives @contyynishimura @ziiao @lilmarsh-t @bxcndd @laylasbunbunny @d-dilemma
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astrow1zar6 · 4 months ago
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Astrology observations-33
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I notice a lot of Taurus moon/mars people tend to hoard a lot. I’ve seen ppl with this placement go thru periods in their life where they lost a lot of valuable things whether it be because of money issues of moving away or they may have had a period in their lives where material possessions were very scarce.
Venus in retrograde people tend to come off very cold in social situations. I’ve only seen a handful of ppl with this placement bc it’s quiet rare to find but I notice they tend to lack social graces so people assume they are rude☹️ but deep down these ppl are so shy and sweet. I also notice this is lowkey a beauty aspect like ppl with this placement be sooo FINE but they never see it themselves (similar to Venus square Ascendant)
Saturn square Venus synastry is SOOOO annoying to have for both parties. You both wanna connect badly but everytime you interact there’s this overly formal way you guys about things especially on Saturns end. These people are so attracted to eachother too but there’s always something that keeps you from really getting to know this person whether it be distance, vulnerability problems, communication barriers ect. It usually takes these people a long ass time to connect but when they do it’s so long lasting just takes a lot of trust.
Aries sun/venus tend to try to over dominate their partners and friends a lot. I notice these people always try to compete with others to prove their superiority. This can cause them to have a bully reputation.
Mars in Taurus’s tend to work best when they are working with their hands ESPECIALLY in nature. They are usually amazing farmers/gardeners.
Mars in 3rd house people tend to have a very intense relationship with their siblings. They usually grew up arguing with them a lot or not getting along. Could also indicate having aggressive siblings. Could have a lot of resentment towards them.
Dating a Sag Venus & Aqua Venus just feels like you’re being friendzoned😭
Scorpio moons tend to get really embarrassed when they act out of emotion (Scorpio suns too but Scorpio moons definitely take the cake) they can lose control of their emotions for a second then start ghosting you for like a year lmao.
Aquarius risings are all soo hottt but when you get to know them deeper your just kinda like “????” Uk
Aquarius suns tend to be the least ambitious. They aren’t as attached to money like most I notice. (Unless they got a lot of Taurus and Capricorn)
Virgo moons are such clean girls 🧼
Venus in the 7th house people (especially with libra in the big three) usually can’t be alone for too long. Needs a lot of romantic attention to function. I notice if they don’t get that they tend to lowkey self destruct and go back to toxic exes.
Venus in the 2nd house people have the best self esteem. People usually only associate this placement with finances but people forget 2nd house also rules self worth. When positively aspected these people have such a deep love for themselves which turns them into a magnet. However If underdeveloped they can be very pessimistic & greedy & attract a lot of narcissists that use them for their $$.
Aries sun Cap moon people tend to be bullies.
Lilith in Pisces people tend to victimize themselves in every situation where they may be viewed negatively. They hate being held accountable for their faults.
Aries placements love provoking people and pushing their buttons. They find it stimulating.
Do not argue with someone with a Virgo moon and Scorpio Mars unless you’re ready to cry your eyes out for months
Taurus moons are usually very shy especially with a water/earth mercury it can be harder for these people to make friends due to their fear of getting out their comfort zone. You usually have to be very patient with these people they scope you out for awhile before they decide they want to be friends. Be lucky if they pick you too cuz they are PICKY.
When a Scorpio rising is attracted to you they will STAREEE INTO YOUR EYES. They are the masters at silent seduction. They won’t be overly flirtatious but the minutes they look at you it’s like they’re looking into your soul. And while it can make your heart stop it is very intimidating at times. You see so much obsession in their eyes when they like you. But when they hate you it’s like you’re invisible to them they won’t even acknowledge your presence most of the time.
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moonreader1010 · 20 days ago
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𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙚𝙘𝙝𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨?
𝓟𝓘𝓒𝓚 𝓐 𝓟𝓘𝓛𝓔 - ・❥・: ̗̀➛
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︵‿︵‿୨♡ Reading by - MAE ♡୧‿︵‿︵
(PLEASE DO CHECK OUT THE NOTE AT THE END OF THE READING)
PILE 1
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First of all, The High Priestess? You are a damn enigma. You carry an air of mystery that drives them crazy. You’re not the type to lay all your cards (pun intended) on the table at once—you keep them guessing. You know when to speak, when to stay silent, and when to let your eyes do all the talking. Your intuition is on point, and your lover can feel that you know things—things they haven’t even said out loud.
Now, here’s where things get spicy-spicy. The Five of Wands isn’t about peace and quiet—it’s about tension, competition, and passion. This card tells me that you don’t just leave them speechless with your mystery—you also challenge them, push their buttons, and keep things fun in a way that makes their heart race.
How do you leave them speechless?You keep them on their toes. You’re not afraid to tease, to play a little hard to get, to make them work for your attention. And let’s be real—they love the chase.You spark their fire. This isn’t just about soft, slow romance (though you can do that too). This is about passionate, competitive, can’t-keep-your-hands-off-each-other energy. Maybe it’s a battle of wits, playful teasing, or tension that builds up until it explodes.You make them crave more. They’re left speechless because they never know what’s coming next. One minute, you're pulling away with a sly smile, and the next, you’re completely stealing their breath away. Unpredictability is your secret weapon.
Ohhh, and just when they think they’ve figured you out? You completely flip the script. The Ace of Cups is about overflowing emotion, deep intimacy, and love that feels like drowning in pleasure. If The High Priestess keeps them intrigued and the Five of Wands keeps them chasing, the Ace of Cups? That’s where they fall—all the way in.
PILE 2
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First off, The Chariot is all about strength, confidence, and taking the wheel. You’re a force to be reckoned with, and that is immediately clear to anyone who crosses your path. You leave them speechless because you’re unapologetically in control of your life, your desires, and how you carry yourself. There’s a magnetic energy that pulls them in—there’s no guessing where you’re going or what you want because you radiate self-assuredness.
Okay, the Ten of Swords? This is about transformation through pain—but in a spicy way. You leave them speechless because you’ve been through your struggles and come out the other side stronger and hotter than ever. The Ten of Swords speaks to the end of a difficult cycle, the kind that often feels like being knocked down—but what happens next is what gets them every time. You rise from the ashes, a version of yourself that’s unstoppable.
How do you leave them speechless? You don’t let anything hold you back. You’ve been through the worst, and now you’re showing them a version of yourself that’s more confident, more powerful, and more ready to take what you want. You know how to break free and leave the past behind—which, let’s be real, is sexy. There’s something about someone who isn’t afraid to shed old skins, and you do it with such grace and power that they can’t help but be in awe. You turn pain into passion. That whole ‘rising from the ashes’ vibe? It’s not just emotional; it’s also physical. You channel that fire into your passion and energy, whether it’s in a seductive glance or a slow, powerful move that has them speechless in the best way.
And now, the Queen of Wands. Oh my God, this card is everything! The Queen of Wands is the embodiment of fiery, magnetic, unapologetic confidence. She is the woman who walks into a room and every head turns. She knows her worth, and she flames with passion, creativity, and irresistible allure. How do you leave them speechless? By being a goddess of charm, seduction, and strength—a true force that can't be ignored.
PILE 3
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The Fool? You are a total wild card. You leave them speechless because you’ve got that energy of someone who is not afraid to take risks, to go after what they want with absolutely zero hesitation. There’s something thrilling about the way you live your life like it’s an adventure, and you drag them along for the ride, whether they’re ready or not. They never know what to expect with you—and that’s hot.
Next, the Knight of Cups. Oh, baby, this is where we get into full-blown romantic and emotional seduction. You leave them speechless by showing up with that perfect balance of passion and emotion. The Knight of Cups is all about expressing love in the most dramatic, sweeping, captivating way. And when it comes to love, you’re like a knight on a white horse—ready to sweep them off their feet and make them feel adored, cherished, and completely special.
How do you leave them speechless? You woo them with words. You know exactly what to say to make them feel like they’re the only person in the world. Your emotional depth and sincerity are intoxicating—they can’t help but be swept up in your charm. You know how to make grand romantic gestures. Whether it’s an unexpected date, a slow dance under the stars, or even just an unexpected compliment that’s so heartfelt, they’re left speechless by how much you care. You open up emotionally. They may not be expecting this kind of deep emotional connection, but when you share your feelings, it’s with such sincerity and passion that it leaves them stunned by your vulnerability and affection. You’re not afraid to show them the real you, and that’s a level of intimacy that takes their breath away.
Alright, here’s where the magic happens: Three of Pentacles. You leave them speechless because you’re not just a lover, you’re a partner—and you know how to build something beautiful together. This isn’t just about physical attraction; this is about you both coming together to create something amazing. Whether it’s your creativity, your shared goals, or the way you work together in sync, the chemistry between you two goes beyond the surface.
Ⓝⓞⓣⓔⓢ
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This is a general reading take what resonates and leave the rest.
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Sending lots of love to whoever is reading this, take care.
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etherealrin · 12 days ago
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✧₊⁺ thinking about nerd!karasu...
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nerd!karasu who wears heavy rimmed glasses whenever he's in class or studying. though he wears contacts most of the time and whilst playing football, he houses a firm belief that wearing his glasses make him a better student.
nerd!karasu who accidentally becomes your academic rival after placing above you one too many times in the test rankings. it pisses you off how he's so good at analyzing your facials, knowing exactly how to press your buttons. and he wasn't even a psychology major!
nerd!karasu who's in love with anthropology and can occasionally be found on weekends sitting in random cafes near campus. according to him, he's "people watching."
nerd!karasu who needs a matcha latte every morning or else he cannot function at the 9 AM lectures he foolishly thought he could wake up for when he was doing course registration.
nerd!karasu who despite being known as "studious" somehow has time to be the star player of your university's football team, and a full time gym rat. does this man even sleep?
nerd!karasu who is often caught at the convenience store at stupidly late hours. one time you witnessed him microwaving a buldak carbonara inside of 7-11 at 3 am. why were you there? to get a red bull (so you could continue your all nighter.)
nerd!karasu who's keenly perceptive; he knows when you're feeling down. if he's feeling generous that day, he'll ask if you want to grab pastries together (when you're in a bad mood he almost always pays.)
nerd!karasu who during midterm and finals season is too tired and locked in to gel up his hair so you're blessed with the rare sighting of his raven colored locks falling naturally down his face. his bangs get into his eyes and he has to shake his head to clear them.
nerd!karasu who has this infuriating (hot) habit of lifting his shirt up to wipe his sweat in the too-warm lecture halls, giving everyone a glimpse of impeccable washboard abs. he winks when he catches girls staring.
nerd!karasu who's favorite subject is chemistry, which you happen to share with him. your professor had just assigned a month-long lab report that would total 20% of your semester grade, so you were really praying that your partner wouldn't be a complete bum. when karasu’s name and yours are called together, you're not sure whether to be relieved or distressed. on one hand, karasu was insanely smart. on the other, he was annoying, your number one competitor, and kind of beautiful. scratch that, he was majestic.
karasu wastes no time tracking you down after the professor is done, his smirk making you self-conscious.
"would ya look at that, sweetie. it's us two, again."
"yeah well, don't drag us down," you shoot back, rolling your eyes. you pretend he has no effect on you, that his deep eyes don't draw you in with a magnetic pull.
and maybe nerd!karasu had pure, academic intentions when he invited you to his room to work on the report. maybe he didn't mean to lean in too close, to flirtingly tease with you.
you're trying to type and he's making it impossible because he insists on "making sure you didn't mess up his pc settings." what that really entails is his hot breath on your neck as you attempt to finish up the document. karasu is staring shamelessly; you're trying not to think about any of it. you're in his room, sitting in his chair, with his things surrounding you—worst of all, he's way too close. every little spike of his purplish hair, you feel against your skin.
"you're turning red," he notes, peering at you through his black rimmed frames.
"maybe if you got off m- huh?"
karasu's pulling you in by the waist, expression unreadable and eyes shining with anything but the intent to do schoolwork.
"we're practically done now. i think that we should stop studying the reactivity of elements and start looking at attractivity instead."
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a/n: karasu and his cheesy chem pickup lines…we've seen nerd!gojo but wb karasu!! even better bc imo this is so canon.
masterlist!!
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nhlclover · 3 months ago
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HANDS TO MYSELF QUINN HUGHES
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pairing: fem!reader x quinn hughes
summary: after weeks of clashing schedules, yours and quinns calendars finally align for a much-desired date night.
warnings: veerrryyy sexually charged (but no smut), quinn and reader are very much in love, quinn being a lil bit horny, makeout
wc: 2.45k
notes: came so close to writing smut for this fic but i didn't think it would be good. also here is the dress i'm describing if you care!
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In a serendipitous alignment of your overfilled schedules, the night finally arrives. Weeks of clashing obligations, games, appointments, practices, and disappointments converge to clear a single slot in time, and Quinn, ever the romantic planner, had spent the entire day coordinating for it. He’d spun a few webs to secure a table at Riley’s, a restaurant that you knew had been booked solid for months. The restaurant itself was peak elegance, serving high-end food with the best of service.
You pulled the black, satin dress that hung in its garment bag out from the back of your closet. It was a dress that had been waiting, forgotten but pristine, for an evening like this. You stepped into the dress, pulling the zipper, but realizing that the button at the top would need the aid of Quinn. Your makeup was done, hair pulled up into a messy, but planned bun on the top of your head. You check your reflection, every detail scrutinized until it's perfect. In the low-lit glow of your vanity mirror, you look radiant, a piece of art made alive.
When you’re finally ready, you drift into the living room where Quinn is waiting. He rises at your entrance, and the room seems to shrink around you. His silence feels louder than any compliment. His eyes take you in, from the cut-outs at your waist to the way the fabric hugs and accentuates the curves of your body perfectly.
Then, as if he can no longer contain it, he utters, “You look… I can’t believe how stunning you are.” His voice is reverent as if you were something divine and beautiful he had stumbled upon.
“Thank you, baby,” you say softly. You take him in as well, the chocolate-colored suit tailored to fit him perfectly, the white dress shirt unbuttoned slightly to show off the curves of his chest. “Can you help me do up the button?”
You turn around, exposing the deep, plunging back to Quinn. When he catches sight of your exposed back, you swear you hear him let out a whimper. His calloused fingers brush against your back, attaching the button. The sensation of his lips pressing a light kiss to the back of your neck sends goosebumps all over.
“All done,” he says in a breathy voice.
As you turn to face him, your heart skips a beat, taking in the intensity in his eyes. There’s a simmering hunger in his gaze like he's seeing you in an entirely new light and savoring every inch of the view. For a moment, his fingertips linger on your bare shoulder, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your skin. He’s close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him, and the subtle scent of his cologne fills the air around you. The magnetism between you is undeniable, making it easy to get lost in the moment.
Quinn’s eyes drift from yours to your plump, gloss-covered lips, then back up to meet your gaze, smoldering and almost pleading. You feel the tension between you both rise, quiet electricity sparking in the space between your bodies, drawing you closer. He leans in, lips barely grazing your ear, his breath hot as he murmurs, “You sure we have to go to dinner?”
The way he says it makes your heart race, a low hum of excitement settling in your stomach. He’s looking at you as though dinner could wait, as though the evening he planned so meticulously is suddenly the furthest thing from his mind. You manage a playful smile, resting your hands on his chest and pressing back ever so slightly to keep a sliver of space between you.
“Quinn,” you whisper, forcing a bit of composure back into your voice. “I don’t even want to know what you had to do to get a reservation at Riley’s. And if we don’t leave now, we’re going to miss our reservation.”
He lets out a soft groan, but a smile tugs at his lips. “Fine, but only because I’ve waited long enough for this night.” His hands slowly fall from your shoulders, lingering a moment longer than they need to. He takes a step back, slipping one hand into yours, as if reluctant to let you out of his grasp even for a second.
Hand in hand, you head to the car, the cool evening air a gentle contrast to the warm intimacy that still lingers from Quinn’s touch. He opens the passenger door for you, his eyes never leaving you as you slide into the seat. He closes the door softly, circling around to the driver's side.
Once he’s settled in and starts the car, his hand immediately finds yours, fingers interlocking as he gives you a quick, admiring glance. You feel his eyes linger, that same look of reverence and wonder as he takes in the sight of you beside him.
“Eyes on the road, Mr. Romantic,” you tease gently, squeezing his hand.
He laughs, but there’s a slight flush on his cheeks. “It’s a little hard to focus when you look like that,” he admits. “That dress was practically designed to distract me.”
You shake your head, though you can’t deny how his words send a thrill through you. He’s still sneaking glances, unable to help himself, his fingers gently tracing circles on the back of your hand as he drives.
As you arrive at Riley’s, you’re greeted with the soft glow of candlelight spilling from the windows, the gentle hum of jazz drifting into the night air. The restaurant is elegant in a timeless way, with dim lighting and warm wooden accents that create an intimate, welcoming atmosphere. Quinn helps you out of the car, his hand finding the small of your back as he guides you through the grand entrance, where the maître d’ greets you with a polite nod.
“Right this way, Mr. Hughes,” she says with a warm smile, as though she too knows how special this night is. You’re led to a private corner booth tucked away from the rest of the tables. A single candle rests in the center, casting a warm glow across the table.
Quinn pulls your chair out for you, his hand grazing your shoulder as you sit. His gaze never leaves yours as he settles across from you, his expression one of barely contained awe. “I wasn’t exaggerating before,” he says softly, leaning in. “You look absolutely breathtaking.”
You feel your cheeks heat under his intense gaze, and you find yourself smiling, eyes twinkling as you return the compliment. “And you look incredible too, Quinn. That suit… I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so good.”
A waiter approaches, and Quinn orders a bottle of wine, one you remember J.T. Miller suggesting the two of you try if you’re willing to shell out a bit of money on a bottle. As the bottle arrives and the wine is poured, Quinn raises his glass to you, his eyes catching the candlelight.
“To you,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm.
“To us,” you correct. You clink glasses, each sip bringing a pleasant buzz that only heightens the already electrifying atmosphere.
For a while, your conversation is playful and light. You talk about little things — reminiscing over memories that make you laugh, filling in each other on anecdotes that got lost in your busy lives. Quinn leans in, his attention unwavering, absorbing every word with a soft, amused grin. Every facet of him is distracting to you - the way his fingers play with the stem of his wine glass, how he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth when he listens so intently to you telling a story, and the unmissable gleam in his eye when he looks at you.
You each glance half-heartedly at the menu, but quickly abandon it, unable to tear your focus away from each other. The conversation flows with a surprising ease, touching on topics deep and trivial. He confides how strange it felt to find the perfect suit, mentioning how he asked Jack if it was too much. You smile, knowing how important tonight must be for him to fuss over something like that.
“I can't tell you how good it feels to finally be here with you. It’s been a rough couple of weeks.” His expression shifts, his normally relaxed face showing traces of the stress that he’s been carrying.
“I know,” you say, reaching across the table to place your hand over his. “It feels like every time we tried to plan something, something would get in the way. Between your games, my projects…”
He lets out a long breath and gives a slight nod. “Yeah, it’s just been so much with the season, and all I’ve wanted is a night like this. Just you and me.” His eyes soften, and you feel his hand give yours a soft squeeze, grounding both of you at this moment. “Games have been intense lately. And I love it, but… I miss you,” he confesses, his voice almost whispering.
Your heart swells at his honesty. You can see the weariness in him, but there's also a kind of vulnerable tenderness in the way he’s looking at you now. “I miss you, too. But I’m really proud of you, Quinn. I see how much you put into it.”
He smiles, his gaze dropping to your lips for a moment before flicking back up to your eyes, his expression soft yet intent. “That means a lot to me, more than you know.” He leans in just slightly, a private, mischievous grin slipping onto his face. “But honestly, right now? All I want is to be with you. Just us.”
“Well,” you reply, leaning closer to Quinn. “Here we are. Just the two of us.”
His thumb traces slow, deliberate circles on your wrist, sending sparks up your arm. “Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice low and earnest. “Exactly where I want to be.” His eyes drop to the faint glow of the candlelight on your face, and he seems to lose himself in the view.
But the tender moment is interrupted as the waiter returns to take your orders. Reluctantly, Quinn tears his gaze from you, giving his order in a tone that is a bit rushed. You can’t help but smile at his eagerness as you place your own order, stealing glances at him. The waiter leaves, and a comfortable silence settles over you both, the soft jazz music a fitting backdrop to the intimacy between you.
Quinn leans forward, elbows on the table, his fingers interlaced as he studies you again. “I know we’ve been waiting for a night out for forever but…” His voice dips into a quiet murmur, like he’s sharing a secret, “If you told me we could just go home right now, I wouldn’t even blink.”
You laugh, shaking your head slightly, but there’s a warm blush in your cheeks at his words. “Quinn Hughes, you’re telling me you’re willing to give up the table that you pulled some serious strings to get, all because you don’t know if you can keep it in your pants?”
“Yes, exactly that,” he says without missing a beat, his expression growing serious. “Do you know how hard it is to just sit here with you in that dress and keep my hands to myself?”
The boldness in his voice takes you by surprise, and it sends a thrill through you. His words are a reminder of the magnetic pull between you, one that hasn’t faded since the beginning of your relationship. A playful smirk tugs at the corner of your lips. “You know,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, “I’d almost believe you didn’t want this night as much as I did.”
Quinn reaches across the table, capturing your hand in his as his thumb glides over your skin, the touch featherlight yet stirring. “Trust me,” he murmurs, voice thick with sincerity, “I want tonight. Every part of it. But right now, it’s taking everything I have not to pull you out of here and make you mine before our food gets here.”
Your breath catches at the intensity in his voice, the raw honesty in his words unraveling you. The ambiance of the restaurant fades into the background; it’s as if the two of you are in a world of your own, insulated by shared desire and the gravity of this long-awaited moment.
You lean forward, your eyes locked onto his with equal fervor. “I guess we could always… take the food to go,” you whisper, testing the waters.
A glimmer of excitement flashes in his gaze. “Are you serious?” he asks, barely able to keep his voice steady, as though the thought alone is almost too good to believe.
Your fingers trace slow patterns over the top of his hand. “Quinn, this night is already perfect… you went above and beyond to make it perfect. But, truth be told, we could’ve just ordered Chinese food and I would have been just as happy. I just want to be with you”
Quinn signals for the waitress, quickly requesting the check and your ordered meals in boxes with a smoothness that belies the fire simmering beneath his calm exterior. He leans over and gives her a charming but hurried excuse about needing to leave for a family matter, handing over his card before she can even respond. The minutes it takes to process feel like an eternity, but Quinn’s hand rests over yours, grounding you in the electric silence shared between you.
Finally, the waitress returns, and he leaves a generous tip before helping you to your feet. You weave through the restaurant together, stealing glances and half-hidden smiles, every step charged with anticipation.
Outside, the city air hits cool and refreshing, but the chill is quickly forgotten as Quinn’s hand finds its familiar place on your thigh once you’re seated in the car. His fingers trail subtle, teasing patterns that have your pulse racing, yet he maintains a sense of composure, his gaze focused forward as he drives the short distance back to your place. You both sense the unspoken thrill of getting back as quickly as possible, yet his hand remains on you, tethering you to the rising tension.
When he finally pulls into the driveway, neither of you wastes a moment. The world outside becomes a blur as you make your way up the steps to the front door, his lips already brushing against your neck as you struggle with the key. By the time you stumble through the door, his mouth finds yours, and the soft click of the door closing behind you is drowned out by the rush of your heartbeat.
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hoshifighting · 9 months ago
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New in the Suburbs – New Neighboor! Joshua
— WARNINGS: Smut, fingering, pussy eating, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, lots of flirting and dirty talk, hair pulling, clit stimulation, g'spot stimulation, overstimulation, oversensitivity, good first impression (both). — WC: 4.5k
On a bright and sunny day, you found yourself outside your house, taking advantage of the weather to give your car a well-deserved wash. The gentle breeze carried the scent of soap and water as you stood there, hose in hand, working diligently to make your car shine. The vehicle was parked just outside the garage, basking in the warmth of the sun.
The water gushed from the hose, soaking both you and the car. You leaned casually on the hood, propping your feet up on the tall tire to ensure you reached every nook and cranny with the rinse. Your skin glistened under the sun, creating a glow that seemed to catch the attention of anyone passing by. 
As you immerse yourself in the task, a voice interrupted your thoughts. Glancing over your shoulder, you spotted Dokyeom, Jihoon, and a new face you had never seen before. The unfamiliar guy wore khaki shorts and a crisp white buttoned shirt, adorned with the subtle elegance of the ARMANI logo. He radiated a captivating charm that caught you off guard.
To his eyes, you likely appeared enchanting—looking like the movie cover of a hot summer full of tanned, toned people. Your white tank top clung to your form, its transparency accentuated by the water, and your shorts molded against your body, creating a silhouette that seemed straight out of a summer fantasy. With your wet hair tousled from the refreshing shower you gave yourself, the trio approached, curious and captivated.
Dokyeom, noticing the enchantment in Joshua's gaze, decided to take the initiative and introduce his friend to you. With a playful smile, he nudged Joshua and gestured towards you.
"Y/N, meet Joshua," Dokyeom announced, his tone carrying a hint of mischief. "He just moved into the neighborhood."
You turned your attention to Joshua, and your eyes met his. There was a warmth in his gaze, and you couldn't help but return his friendly smile. "Nice to meet you, Joshua," 
He extended his hand, shaking yours with a firm grip that lingered longer than the usual greeting. A subtle connection sparked in that moment as you exchanged smiles.
 "The pleasure is all mine, Y/N. I must say, Dokyeom has been singing the praises of this neighborhood, but meeting you adds a whole new level of charm."
Dokyeom chuckled, nudging Joshua playfully. "Told you it's a great place. And Y/N here is one of the reasons why."
Feeling a playful embarrassment, you couldn't help but blush as you lightly hit Dokyeom's chest in response to his teasing. He laughed, clearly enjoying the lighthearted moment.
"Alright, alright, I see what's going on here," Dokyeom teased, exchanging knowing glances with Joshua. "We'll leave you to do your car wash duties. But Joshua, make sure you get settled in properly, alright?"
Joshua nodded with a smile, still holding a lingering gaze that didn't go unnoticed. "Absolutely. Thanks for the warm welcome, Y/N. I'll catch you around."
As they turned to leave, you bid them farewell with a wave. "Sure thing! Nice meeting you, Joshua. And Dokyeom, don't you dare make this a neighborhood gossip!"
Dokyeom laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I won't say a word! Have fun, Y/N."
As you resumed attending to the car, thoughts swirled in your mind. You wondered what it was about Joshua that made him so captivating. While you couldn't quite put a finger on it, there was a magnetic draw to his presence.
As the day went by, you continued your routine, occasionally stealing glances toward the house where Joshua had moved in. The encounter replayed in your memory, leaving you curious to see him again.
The next day, as you lounged in your backyard, basking in the sunshine while you wore your bikinis, a familiar figure caught your eye. Joshua, his athletic frame glistening with a touch of sweat, ran past your house.
Just as he passed by, he suddenly stopped and turned towards you, leaning against the fence that separated your yards. His eyes widened slightly, as if he hadn't expected to find you there in such a relaxed state. A warm smile spread across his face as he gave you a friendly wave.
Joshua leaned against the fence, his breath slightly labored from the run. He looked at you and grinned. "Well, this is a pleasant surprise. You look absolutely glowing in the sun."
You chuckled softly, a slight blush creeping up your cheeks. "Thanks, I suppose the sun has a way of bringing out the best in everyone, including you. Running, I see. You always this energetic in the mornings?"
Joshua shrugged playfully, raking a hand through his sweat-soaked hair.
 "Ah, you know it's part of my morning routine. Gotta get the blood pumping before the day begins. But I must say, the sight of you basking in the sun has added a few extra beats to my heart."
You grinned, a mix of surprise and amusement dancing in your eyes. "Is this your way of flirting with me, Mr. Energetic? Or are those "extra beats" just from your run?"
Joshua chuckled, a playful glint in his gaze. "Ah, you caught me. It's a bit of both, I suppose. Can you blame me for being flirty when faced with such a captivating view?"
As you walked toward him swaying your hips, Joshua's eyes tracked you as you approached, his smile widening in response. Once you reached the fence and leaned against it, Joshua's eyes flicked up to meet yours.
"You know, it's the second day and you're already flirting with me? My friends will surely enjoy hearing about this!" you taunted, your voice laced with a hint of teasing challenge.
Joshua's eyes tracked you as you approached, his smile widening in response. Once you reached the fence and leaned against it, he responded with a teasing tone.
"Oh, am I making such a strong impression already?" He teased, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "If my flirting is that obvious, I guess I can't keep it a secret from your friends for long. They'll find out real quick that I can't help but flirt with the beautiful girl next door."
A soft laugh escaped your lips, enjoying the light-hearted banter between you. You leaned in a little closer, keeping your gaze locked with his. "Well, I'll make sure to let them know. But don't worry, I won't tell them how eagerly you've been eyeing me in my bikinis."
Joshua's cheeks flushed slightly, a hint of embarrassment creeping onto his face. He quickly regained his composure and grinned. "Fair enough. I'll keep it subtle, or at least I'll try to. No promises, though."
You couldn't help but smile at his response. The chemistry between you was palpable, leaving a flutter in your chest. Leaning back a bit, you teased, "Well, if you can't resist your eyes wandering, I might have to start wearing something more... revealing. I'm sure you wouldn't mind that, right?"
Joshua's eyes widened, a blush deepening on his cheeks. He stuttered slightly before mustering a playful reply. "Ah, now you're just doing it to torment me, aren't you? But you won't hear any complaints from me."
Your smirk widened, enjoying his flustered reaction. "Oh, not tormenting, just giving you a little taste."
Joshua's eyes glimmered with anticipation as he played along. "Just a taste? I'm starting to think you're a master of teasing." He paused for a moment, his gaze shifting to your lips before meeting your eyes again. "But I can play that game too."
Joshua took a step closer, his body nearly against yours. His eyes held a mixture of playfulness and desire. You looked back at him, a hint of a smile on your face. "Can you?"
He nods, his voice low and husky. "Oh, I definitely can."
You stepped back, creating a small gap between you, and glanced back at him with a sultry gaze. You turned back around and laid back on the lounger, giving him a teasing look over your shoulder.
Joshua paused for a moment, his gaze roving over you before leaving a casual comment. "You know, I might have to run near your house more often if this is the view I get." He chuckled softly, his eyes meeting yours one more time before he started to walk back towards his house.
You watched him leave, the events of the conversation replaying in your mind. The chemistry between you was undeniable, leaving you curious about what the future might hold.
As the week progressed, you observed the hustle and bustle next door, catching glimpses of Joshua moving into his new home. From time to time, you would spot him jogging past your house during his morning runs. The sight of him sent a flutter in your chest, and you couldn't help but wonder if he was intentionally passing by your place on his runs.
[...]
Today was Friday, and after a long day at work, you stepped out of the shower and wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel. As you padded into the kitchen, there was a sudden knock on the door. Surprised, you hesitated for a moment, wondering who could be visiting at this hour.
You approached the door and peered through the peephole, curiosity piqued. To your surprise, you saw Joshua standing there, wearing a casual outfit and a friendly smile.
You widened your eyes slightly, a mix of surprise and excitement flooding your senses. Quickly, you adjusted your towel and took a breath to compose yourself. Opening the door, you greeted Joshua with a warm smile, quickly running a hand through your damp hair
"Hey there, Joshua. What brings you there?" You asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Joshua's smile widened as he saw you, taking in the sight of you in your towel. his eyes momentarily flickering down before returning to meet yours. He ran a hand through his hair in a casual gesture.
"Ah, I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time," he stuttered slightly, clearly trying to keep his mind from wandering to the sight of you in a towel.
You chuckled softly, not missing the momentary distraction in his eyes.
"Not at all. You just caught me right after a shower."
"I noticed you just got home a while ago, so I thought I'd drop by to see how your day was and maybe..." he hesitated for a moment, a playful glint in his gaze. "Maybe invite you to hang out tonight. If you're not too tired, that is."
"I just wanted to invite you to my housewarming party tonight. It's nothing grand, just some friends chilling and having a good time."
You nodded with a small smile, appreciative of the invite, but feeling slightly embarrassed in your impromptu outfit.
"Sure, that sounds great! Let me just change real quick and I’ll be right over."
Joshua’s expression turned playfully sulky as he responded with a touch of disappointment. “Ah, do you really have to change? I quite liked the sight of you in that towel.”
As his sulky expression intensified, you couldn't help but tease him a bit. You laughed playfully, a mischievous glint in your eyes.
"Ah, now you really want me to wear just a towel?” You teased, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Well, I suppose I could give everyone a treat, but then again, where's the fun in having me all to yourself if there's a crowd?"
Joshua's disappointment melted away, replaced by a sly smile that matched your own. He took a step closer, the distance between you growing increasingly intimate.
"You're right," he mused, his voice low and suggestive. "Crowds are overrated, especially when there's a chance to have you all to myself." His gaze fixated on your lips, a hint of desire in his eyes.
As he stepped inside, the air thick with tension and desire, you found yourself leaning against the wall for support. His closeness sent a shiver down your spine, and as he closed the door, the moment grew even more intimate.
Your breath hitched slightly, and your eyes widened, meeting his intense gaze. You could feel the wetness between your legs growing, and the desire within you intensifying, despite your best attempts to hide it.
"You sure' you want to change?" 
Your breath hitched as his mouth hovered near your lips, anticipating a kiss. But instead, Joshua planted a kiss on your neck, gently nibbling and sending a bolt of electricity through you. A moan escaped your lips, the sensation causing your chest to heave.
His body pressed against yours, and he pressed his lips into your skin, trailing a path of kisses down your neck and collarbone.
"You've been on my mind all week, you know that? Every time I ran past your house, it took every ounce of restraint not to come knock on your door and finish what I started that first day." His mouth then traveled up to your earlobe, nibbling it gently.
As his hands gripped your waist, you were flush against the wall and his body, the towel doing little to shield you from the heat of his touch. His breath mingled with yours, warm and tantalizing. You parted your lips just as his caressed yours in a soft tease.
Joshua took advantage of your parted lips, gently coaxing his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. His other hand found its way under the towel, tracing the curve of your ass possessively. You gasped softly, the pleasure intensifying.
His hand caressing your breast was both gentle and masterful, with a slight shift in movement, the knot of the towel gave way, and you gasped against his mouth. He took the opportunity to pull you closer and explore further.
With you even more exposed, the feel of your bodies pressed together without barriers intensified the sensations. Joshua kissed his way down your jaw and neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses in their wake. You could feel his arousal pressing into you, a delicious friction that made you ache for more. The sound of your moans and heavy breathing filled the air, adding to the wanton atmosphere.
He guided you to the dining table, the surface cool against your heated skin. You sat on its edge, the cool sensation only adding to the contrast of sensations. As he pushed your legs apart, exposing your wet dripping pussy to him.
His attention and touch on your thighs were both possessive and admiring, leaving behind a trail of shivers with every caress. He whispered words of praise, telling you how much enjoyed the sight of you like this, vulnerable and naked before him.
His thumb brushed against your sensitive bundle of nerves, and your back arched in response. You gasped as jolts of pleasure shot through you, leaving you breathless. 
''Joshua! Hmm…"
"Oh, that's right. Say my name, sweetheart. Let me hear how much you want me," he whispered against your skin, his voice low and seductive. You gasped, arching further under the ministrations of his touch.
"Joshua..." You moaned softly, your body shivering with pleasure. "Yes..." he murmured, his thumb circling your sensitive clit.
Joshua continued with his thumb moving in slow circles, driving you closer to the edge. "You sound so lovely when you’re all needy." 
You let him do with you what he pleased, lying back on the table, with chest rising and falling fast, you arch your back as he continued to tease you. His touch grew more insistent, determined to bring you to the brink. 
Joshua penetrates two of his fingers inside your pussy, your cunt swallowing his fingers eagerly continued their work, stroking and gently rubbing, while his other hand moved up to caress your belly and chest.
You moaned softly, a desperate edge to your voice. "I’m close," you murmur, every syllable quivering with pleasure. He picked up on your need, his breath warm against your ear. "I know," he whispered, a teasing lilt in his tone. "I can feel how close you are." His touch against you intensified, determined to take you over the edge.
He worked you to the brink of ecstasy, his touch and whispers driving you wild. Your body arched and trembled under his ministrations. "Let go," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "Cum for me."
You grabbed onto his forearm, holding on tight as you came undone. Your body tensed and arched, a strangled scream escaping your lips as waves of pleasure washed over you. His hand continued to move gently as you rode it out, coaxing every last spasm from your trembling body.
Even as you began to come down from the high, Joshua continued his ministrations, not giving you a moment reprieve. You writhed and squirmed on the table, oversensitive and breathless. "Wait," you stuttered, your voice strained. "I can't take it anymore."
"Shh," he whispered, his hand cupping your cheek. "Just let me take care of you." His touch gently persisted, pushing you to another edge.
Your gasp was followed by a plea, his name falling from your lips like a desperate refrain. The pleasure was overwhelming, verging on the edge of pain, and the knot tightened in your belly, the sensations building again. "Joshua," you gasped again, tears welling in your eyes as he continued to coax you towards your second climax.
Joshua kneeled down between your thighs, his gaze darkened with desire. The proximity of his mouth to your sensitive clit was enough to drive you wild, even before he touched you. And when he did, you let out a sharp cry, the heat of his tongue adding to the intense sensations.
You grasped onto his hair, needing something to anchor you, as the pleasure built with each movement of his tongue. Your vision blurred at the edges, the world starting to lose focus as the climax approached again. Joshua's groaned against you, the sound reverberating through your body and sending more waves of pleasure through you.
In the aftermath of your climax, you lay on the table, your body boneless and breathless. Joshua ran his hands gently over your trembling form, coaxing you back from the heights of pleasure.
"You okay, sweetheart?" He murmured, his voice soft and tender.
You nodded, your gaze hazy and satisfied. Joshua continued to caress your skin, his touch light and soothing.
As he tended to you, Joshua's kisses and caresses became increasingly needy. His mouth on your neck, biting and nibbling, while his hands roamed your body possessively. 
You could feel the hardness of his cock pressing against you, the contact sending a wave of heat through you. Despite your recent climax, his touch reignited your desire and set your nerves aflame.
His mouth moved lower, trailing down your chest to reach your sensitive nipples. He teased, his tongue swirling around each hard bud. You gasped at the sensitivity of it, your hand grasping at his hair.
His tongue flicking against them teasingly, as he looks at you.
As Joshua's lips continued to explore your body and his actions grew more intense, you couldn't help but notice the evident bulge in his pants. His control, usually so steadfast, seemed to falter slightly, the desire between you overwhelming his restraint.
"J-Joshua," you managed to gasp out, your voice thick with desire. "You're... so hard." 
He lifted his head, meeting your gaze, his eyes darkened with need.
Joshua's gaze darkened further as you mentioned his arousal, the words only serving to heighten his desire. "Can you feel what you did to me?" he managed to say, his voice strained with restraint. 
He shifted slightly, his body pressing more firmly against yours, letting you feel the full extent of his need. Heat pulsed between you, leaving no room for doubt about how much he wanted you.
You responded to his words with an ardent sigh, the sound dripping with need. "I want– " you gasped as his mouth found your neck again, planting a hot kiss. "I want to feel you. All of you." Your words were barely above a whisper, but their meaning, clear.
His control slipped further, the hunger in his gaze deepening as he looked up at you. "You'll have me," he promised, his voice filled with desire. "Every inch."
As your hand strayed down your belly, your fingers teasing your throbbing clit, Joshua watched in awe and desire. The sight was almost too much, his breath catching in his throat as he tried to resist the urge to take control.
He tried to focus on breathing as he watched your actions, his own desire straining against the confines of his pants. Your eyes met his, and he could do nothing to resist his lust. He quickly unstrapped his belt, tossing it on the ground.
As you caressed yourself, Joshua's control shattered. His pants hit the floor moments before he closed the distance between you, his hands finding your wrists, gently drawing them away from your body.
"No," he said breathlessly. "Let me."
In that moment, all rational thought faded away, replaced only by sensation and heat. The feeling of him pressing his cock against your slit, sent shivers through your body, your breath catching in your throat as you waited for him to fully enter you.
"Eyes on me, sweetheart." Joshua commands.
You tried to focus on his gaze as he entered you, but the sensation of his size stretching you was overwhelming. Your eyes rolled back slightly, the pleasure and slight twinge of pain sending your mind to another multiverse.
With every slow and sharp rock of his hips, your whole body trembled, the sensations overwhelming. Joshua's moans echoed through the room as he held your gaze, the heat between you intensifying with each moment. Feeling him fight to hold back, to prolong the moment, ignited a fire within you.
As you clenched and unclenched around him, his expression grew more and more strained, the struggle to hold back evident in his gritted teeth and sweaty face.
"Is it good Joshua?" You ask between gasps and thrusts.
You watched as his eyes closed, his expression contorting with the effort to hold on for you, a tortured groan escaping his throat.
"Yes–," he managed to gasp out, the word leaving his lips in a rush of breath. "It's so good, so good. I can't–"
You knew the pleasure he was experiencing was immense, his body trembling as he fought to maintain control for your sake.
Each time you clenched around him, his body tensed in response, the feeling of him inside you driving him closer and closer to the edge.
Joshua's eyes met yours as you felt a sudden surge of moisture between your folds, his expression shifting from a mixture of ecstasy to amazement. "You're so wet," he gasped, his voice dripping with desire. 
He increased his pace, his gaze never leaving yours, his hands finding purchase on your hips. His grip was firm, as if pulling you closer only deepened the pleasure. 
The sounds of flesh against flesh echoing in the room, as your hands roamed over his chest, needing something to anchor you in the waves of sensation. 
His thumb finds your sensitive bud again, a wave of pleasure washes over you, making your entire body convulse beneath him. You curse, writhing helplessly as he continues to tease and caress you, pushing you closer to the edge. Your voice is a breathy mix of pleasure and desire, the only words leaving your lips a pleading, "Don't stop."
With a swift move, he turns you, your body now braced against the table, and then, he thrust into you again, the table scraping against the floor as he pulls your hair roughly. 
Joshua's grip on your hair tightened as he pulled your head back, exposing your neck to his kisses. 
A strangled moan escaped your lips as your breath came in pants, the intensity building with each passing moment, as if you could feel him deeper from this angle.
His cock finds the spot, and you sobbed, the sensation almost overwhelming, and he chuckled softly against your skin, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Is this it?" he whispered, his words husky and seductive. "I think I found it." 
Each time he repeated the motion, you could only gasp out a choked, "Yes!"
You felt him hit against that sensitive spot again and again, each time eliciting a sharp gasp or moan from your parted lips. He knew exactly where to touch you, his touch teasing and expert.
With each hit of that spot, your legs trembled, threatening to give out completely and your body went limp. A mixture of pleasure and pain surged through you, your tears mixing with the sensations as he roughly grasped your hair. "Don't hold back," he muttered, his voice low and full of need. "Let me hear you."
"Joshua," you gasped between sobs and moans, his name a broken plea on your lips. your body had lost all control, helpless against the torrent of sensations and his masterful touch. "J-Joshua," you gasped, your voice breaking. "Please... I can't... I'm going to..."
Your words ended in a strangled groan, the intensity of the pleasure too much. You felt yourself clench around him, your body beginning to unravel, pushed over the edge by his relentless pace. "Oh god–" you managed to gasp out, your nails digging into the table.
And then it hits you, waves of ecstasy crashing over you like a tidal wave, drowning out all coherent thought. You arched your back, head thrown back as you cried out, the intensity overwhelming. 
Your pussy tightened around him, drawing him closer to cum as well.
Through it all, Joshua held you, one hand steadying your hips while the other still gripped your hair, grounding you through the storm of pleasure. He rode out the waves with you, his own breath growing ragged as he fought to hold back his own release.
The tears fell faster now, blurring your vision as you lost yourself to the raw lust and desire. Your body convulsed and trembled as you whispered, "Fuck, fuck, fuck..."
He loosened his grip on your hair as you sagged against the table, and you nearly fell forward onto the table face-first. Joshua steadied you quickly, supporting you with one strong arm while he turned you to sit on the table. He gathered you, holding you close in a soothing embrace, allowing you to catch your breath.
''Take your time. I've got you." he murmured softly as he caressed your scalp.
You finally managed to find your voice, albeit somewhat raspy and breathless. "Joshua," you whispered, lifting your head from his shoulder to meet his gaze. "You know your friends will be wondering what's taking so long."
"Let them wonder," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of humor. He brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead, his touch gentle. "I'm in no rush to leave. Besides, I'm far more interested in tending to your needs than worrying about them."
You chuckle.
Joshua chuckled softly, still holding you close. "They'll be fine," he said, "What's a few more minutes?" 
As if on cue, a sudden knock sounded on your door, followed by the sound of a familiar voice. "Joshua? You in there, man?"
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queensunshinee · 3 months ago
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Wreck my plans || Art Donaldson x reader
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Rating: Explicit (18+) Warnings: SMUT (p in v sex, fingering), drinking, family drama, very slow burn, maybe too slow, I really don't know what's going on here
Word Count: 8.5k
Wreck my plans
Parties were never your thing. Parties are Jenny's thing. But she went away for the weekend with two friends from Harvard and didn’t even think to invite you. So Jenny can go to hell. And you can go to the party.
Luke Thompson's house is huge, and it doesn’t surprise you since you've spent two evenings a week here over the past few months trying to teach him algebra and literature. He had to repeat senior year after his complete failure last year. The party was in celebration of him finally getting his diploma and being accepted to a local college nearby.
"Little (Y/L/N)!" he shouted, spreading his arms wide, inviting you for a hug. "The only reason I managed to finish school," he added, yelling, making you roll your eyes. "You’re the only reason you managed to finish school, Luke," you said, taking a step back. "To be honest, I didn’t think you’d come," he looked around, causing you to do the same and start recognizing familiar faces from your grade and the one above you (Jenny’s). "I've never seen you at a party before." "I've been to parties. we just don’t hang out with the same people," you said as the two of you moved towards the kitchen so you could grab a drink.
The conversation continued for a few more minutes, but your attention drifted to the blond guy in the kitchen- Art Donaldson. Dressed in a pink button-down shirt and jeans, holding a red cup just like the one Luke put in your hand, drinking the same warm beer you're drinking. You hadn’t thought about him for almost a year. Your gaze wandered from him to the living room, where you saw Dave flirting with someone you couldn’t identify, and you found yourself rolling your eyes at the scene. You tried to listen to Luke for a few more moments because it felt like the polite thing to do, but you lost interest, and, like a magnet, your eyes were drawn back to Art Donaldson, who was busy looking you over from head to toe. You wonder if it made you blush or if it's just the cheap alcohol. You left the kitchen with a certain sense of saturation, looking for people you actually enjoyed being around more than Luke, who, as nice as he was, was too sociable for your taste. Tried too hard. You also try hard, mostly to stay out of everyone’s way.
You ended the evening with Chloe and Ron- ironically, friends of Jenny's, since Lia refused to come. They asked about Jenny and told you about their college experiences. Ron finished his first year at Yale, and Chloe went to a local college not far from here. Maybe it’s time to go home, as you feel like you’re suffocating and the place is closing in on you. The thought of staying close, like Chloe, to this suburb made your stomach turn. Chloe loved it, though. She didn’t see anything wrong with it. She planned her life right here. Just like this.
"Can I sit?" A familiar voice stood above you as you stared at Luke’s pool. A few people were in the far corner of it, but otherwise, the yard was empty. You shrugged without saying anything as Art sat down. He took off his shoes and folded up his jeans a bit, dipping his feet into the pool- something you hadn’t even thought to do. You looked at him for a moment as he took another sip from the drink in his hand. He’s probably the most handsome guy you know- a childish thought that’s crossed your mind since you were young, since you remember him. Blond with eyes that could make stars feel embarrassed with how they shine. There’s nothing ordinary about him. He’s exceptional. You don’t think there’s any girl your age who’s known him and hasn’t had a crush on him, at least for a moment.
"Congratulations on finishing school. I heard you’re the reason Luke can celebrate," he said casually, looking at you and causing you to turn your gaze back to the pool in a split second. "He really needs to stop telling people that," you replied, hearing him chuckle. "How was your first year in college? Stanford, right?" you asked, trying to shift the focus from yourself to him. "Yeah, tennis, you know. It’s nice. I’m supposed to choose a major next semester. My mom wants me to pick business management. I’m considering sports management," he said offhandedly, as if it weren’t too personal. As if this wasn’t the longest conversation you’d had since kindergarten. "Then you have to choose sports, of course," you said quickly. "Sorry, it’s none of my business," you added just as fast, realizing you’d stepped into his complicated relationship with his mom. "If only it were that easy, huh?" he chuckled. "To choose what I want," he added.
At that moment, Art Donaldson had no idea that what he was saying touched the deepest parts of your heart, nearly crushing it. Stroking an open wound without knowing the area was sensitive. Jenny decided at the last moment that she didn’t want to study at Yale and preferred Harvard, which meant financially you couldn’t study out of state. It would just be too much. And it surprised no one that you were the one who had to give up your dream. It surprised no one, because Jenny was the first to decide, and you received the scraps of something that might have been hers. Like wearing an old shirt, she no longer wanted. It’s never the other way around.
"Aren’t you planning to go pro?" you asked after a few seconds, trying to shake off the emotions flooding you. "I’m not sure yet, my mom really wants me to finish my degree," he explained, taking another sip. "Patrick’s really suffering on his tour. don’t tell him I told you that." He added information you hadn’t asked for. As if you were in daily contact with Patrick Zweig. As if you’d ever exchanged a word with him. You only know Jenny slept with him a few times, but it’s not something you two talk about, so whatever. "I’m going to Wesleyan," you said suddenly and looked at him; his gaze was already on you. "Damn," he smiled a half-smile, and maybe it was the first time you’d felt a certain pride since you applied there. "Jenny went to Harvard, so it’s complicated for both of us to study out of state, you know how it is," you felt the need to explain the situation, even though he hadn’t asked, and he certainly didn’t know how it is. "It’s a good school tho, I’m glad I got in," you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince, but he furrowed his brows as if he didn’t believe it, as if he had something to say about it. But he kept it to himself, and you appreciated that.
"I have to say, distancing myself from Jenny (Y/L/N) was one of the best things that’s happened to me since I left," everyone knew about Art and Jenny's relationship. They couldn’t stand each other. They competed in every possible subject. From student council to tennis. You don’t think Jenny even likes tennis. She just likes the first place. And without realizing it, you laughed, which a good sister shouldn’t do, but you felt it too. Distancing yourself from Jenny was a relief. The difference is that you’re not allowed to say that out loud, and Art Donaldson doesn’t really care. He doesn’t need to be at family dinners during holidays.
You looked at him for another second and thought this could be a good moment to kiss him. It was as if he hadn’t taken his eyes off you for a second since he sat down. You could lean in a little and press your lips to his. It’s not like you’d see him much again. You wouldn’t see him at all and in six weeks, you will move into the dorms in college. and in few years, maybe after school, he’d probably be a professional tennis player or a lawyer or the president. You think you can picture him as the president. You'd vote for him. "Well, it was nice seeing you, (Y/N)," he smiled another one of his captivating smiles. "Talk to me if you ever find yourself in California," he gave a small nod, grabbed his shoes, and walked away. Maybe one day you’ll manage to actually do something you really want to do. . . . You regretted what you did about three minutes after you politely turned down the full scholarship to Wesleyan. and accepted what they offered you at Stanford. But in your defense, it was late at night, you’d just come back from Luke’s party very tipsy, and you had no real intention of talking to Art when you got to California. You’d never seen your parents so angry. Your mom cried. Your dad said you were inconsiderate. Jenny sat on the couch, watching you with a raised eyebrow. They said they wouldn’t pay for anything, that if you made this decision, you’d have to deal with the consequences. The scholarship covered your tuition, but for housing and books, you’d have to use your savings. Two jobs you picked up over the summer and a part-time job you’d had for three years of babysitting. They didn’t speak to you for weeks. From the moment you told them, all communication between you went through Jenny.
"Tell her dinner’s ready," "Tell her to go down and buy eggs," "Tell her Uncle Barry’s coming over tonight, to act like she still cares about this family."
"They'll come around," Jenny mumbled when she climbed into your bed one of those warm August nights. "I don’t know," you answered with your eyes closed, exhausted from the day at work and the hostility you returned to at home. "I know," she concluded. In the morning, you woke up alone.
You think they’ll never forgive you. Maybe you’ll never forgive them. But you don’t know. . . . The empty bed in your dorm was beneath the window. You didn’t complain for a moment because everything could have been much worse. Jenny bought you the flight ticket to California for your birthday. You cried. You remembered that small moment when Art said he was glad to be away from her and you giggled, not defending your sister. She’s not to blame for being born first. She’s not to blame for needing more attention. Her intentions are good. That should be the only thing that matters.
You only met Billie in the evening when she came back from what she described as a date. She spoke about 50 words a minute, so it was hard to follow. She asked why you came a week late, you wanted to say that you were on time and she came early, but all you managed to get out was "work." It wasn’t a lie. You worked at a camp and an ice cream parlor all summer, trying to save as much as you could because you didn’t know how long it would take to find a job near the university. Turns out, very quickly. The diner across from the university was looking for waiters, and you showed up without experience but with a convincing smile and some recommendations from previous employers, as if anyone cared that you were great with kids. Three shifts a week, and the savings would help you keep your head above water. That’s all you need.
A week after you arrived at the dorms, Billie and Summer, your roommates, forced you to go with them to a party. And it wasn’t too hard to convince you because you weren’t at home. And sometimes, you need to remind yourself that you at home isn’t the same you who’s at Stanford. Here, no one knows you or Jenny. No one expects anything from you, no one will call you "Little (Y/L/N)." Here, you are whoever you choose to be. And that’s enough. Enough to wear almost burgundy lipstick and a tight dress, but still sneakers. After all, something of you stays the same.
Someone named Dean hit on you most of the night, and Billie told him you had a boyfriend. "Babe, anyone but Dean. I’ve been here two weeks, and he’s slept with the entire building already," she whispered in your ear, and you laughed. Someone else hit on you during the night, but you didn’t remember his name. When you lay in bed, you tried calling Jenny to tell her about your night, but she didn’t answer. And maybe that’s okay. . . . The first time you saw Art at Stanford, he was the one who actually saw you. "(Y/n)?" He lifted his sunglasses to his hair. He wore a Stanford T-shirt and pants that made you wonder if they were also Stanford coded. He had a racket bag over his shoulder. He looked confused. "Hey," you didn’t know what to say as you leaned against the only free tree you could find and tried to read one of the books from your syllabus, preparing for your first class. "Hey?" He almost chuckled as he sat down next to you, not taking his eyes off you. Like you’d disappear the second he blinked. He didn’t seem disappointed by your presence. "Shit, I was joking about California," he looked amused, still studying you. He took the book you were reading, like it was his, ran a hand over the cover. Like he knew everything he needed to know about the course just by looking at it. "Stanford was on my list, and it just felt more right," you tried to justify, to explain that it wasn’t because of him. He didn’t think it was because of him tho, not really. "How did they take it?" he asked, probably remembering details from your conversation at the party. "I don’t know, because they’re not talking to me," you said it in the same casual tone, like it didn’t bother you. "Damn," he muttered, "that bad?" he asked. "It’s whatever," you shrugged. "I’ve got to get to class, but I’ll see you around, yeah?" He stood up and walked away. You didn’t know if you’d actually see him around again, but the interaction had been nice. You think that maybe Art Donaldson won’t judge you. And that’s an interesting thought. . . . The next time you see him, you're in the middle of a shift, wearing a ridiculous apron and a ponytail that makes your hair look greasy. Needless to say, you’re embarrassed, but he doesn’t act like it’s a big deal. He says hello, which is surprising because he’s with friends, and you look, well…ridiculous. You say hello back, because you’re polite, and it’s the right thing to do. They sit down at one of the tables, and you hear his voice from a distance saying, “I know her from back home.” You think it’s a half-accurate description, because you don’t really know each other- not like he knows Patrick Zweig or Luke. Not like he knows Jenny. You also think the girl sitting next to him is very pretty. Pretty enough to hate her, but nice enough not to.
Casually, before they leave the diner, Art asks if you're going to a party someone in his dorm is throwing. You shrug in response because you hadn’t heard about it until now. “It’ll be fun, you should come,” he calls out, mentioning the building he lives in before he leaves with his friends. He didn’t have to invite you. He doesn’t have to invite you to places. You’re not his responsibility. You don’t want him to think you are. You don’t know if you’ll go. . . . When you received the email from the registrar notifying you that your account had already been paid and that there was no need for the duplicate payment you’d tried to make, you found yourself confused. When you realized your parents had paid the bill despite saying they wouldn’t, you ended up crying for two hours. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. They haven’t spoken to you in almost three months. They let you stew in guilt but are willing to pay your bills? It’s ridiculous. None of them answered when you tried to call to say thank you. You cried for another hour. 'Busy. Do you need anything?' -Jenny-
You think you need a hug. But that feels childish, so you send her an orange heart emoji. . . . You go to the party Art invited you to with Billie and Summer because, why not? You don’t mention that you got an invitation, just casually say you heard there’s a party and that it might be fun to check it out.
You decide to put on the dark lipstick again, you liked how it looked last time, and honestly, the feedback was great. This time, you stick with a thin shirt, ripped tights, and shorts- keeping it low-effort was part of the actual effort. You think it’s silly. But you look cute, so fuck it.
Art spots you before you notice him again. He comes up to you in the middle of a conversation, gently swiping the beer bottle from your hand, making you look at him as he takes a sip and hands it back. “You’re the hot guy from the posters,” Billie says shamelessly, looking straight at him. “Art,” he chuckles, introducing himself, making you roll your eyes. “Mind if I steal her for a bit?” He asks permission, which is ridiculous and funny, making you feel embarrassed as he hands you back the beer and leads you to another corner of the apartment by your other hand.
“Hey,” he says, brushing your hair back behind your ear. “Hey,” you reply with staged nonchalance. “You look good,” you add, because it’s true. The few times you’d seen him on campus, he was in Stanford sports gear. Seeing him again in a button-down and jeans felt like a privilege. “That’s what I’ve heard,” he responds, referencing Billie’s comment from a few minutes ago, taking the beer from you again. Maybe it’s over the top, sharing the same bottle. It’s relatively intimate for two people who don’t actually know each other.
One of his friends comes over and starts talking to Art about tennis, his gaze lingering on you. You wonder if Art realizes he’s standing closer to you in a slightly possessive way. That his hand is lightly brushing yours, that he keeps taking the bottle from you to drink from it, openly displaying that sense of intimacy.
“Do you want to get out of here?” You’re not sure where the courage to ask came from. Maybe it’s the tequila shots you took with Billie and Summer before heading out to the party. Maybe it’s the joint you passed between each other. But Art looks amused as he nods. You catch Summer out of the corner of your eye, giving you a thumbs-up and making exaggerated kissy faces. If Art saw her doing it, he didn’t say anything. The contrast between the noise in the building and the quiet outside surprises you. The silence between you wasn’t awkward, but you hoped he’d say something by now. He seemed to be enjoying himself too much to talk. “Want to head to the lake?” he suddenly asked, though you were already walking that way. You hadn’t actually been there yet, but you didn’t want to reveal that you didn’t know the area that well.
“Hey, give me your phone,” you said, stopping in your tracks. He stopped too, raising an eyebrow as he pulled his phone from his pocket. “So bossy,” he muttered with his signature smirk, but you entered your number and sent yourself a flower emoji so you could save his number later. When you reached the lake, it almost took your breath away. It looked like something out of a movie. You know it sounds like a cliché, but it really was like that- like an old movie, but not too old. The moon reflected off the lake, and a few people were sitting on the grass nearby. You sat on a table instead of the bench next to it. Art raised an eyebrow at the choice but shook his head like you’d done something funny.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, looking at you as if confessing a secret. “I’m glad I’m here, too.” You knew that’s not what he wanted to hear, but he laughed anyway. He sat on the bench below you, between your legs. You felt as if you had some kind of power. Your hand automatically moved through his curls. You thought about apologizing but decided not to. “How are you?” he asked. “I’m okay, I think. How are you?” you tossed the question back at him. “Seriously, how are you?” His fingers brushed over yours, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “With your parents and everything?” he added. “I’m fine,” you replied. You didn’t want to talk about it, and he didn’t push as much as you expected. His hand squeezed yours for a moment, as if he had more to say. Instead, he nodded and stood up, starting to walk with you just behind him.
You're walking alongside the lake, wondering if this path has an end, or if you even want it to. You think you might feel those butterflies in your stomach. "Do you know my first memory of you?" he asks suddenly, and you’re surprised. Part of you doesn’t want to know. It’s probably related to Jenny. Art has so many memories of Jenny, and they’re all negative. Deep down, you hope he doesn't remember you as this girl being attached at her hip. "The day after my dad's funeral, you gave me a daisy you picked from someone’s garden." He chuckles, but it sounds bitter. You don’t remember this. You do remember, though, that for years, until you both drifted and each found your own group of friends—he called you "Daisy." You never knew why. "Oh." You don’t know what to say, so that’s what comes out a bit pathetic. "I didn’t even know it was a daisy, if the story details matter," you try to lighten things up. "I asked my grandmother," he says, and the two of you chuckle. "That’s why you called me Daisy for three years straight?" you ask. "God. Why do you remember that?" He puts a hand over his face, as if he’s embarrassed or something. "I thought maybe you didn’t know my name, and since I was Jenny’s sister, you just rolled with it." You laugh. "It suited you, Daisy," he says, and his hand moves your hair behind your ear. This isn’t the first time he’s done that, but this time he also looks at your lips. You feel like he’s looking at your soul if that's even possible.
"I really wanted to kiss you at Luke's party," you admit, because it feels like the right moment. "Oh yeah? So why didn’t you kiss me?" he asks, wetting his lower lip with his tongue. "I’ve wanted to do it since eighth grade, and then I had the chance and didn't know what to do" You look at him. His smile is still plastered across his face, and you wish he wasn’t so smug all the time. "Maybe I wanted you to kiss me at Luke's party," he says, almost ignoring what you just said. "Little Daisy, sitting by the pool alone. Maybe I approached you with intent? Maybe I was goi-" You don’t give him the satisfaction of finishing his sentence, as you crash your lips onto his like you’re possessed. His smile lingers for a few moments. His hands pull you closer to him as he presses you back against a light pole you didn’t know was behind you.
Art Donaldson is a good kisser. No one can take that from him. He’s an amazing kisser. His tongue is way too skilled. His hands have found their way under your shirt as if that’s their natural place. His lips move perfectly in sync with yours, and when you both pause to catch your breath, he presses his forehead against yours. He places small kisses on your cheek, then on your neck, and only when you lean your head back and bump into the pole do you remember that you’re in a public space. People could see you. This is not your style. "Okay, we’re good," you tap his chest lightly, making him laugh the most delightful laugh you’ve ever heard. "Is this everything you dreamed of before starting high school?" he asks, planting another small kiss on your cheek, as if he just can’t help himself or something. "I didn’t dream about kisses like this, Donaldson." You roll your eyes, thinking it’s pretty ridiculous that you’re smiling right now.
When you reach your dorm, you wonder if you should invite him in. You think he’d say yes. But you also think there’s something beautiful about leaving the night as it is- two people who used to know each other, kissing by a lake. He gives you a small kiss and takes out his phone as he turns to leave, while you head inside, unable to resist leaning against the door.
'Since eighth grade, huh?' -Unknown Number-
'Shut up.' -(Y/N)-
He replies with a flower emoji. You think the intention is daisy. Maybe you’re overthinking it. . . . You don’t expect Art to text you the next morning. You had that night together; it was great, and maybe it was exactly what you needed to get him out of your system. Maybe it was what you needed to finally move on from that endless crush on Art Donaldson. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a bit disappointed when he didn’t reach out at all, as if he’d disappeared from the face of the earth. But that’s probably fine. He doesn’t owe you anything, and you don’t owe him. You each have your own lives at Stanford. You’re trying to juggle work and studies. You’re supposed to submit a thirty-page paper after Thanksgiving, and you’ve only written three. Clearly, you have enough to keep you busy.
Your mom called a few days ago, and you cried. Because you hadn’t really talked in almost four months. She said Jenny convinced her. It’s kind of messed up, but you don’t say that. You’re just glad someone convinced her. You’ve been thinking a lot lately about how strange it is- how you never behaved outside of what was expected of you, and the one time you did, they reacted as if you’d committed a crime. You think about it even when you’re trying not to think about it. Your mom asked if you’re coming home for Thanksgiving. You said no. You wonder if it made her sad only after you hung up. . . . The next time you see Art, he’s flirting with a redhead at a Thanksgiving party Summer convinced you to attend. Honestly, you could’ve skipped this party, but Summer said she wanted the girl who invited her there. So you bit your tongue and told her you’d meet her there, because that’s what friends do.
It’s easy to tell when Art is flirting; it’s basically exaggerated hand gestures and a level of closeness he’s never tried with you. You’ve seen him in action before. You try not to stare, because it doesn’t really matter. Instead, you look for Summer, who’s on the opposite side of the room, directly in Art’s line of sight. It makes you smile, knowing he’ll see that you’re here. You’ve decided you’re going to ignore him. You made that decision when you passed by him on your way to Summer, feeling his eyes on you but not meeting his gaze.
When Summer slips away to sit with Caitlin -the girl she’s interested in- a guy you don’t recognize approaches you. He introduces himself and offers you a drink. You politely decline, you’re smarter than to accept punch from a complete stranger. He’s nice, but standing a little too close for your comfort. He leans over you, and you feel a bit trapped between him and the wall you’re leaning against. You could walk away, of course, but the whole situation feels uncomfortable. You wonder where Summer is, unable to see her in the crowd.
"Don’t you think you’re a bit too close?" Art’s voice is firm and unyielding as he positions himself next to you, raising an eyebrow at the guy. "Sorry, man, thought she was single," he says, disappearing like he was never there. Neither of you bother to correct him about the two of you not actually being together. You roll your eyes at Art and head toward the kitchen, feeling his steps following behind. You spot Summer with Caitlin on one of the couches, and she gives you a nod, signaling that she’s fine and that you’re free to leave if you want. "Hey, you didn’t go home," he says behind you, as if everything is normal. "Quite the observation, Donaldson," you say, knowing you’re being mean. But, fuck it, he deserves it. You grab a beer from the kitchen and head outside, with him trailing beside you. "You’re mad at me because I didn’t text you," he sighs, prompting you to stop and raise an eyebrow at him. "You really think you’re something special, huh?" Maybe a bit too harsh, but it’s all you’ve got right now. "I don’t think I’m anything special. I just didn’t know what to say." He sighs again as you start walking away from the building. "It was a good night. I didn’t want to ruin it, you know?" You think he sounds almost shy. His voice is softer than usual, and you remind yourself that you also labeled that night as a good one, as a nice experience you didn’t want to spoil. So maybe it’s unfair to be angry- after all, you could have reached out to him, too. But what would you have even said? The three weeks since then passed quickly, and most of the time, you didn’t think about him at all. So it’s fine. Everything’s really fine.
"It’s ok, Donaldson, I wasn’t sitting by the phone waiting for a message from you. You can let it go," you sum up, trying to sound amused and light-hearted, though it comes out a bit too bitter for your liking. "So why didn’t you go home?" he asks, changing the subject. "I’m working." You shrug. He raises an eyebrow, like someone who knows that’s not the whole truth but also understands he’s treading on thin ice right now and shouldn’t push for more. "Why didn’t you go?" you throw the question back at him, trying to show him that it’s all good. "I’ve got a match tomorrow, plus my mom doesn’t really care," he replies, and you nod, understanding a bit of what he means. You knew his mom- she always struck you as the coldest person in the world. "What are you doing at a party if you have a match tomorrow?" you ask, raising an eyebrow, wondering if it’s too harsh, because you’re trying to steer the conversation onto calmer ground. "It’s in the afternoon," he shrugs. "You don’t have to walk with me, my dorms are really close," you say after a few moments of silence. "We’re good? We're friends and you’re not mad at me anymore, right, Daisy?" he asks, nudging his shoulder against yours. You roll your eyes at the silly nickname, but you don’t find it in yourself to correct him.
"We’re good," you conclude, walking into your building, leaving him behind. . . . The next day, you decide to go to his game after your shift, only to find out that Patrick fucking Zweig is also sitting in the small crowd. Most of the students eager to see Stanford’s star in action probably love their families more and decided to go home. You sat far from Patrick, but it didn’t stop him from giving you a puzzled look as he whispered something to the girl sitting next to him, who was fully focused on Art's game. You remembered her from the diner the other day. She’s beautiful.
Art won to the applause of the crowd that stayed to watch until the end. Two hours of the ball going back and forth and sounds that were almost erotic. Whatever. You consider heading back to your dorm without saying anything just to avoid talking to Patrick. But Art smiles at you and gives a small wave, so you know there's no way to get out of at least saying hello. You need to suck it up. “Congratulations, Donaldson,” you mumble, and he gives you the smuggest smile he can find. “Little (Y/L/N), long time,” Patrick says to you with half-loudness. He doesn’t say anything bad, but you shrink a little. Trying to remember the last time someone called you that. Probably at Luke's party. Art looks at you with an apologetic look as if he knows. He probably doesn’t know. But that's okay. “How’s the tour?” you ask politely because it’s the right thing to do. “Good, good,” he says, shifting his gaze from you to Art and back to you. Like a man with a plan. “Want to have dinner with us?” he asks. In any other situation, you’d laugh, because the odds of you sitting at the same table with Patrick Zweig would be slim, especially considering his history with Jenny. “I wish, but I have a paper due in a few days, and I really have to work on it. Maybe next time,” you smile the most genuine smile you can find and quickly move away.
“Dude, you didn’t tell me Little (Y/L/N) was here,” you hear Patrick laugh. “Shut up, Patrick,” you’re almost sure you heard Art reply.
'You wish?' -Art Donaldson- He sent it half an hour later when you were already sitting at your computer with a cup of coffee in hand.
You turned off your phone. You need to focus. . . . Art came to your work far more often than you expected. He probably tried every dish on the menu, including the pancakes with the “secret” sauce that you suspect is just chocolate mixed with overly sticky jam. He sometimes studied there or came with his friends. He talked to you but not too much, and you texted each other from time to time. Were you friends? It felt strange to think that Art Donaldson and you were friends- not because he wasn’t someone you’d want to call a friend, but because you’d finally let go of the idea of him as someone out of reach.
One day, when he walked you home, he asked why you took on a fourth shift, since you usually didn’t work Mondays. “Are you keeping tabs on me, Donaldson?” you asked with a half-smile. “Daisy,” he sighed, as if you were being ridiculous, even though he was the one who knew your schedule and which days you didn’t usually work. “I’m saving up for a ticket home for the holidays, so,” you shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “You haven’t bought a ticket yet?” he asked, looking at you with raised eyebrows. “I’m buying it myself, so it’s taking me a minute.” Your parents had made it very clear they were only paying for your dorm. You bought your own books, and you had to cover your own flights. You didn’t look at him when you said it, afraid he might judge you- even if it was silly.
He stopped and looked at you. “That’s fucked up, (Y/N).” Whenever Art said your name like that recently, you knew he was serious, and that the conversation was drifting somewhere too deep. Like the time you talked about his grandmother, or his dad. “It is what it is,” you replied, continuing to walk, hoping he would keep walking too. You didn’t want to dwell on the fact that they bought Jenny her train ticket. You didn’t want to dwell on the thought that even if it was cheaper, no one made her feel guilty for the only choice she’d ever made in her life. “I could get you a ticket,” he said, and this time, you stopped. “What the fuck?” you asked, your voice going up an octave. “I don’t need you to–” “For the miles. You can pay me back later,” he shrugged like it was no big deal. “I don’t need you to buy me a ticket. I don’t need your money, Art, let it go.” Your voice shook a little; you wondered if he heard it. “It’s not out of pity,” he said, voicing what you didn’t say. But you kept walking as if you hadn’t heard him.
“I wonder if we’ll find a spot in the library tomorrow,” you changed the subject to the first thing that popped into your head. Art didn’t say anything, but you knew it was the last thing he cared about at that moment. . . . A week before your flight, Billie cut your bangs. It’s not a cry for help, you told everyone who gave you a weird look. It’s cute. It’s fucking cute, ok? Art watched you from across the room at Patrick's party. You wondered if he'd say hello or if you'd both act like, at best, casual acquaintances- or, at worst, like you were just Jenny's little sister. You missed Lia and a few others who were fun to drink with and gossip with. You found out that Michelle was pregnant, which was a fucking scandal.
“Hey, stranger.” Art said when you walked into the kitchen. His eyes were redder than usual, and his smile was mischievous but tired. “I didn’t think you’d come,” he said, making Lia glance between the two of you. “Did you see she cut her bangs?” she asked, taking a sip from a drink you couldn’t quite identify. “It’s not a cry for help.” “It’s not a cry for help,” you both said together, but Art used a screechy voice, like he was imitating you, making Lia laugh. “She’s been yelling that at people all week,” he said to her, as if you weren’t standing right there. You considered grabbing a glass of wine and leaving them to talk alone. “Dave’s here,” Lia said suddenly, and you saw Art tense, his smile fading as if he sobered up instantly. If it weren’t for his telltale red eyes, there’d be no trace of it.
You and Dave had been together most of your last year in high school. He was the first guy you slept with, which was fine. It was just that everything felt a bit weirder whenever he was around since you broke up. It felt like you’d gone from friends to lovers to people scared of catching some incurable disease from each other if you'd even look at one another. “It’s totally fine,” you rolled your eyes, because, well, it really was fine. You hadn’t felt anything for Dave for almost a year. You regretted not knowing how he was doing or how he was handling college, but that’s life- you win some, you lose some.
“Little (Y/L/N),” Patrick Zweig’s voice grated in your ear. “Where’s (Y/L/N)?” he added quickly, probably drunker than usual, though you weren’t surprised. “Patrick,” Art muttered toward him, almost whining, like a man shocked by his best friend’s crudeness. “She’s at home, wasn’t feeling well.” You wondered if that was a convincing excuse for Jenny skipping Patrick’s party. But it was the excuse she left with you, and that’s what you’d stick to. “Well, at least we’ve got one family representative. What can you tell us about Art in California?” he asked, and you wondered why he was so desperate to put you in the spotlight. “Patrick, leave her alone,” Art’s tone was defensive, giving the guy next to him no option to dig any further. Patrick just flashed a mischievous grin and raised his hands in feigned surrender. “I like the bangs, you wear a mental breakdown well,” he chuckled and left the kitchen as chaotically as he’d entered, yelling something to Luke about beer pong. “Sorry, he’s an asshole,” Art said, sighing. You wondered when Lia had disappeared from your view. “He’s… Patrick,” you rolled your eyes. And it was true, you knew he didn’t act this way out of malice, he was just like that. “Want to get out of here?” Art asked. “Don’t you want to spend some time with your friends?” you returned the question. “I could use some air. Besides, who’s my friend here?” he shrugged. And as you both headed outside, you thought that was the saddest thing Art Donaldson had ever said to you.
"How does it feel to be home?" he asked. You want to say it’s ok, that it’s exactly what you dreamed, but it’s more like what you expected it would be. Your parents aren’t mad at you anymore, but they don’t approve of your decision either, and they remind you at every opportunity that they think you made a mistake. “It’s fine.” You shrugged. “I hate it when you say that,” he had this bitter laugh. “What?” You stopped for a moment and looked at him. “Every time you say something’s ‘fine,’ I know it’s not, and I have no idea how to get you to tell me.” He sighed, sitting down on a bench that hadn’t gotten wet from the rain that fell earlier in the afternoon.
“I’m not lying to you,” you tried to defend yourself, searching through your mind for other times you’d said something was ‘fine.’ You think he’s exaggerating. “I don’t think you’re lying. I think you don’t want to say things out loud,” he said. You think that if he weren’t a little drunk, he wouldn’t have brought up this conversation. “It’s weird, being home,” you said after a few seconds. He looked at you with wide eyes, waiting for you to say more. “I hate it when people call me ‘Little (Y/L/N).’ It feels like I don’t exist without Jenny,” you said, sharing something you hadn’t even told Lia. “I know,” Art said. “That’s why I get mad at Patrick when he calls you that.” He sighed for what felt like the hundredth time. “How did you know?” you asked, surprised by the nonchalance with which he said it. “Haven’t you figured it out yet?” he asked with a half-smile, “I just know you, Daisy.” And if you didn’t know he was drunk and tired, you’d think there was sadness in his eyes. . . . A few days later, you saw Patrick at the grocery store, which was strange in itself because you were pretty sure Patrick Zweig had assistants to go grocery shopping for him. “Little (Y/L/N),” he said, and you’re fairly sure the smile on his face was genuine; he was actually glad to run into you. “Happy Christmas,” he said, stopping in front of you, holding a carton of orange juice and what looked like a frozen pizza. “I’m Jewish,” you rolled your eyes, only making him smile more. He knew that- he could deny it all he wanted, but Patrick knew Jenny very well, and you and Jenny shared genes. You both paid quietly for your items at the checkout, and as you stepped outside, he lit a cigarette, looking at you with an expression that seemed to expect you to stop and stand with him.
“I’m really glad you’re there with him at Stanford, you know?” he said after a few puffs of smoke. “Yeah? Why?” You tried to avoid smiling at him. You didn’t think he deserved a smile; he’s a jerk. “Because he’s better when you’re around,” he said softly, with a kind of depth you hadn’t seen in him before- something that made you think you understood what Jenny saw in him, how he managed to break her heart. “At tennis?” you asked. Because that’s all Patrick cared about- tennis, girls, and maybe Art. “At everything.” He shrugged, all the depth disappearing as he began to walk away. “Happy Hanukkah, Little (Y/L/N). Say hi to your sister for me.” You could see a wink. Patrick Zweig is defiantly an asshole. . . . You and Art went together to the New Year’s party at Stanford. Billie and Summer haven’t returned yet, and you’re almost certain Art moved his flight to catch the same one as yours, but you didn’t ask him about it because you think it would make you seem too smug. And you’re not. You really aren’t. You just think that if anything had changed from the last time he asked if you two were friends, he would have told you. But he hasn’t, so…whatever.
He sat on your bed today while you did your makeup, never taking his eyes off you through the mirror. Someone watching might think you’d hypnotized him. You don’t think you saw him blink once in the fifteen minutes he stared at you. “You like what you see?” you asked with a half-smile, still looking at his reflection. “What if I do?” he shrugged, as if this ridiculous flirtation was the truest thing he’d said in ages.
You decide not to linger too hard on his hand holding yours all the way to the party. Or on the fact that he kept you close to him while talking to people you didn’t know. On the effort he put into participating in a conversation with a friend you met in one of your courses. You try not to blush when he leans in and asks if you’re planning to kiss him at midnight. He's being bold. You think he’s acting like a brat. It should bother you. It doesn’t bother you.
You kiss him at midnight. Or maybe he kisses you. You’re not exactly sure, because you’re both so wrapped up in your own bubble, ignoring the drunken students around you. Your foreheads touch, and in an instant, your lips are on his, or his are on yours. It doesn’t matter. The result is the same. Beer and gum, and something else you can’t quite identify, maybe desperation. You like the mix. Maybe you shouldn’t, but you could get used to it. “It’s not silly, right?” you ask quietly while you both catch your breath. “It’s anything but silly, Daisy,” he says with certainty. And you don’t think you’ve ever heard Art Donaldson sound so resolute.
He kisses you all over when you get to your room. You thank the holiday gods for keeping your roommates away. Your red dress finds itself on the floor much faster than you expected. He’s too good at this. You’d feel much less confident if he didn’t look at you like you held the sun in your left hand and the moon in your right. You find yourself sitting on top of him in your bra and underwear, his hands on your hips steadying you. You’ve never felt sexier than you do right now. A little voice in your head screams at you to engrave this feeling. But you silence it; it’s insecure and reminds you of Jenny, the last person you want to think about when you’re at second base with Art Donaldson.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs as his lips trail down your neck to your chest, unclasping your bra with one hand like a pro. “Shut up,” you manage to say, and he chuckles into you, as if he’s trying to bury himself within you. It's hot, stupidly hot. In a few minutes, he half-gently tosses you onto the bed, stripping down with a speed you didn’t think possible. He leans over you in boxers, and you close your eyes for a moment, knowing you have to remember this. Because he really is a work of Art. You’ve never known anyone whose name suited them more.
His lips were everywhere on your body at once, if that’s even possible, and his fingers slid in and out of you before you even realized you’d lost your underwear or when you’d started making that sound from your throat. Everything embarrassed you but also felt natural. You’ve never experienced such a range of emotions with anyone else, and the second that thought crossed your mind, you found yourself on the edge, and Art was above you, pressing soft kisses to your stomach, whispering soothing words while you caught your breath.
He entered you, and you felt like he was enveloping you from every angle, your moans blending together. You think a tear slipped down your cheek. You’re almost sure Art kissed you right where it fell. He was both gentle and rough at the same time. You don’t think that makes sense, but a lot of things tonight don’t make sense. You almost laugh at that thought but decide against it. Instead, you look at him, only to find his eyes already on yours, and he’s so beautiful, with his blond curls and that smile stretched across his face. “Fuck, Art,” you manage to mumble as you feel another orgasm building within you, you didn’t know you were capable of more than one. To be honest, even one was rare until recently. “I know, Daisy, I know,” he says in a half-strangled voice before his lips are back on yours, his hand wrapping around yours, and you think it’s incredibly intimate. You’ve never had sex like this before. You don’t think there’s any trace of your old crush left. You think it might be love. After he cleans you up with a towel he soaked with warm water, he lies beside you, and the small bed forces you to stay close. Maybe it’s Art who refuses to let go. You’re not sure why, but your legs are tangled together and your head is resting on his chest. “Are you going to break my heart again?” he asks, and you don’t know what he means because you’ve never broken anyone’s heart, least of all Art Donaldson’s. But he’s so certain in his question, he doesn’t take it back. He doesn’t correct himself. “When did I ever break your heart?” you asked. “When didn’t you?” he replies with a half-laugh. “You gave me a flower when I was eight and then didn’t talk to me for ten years,” he says quietly, like he’s sharing a secret you already knew but never understood.
It’s definitely love. You think you’re okay with that.
Hey? I don't even know what's going on but i'd like you to tell me what you think about that? that's it. Talk to me I guess.............
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jenscx · 9 months ago
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CALL IT WANT YOU WANT — yu jimin x f!reader
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the self-on kode with karina had boosted your popularity as a solo member immensely. you find yourself invited to another show; nothing much prepared. yet, you weren’t exactly alone this time.
TAGS — fluff, lesserafim member!yn, flirty!karina, continuation of magnetic, lee youngji’s show, lowk crack
WORDCOUNT — 2.3k
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your manager drops you off in front of an apartment complex. waving goodbye to him, and with a promise to not stir up any trouble, you enter the apartment building, nerves trembling. reaching the lobby, you press on the call button, dialling in lee youngji’s apartment number.
“hello!” you greet as youngji’s face comes into view.
“oh my,” youngji gasps, “hurry up before i leave!”
“this is your house though?” the video ends abruptly. you laugh as you enter the lift.
the lift slowly brings you up, a stranger eyeing you weirdly. pulling up the mask closer to your face, you resist the urge to run away.
the lift dings, and you exit, turning corners to finally reach her apartment. pressing on the doorbell gingerly, you start to remove your shoes. you hear youngji’s rapid footsteps as she approaches.
“y/n-ssi!” youngji shrieks. cheers resound from the small crowd of staff. cameras and lights form a semicircle, capturing your every move. you smile shyly at everyone, waving your hand.
“welcome to my house!”
“Is this your actual house?” you ask, “not like a set?”
youngji laughs, “what makes you think i can afford a set like this? of course it’s my actual house!” you nod, grin plastered on your face as you sit down on the cushion. youngji immediately starts introducing the various food items she prepared for you.
yet, when she points at a certain plate, your eyes widen in recognition as she states, “that’s for our other guest, she likes tonkatsu.”
“other guest…?” you repeat, “my manager didn’t say anything about another guest.”
youngji grins at you apologetically, “because we didn’t inform him about it! no worries, you should be well-acquainted with her!”
the staff laughs at your reaction, glaring at youngji who paces around the room.
the webcam rings again. you try to soothe your nerves by slurping up the noodles youngji had prepared. acquainted with you? and someone who likes tonkatsu? you couldn’t believe it. could youngji really manage to get..?
“karina unnie! welcome back to my house!” your heart drops.
the familiar idol peeks around the corner.
“y/n?” jimin gapes. you share a similar reaction. youngji claps gleefully at the interaction.
“welcome back my favourite unnie and my newest unnie!” your eyes narrow while jimin’s crinkle into an eye smile.
“please take a seat next to y/n unnie!” you tense up before shifting slightly to accommodate for the unexpected arrival. jimin grins, sitting down with her humongous bag. “hi, nice to see you again. you haven’t replied to my message yet.”
“i was busy,” you reply in a low voice. jimin only rolls her eyes and moves in closer. you feel your throat constrict at the closeness.
“youngji, can i have water please?” you ask. the girl mentioned immediately brings out a large bottle from the fridge, placing it on the table. she clears her throat, “okay, now that we are all settled! today we have y/n-ssi and karina-ssi!”
you cheer awkwardly along with the staff.
“this is the first time we have two people from different groups!” youngji exclaims, “unnie, of course, has been here before and y/n is here for the first time.”
youngji turns to you, “have you watched unnie’s episode?”
“ah… no i haven’t…” you glance at jimin apologetically. the idol turns to you, affronted.
“y/n, that’s so hurtful!” jimin pouts. you look away, coughing to mask the choking sensation caused by her big puppy eyes.
you take a large gulp of alcohol, youngji laughs at your expense.
“have you watched any of y/n-ssi’s content recently then?” youngji prompts.
jimin sighs, hands going to massage her temples exaggeratedly, “of course! i watched her vlog to japan and her dazed interview.”
you try to hide your red face behind the glass of alcohol, eyes darting from jimin’s piercing gaze.
“y/n-ssi, did you hear that? unnie has been keeping up with your content!” your ears flush maroon.
“sorry… i’ve been busy with stuff,” you defend yourself. jimin giggles, sipping on her miniature cup. her posture seems relaxed and calm, of course, since this would be her second time appearing on the show. meanwhile, you sit upright, meekly staring at youngji.
“how have you guys been? aespa’s having a comeback, right?”
jimin brightens up, “yes, it’s our first full album. we have a pre-release single called supernova and our title track is armageddon! please show lots of love since it will be our first time promoting a full album!” the staff breaks out in applause. you clap along.
“y/n-ssi!” youngji calls out, “are you going to buy their album?” you gape at youngji, “uh, sure!”
“shouldn’t you ask unnie for a signed copy?”
“ah… uhm, karina-ssi—”
jimin pouts at you, “call me unnie and i’ll give it to you!”
you feel faint at the close proximity of her beauty.
“unnie…”
the idol laughs, patting you on the back, “youngji, isn’t she so cute? her reaction is the opposite of minjeong but they’re both so funny.”
“what’s your mbti? wait no— i’ll guess!” youngji shrieks. even before she opens her mouth a second time, jimin swiftly answers, “istj!”
“oh, sorry, but even if you’re older than me you can’t just interrupt like that,” youngji deadpans. you choke on the water you were drinking. jimin only swats at the host, “i was helping you. you definitely couldn’t guess her mbti.”
you cough, “jimin is correct.”
“unnie, you’re istj? wow!”
“i think it’s quite obvious, no?” you ask, pointing at yourself. jimin shoots you a smile.
“how do you guys feel about your episode on self-on kode reaching five million views? it’s one of the most popular videos now. please say something to the camera,” youngji asks. jimin nudges you while she takes a bite out of the tonkatsu. you blush thinking about the video.
“i’m thankful for all of jimin’s fans who watched the video and enjoyed our interaction. it was my first time appearing solo and i was worried that my personality would be too timid and shy. but i’m glad our fans liked the video,” you smile at the camera, “to all the mys and fearnots, i love you all.”
youngji sighs, “unnie.”
“yes?”
“should we just get married? i think i should pay more taxes to witness your smile.”
jimin interrupts again, cheeks puffed with food, “no!”
the subtitle underneath would read, ‘in a fight between whales, the shrimp is the one that gets hurt.’
“y/n is mine,” jimin says after swallowing. you just stare at her incredulously.
“unnie, you can’t just claim people like that! what if y/n unnie doesn’t like you!”
“i don’t care, i met her first.” you think this side of jimin is incredibly childish. and cute.
youngji frowns but then bursts out into laughter, “okay let’s say, we share y/n unnie.”
jimin shakes her head.
“okay, pick between, no shin-chan or no y/n— let’s play a balance game!” your eyes widen as youngji yells. maybe too much energy was a bad thing.
“three, two, one, answer!”
jimin huffs, “no y/n…”
you chuckle, of course jimin’s love for shin-chan would prevail. you roughly remember the boo keychain she had given you last time after the shoot ended, thankful that you dealt with her nonsense.
you didn’t bother telling her you had fun. she could probably tell from the smile on your face.
“lee youngji, jay park or y/n? three, two, one—”
youngji slams the table, scoffing, “unnie, let’s just continue the shoot without you.”
jimin claps gleefully. as the idol laughs, her hand comes striking down on your back. you yelp in pain, surprised by the forcefulness of her slap.
“—oh! i’m sorry!”
you narrow your eyes at jimin, “was that on purpose?”
“i would never slap someone like that on purpose!” jimin was such a liar. you’ve been her victim many times.
“unnie, even y/n unnie is scared of you,” youngji says, bringing out a candy ring from her pocket, “that’s why, y/n unnie should marry me instead.”
you laugh loudly, reaching out your hand to receive the ring.
“hey, didn’t you give me a shin-chan ring?”
“that was in the past, it is all about the future—”
“i’m going to slap you next!”
while the two bicker, you slip on the ring, yet it doesn’t fit quite as snug as you hoped. a little loose around the edges, jimin notices your call for help. deft fingers wrap around yours, trying to tighten the ring. a snippet of her tongue pokes out, eyes focused on securing the ring. your eyes flicker to her face. it’s adorable how jimin is so concentrated.
“there,” her eyes shone, “it’s secure now.”
you look back at her, mumbling, “thank you, jimin.”
a voice breaks your eye contact, “i’m sorry, but is this a blind date? am i interrupting? should i leave?” youngji stands up.
you hastily try to pull her arm back to sit down, “no!”
“yes!” jimin nods. you glare at jimin, who pouts again. what was god thinking when he made jimin? did he not consider how many heart attacks her pout would cause?
“ah, young love,” youngji sighs, lamenting as she sits down again, “unnie has mentioned you countless times on bubble.”
“oh, really?” you turn to jimin, in disbelief.
jimin scowls, “lee youngji, don’t buy my bubble just to tease me.”
“i didn’t buy your bubble!”
“ah, you bought mark’s one, right?” you ask, remembering the episode with twice. youngji nods excitedly, “you watched nayeon and chaeyoung unnie’s episode?”
you nod, “i’m a once, it was a very fun episode.”
“unnie, flatter me more and i’ll ask them to text you.”
laughing, you shake your head, “it’s okay, i’m happy being a once and watching their content.”
“i heard you were a fan of got7 too.”
“yes, ahgase was actually my nickname in the self-on kode episode.”
“jimin unnie, you said you liked older women in the episode,” youngji asks, “how did you feel when you found out y/n unnie is younger?”
“of course i was still happy! i liked y/n ever since lesserafim debut,” jimin says, “and park y/n, you watch twice but not aespa content?”
your eyes widen as you shake your hands in front of you, denying, “no, i watched twice’s episode a long time ago! i didn’t have time to watch yours!”
“what if it was minjeong who came? would you watch it?”
at this point, jimin was just having fun teasing you.
“i really didn’t have time,” you whine. jimin sighs dramatically, “maybe i’m the only one putting in effort in this friendship.”
“jimin unnie, i think you should consider acting,” youngji says out of the blue, “like a first love turned ex type of drama.”
jimin laughs. you could definitely imagine jimin acting. but maybe for the sake of your sanity, she shouldn’t act in any romance drama for now.
“have you guys met recently after the self-on kode episode? all your fans have been wondering and ah! did you see the article about y/nrina’s outing?”
you roughly recalled such an article. chaewon had showed it to you. it was a few weeks after the episode had aired and jimin wanted to go out. you had agreed, and unbeknownst to the two of you, there was a fan who took a photo of you at the restaurant.
“we went to a photobooth, and to the arcade. i think fearnots may know but jimin won a plushie there, the cute cat one that i posted on weverse. then we went to go eat.”
youngji pulls out a piece of paper, the photo printed on it.
“lee youngji, what is this prop?” jimin asks.
“newest edition to our show!” youngji says proudly, pointing at the two familiar figures, “can you explain this photo?” it was the trending photo of jimin and you fighting over the bill before jimin ended up handing her card to the waiter, happily smiling at you.
“jimin wanted to pay the bill and i disagreed, wanting to split half-half,” you explain, “we played rock paper scissors and jimin won, so she paid.”
jimin grins, looping her arm through yours, “but next time y/n is paying!”
“next time, will you guys invite me too?”
“sure!” you exclaim, “we can go eat pork belly. let’s shake on it!” you extend your hand, grasping youngji’s and shaking in a firm grip.
youngji pulls back, eyeing her hand as she says, “i’m never washing this hand again.”
“lee youngji—”
“ah, unnie, isn’t it time for you to go home?” youngji perks up. jimin shakes her head, “i wanna stay here longer.”
“unnie, don’t make me call your manager,” youngji turns to you for help.
you sigh, grabbing jimin’s humongous bag and trying to get her to stand up, “jimin, please get up.”
jimin resists for a few seconds. you smile shyly at her. she finally relents.
turning to the camera, you grin, “thank you for inviting us today, youngji! i had a lot of fun and so did jimin.”
“thank you for coming!” youngji smirks, “and thank you for dragging unnie home! let’s stay in contact y/n unnie!”
you wave goodbye at the crew and drag the frowning jimin out of the apartment. after successfully reaching the door, you put on your shoes. jimin’s arms wrap around your back as she sighs, “y/n…”
“hm? what is it?”
“i want a kiss.”
you smack her shoulder, “no, get off me.”
“please y/n! i didn’t even tease you that much this time! and if youngji can ask for your hand in marriage, you should allow your girlfriend to ask for a kiss!”
“on the cheek.”
“no!” jimin points at her lips, “here!”
glossy, red and plump. your eyes zero in, but you shake your head, “no, jimin. control yourself. we’re still outside youngji’s apartment.”
jimin huffs, sulking as she puts on her shoes.
“in the lift,” you say, “i’ll give you a kiss in the lift.”
your girlfriend perks up, tying her shoelaces with a speed unknown to mankind. you giggle at her eagerness.
“y/n, hurry up!” jimin yells, pulling your arm towards the lift lobby.
nothing has really changed. you still can’t find yourself denying yu jimin. even after she’s become your girlfriend.
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moonstruckme · 4 months ago
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hello mae! you said that you’re tentatively thinking about doing poly! jily? how about them x shy!reader who is used to spending holidays alone but now that she’s in a relationship, James and Lily wanna give her experiences of like carving pumpkins, baking cookies, or something like that.
just cute and domestic fall activities!! I hope that’s enough.
Thank you for requesting lovely!
poly!Jily x shy!reader ♡ 845 words
You smile, and James plants his lips on your cheek just before the flash. 
“Perfect,” Lily says while the camera whirs. She takes the photo it spits out, going to stow it in a shady corner of the porch. 
“Now one with you,” James urges. 
“No.” Lily waves him off as you second James’ request. “How would we get all of us and our pumpkins in it?” 
“James has long arms,” you say.
"Yeah, Evans." James grabs you roughly around the shoulders, making your face heat even as you smile. "I have long arms. Give it here."
After some debate Lily hands over the camera. James holds it out as far as he can, waiting until you’re all holding up your jack-o-lanterns before pressing the button. 
It goes beside the other photo, waiting for the film to develop. You know as soon as it does, both photos will be clustered in with the others on James and Lily’s fridge, held up by magnets beginning to lose their strength under the weight of so many. Lily has always liked to take pictures, and ever since you got together she’s been cramming ones of you into every empty space. This relationship is relatively new for you, and most days you’re still trying to figure out where you fit, but Lily and James do everything to make you feel welcome. In a million tiny ways, they show you all the time that they care just as much for you as they do for each other. 
James looks between your pumpkins pridefully. “Whose do we think turned out the best?” 
“Lily’s,” you say at the same time as Lily says, “Mine.” 
James’ mouth falls open. “Mine was good too!”
“Sorry, Jamie.” You give his shoulder a consoling pat. “Hers is just better.” 
The fact of the matter is, your girlfriend was simply patient where you and James were not. She outlined her jack-o-lantern’s face beforehand in marker, used a small knife to achieve the curvatures of one heart-shaped eye and one winking one, and took the time to make the edges of her cuts look nice and clean. James and you, however, tried to freehand things with much larger knives; it had not gone quite so well. 
“I think there should be points for creativity,” says James, frowning at his botched pumpkin. He’d tried to give it round eyes, and in the process accidentally cut more than he meant to. The result is jagged and vaguely upsetting, so eventually he decided it was an ill pumpkin and trailed its entrails out of its mouth so it looks like it’s vomiting pumpkin guts. 
“It was a very creative solution,” Lily tells James. And to you, “You did really well for your first time, too, sweetheart.” 
You snort. Yours is nearly as bad as James’. Both of your partners had to show you how to saw through the pumpkin flesh more than once to keep you from yanking the knife out and stabbing yourself. After many tutorials, you’d managed two triangle-shaped eyes, but the teeth you’d tried to put in your jack-o-lantern’s mouth had fallen out, so now it just looks like a rather simplistic, very upbeat face. 
“You did,” Lily insists, but she’s repressing a laugh too as she looks down at your pumpkin. “It’s cute.” 
“It looks like something a five-year-old could have done,” you acknowledge. 
“You and a five-year-old have about the same amount of experience carving pumpkins, so that’s not really so bad,” says James. He reaches for the polaroids Lily took. “Let’s see how these turned out.” 
“James Potter,” Lily’s voice goes sharp, “don’t you dare touch those with your slimy hands.” 
“Okay, alright.” James holds his hands up in the air. He stands instead, backing away slowly like Lily has him at gunpoint. “C’mon, lovie, let’s go fish the seeds out in the sink.” 
“What for?” you ask, following him as he carries your large bowl of pumpkin entrails inside. 
“If you separate the seeds and roast them, you can eat them.” James raises his eyebrows at you. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had pumpkin seeds before.” 
“Nope.” 
“Ugh. You poor, deprived girl.” James takes your face in his hands, and you smile despite the slick feeling of his pumpkin-y fingers on your cheeks. His eyebrows scrunch pityingly as he kisses above your nose. “We’ll right that wrong today, sweetheart, don’t you worry.” 
“You haven’t been missing out on much,” Lily says, slipping past the two of you with your photos. She wedges them underneath a magnet on the fridge. “It’s a lot of effort for a snack.” 
“She only says that because she can’t stand the guts,” James tells you conspiratorially. 
“Really?” You mash your hands into the stringy pumpkin bits. “I kind of like them.” 
Lily makes a face. “They’re all slimy and weird. And sticky.” 
“Wimp,” James teases. 
“You’ve just called them guts, James. In what world does that sound appealing?” 
“Angel,” James says in a quiet voice, “you’ll protect me, won’t you?” 
You frown at him. “Why?” 
He picks up a small mass of pumpkin guts and lobs it at your girlfriend. 
“James!”
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luviwon · 5 months ago
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MY PERSONAL STYLIST | y.jw
kinktober day 2! back to the masterlist here!
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☆ stylist!jungwon x model!reader
; jungwon always finds the most fashionable pieces of clothing for you to try out, but when one day he decides to wrap you up in his own hands, well that becomes your new favourite fit.
genre ; smut
taglist ; @blushbunini @moonpri @blackp1nkfan @mitmit01 @pasteltheghost16 @harukayoiiiiiiizzz @mlywon @lhspeachie @seraphira @kaykay11sworld @winuvs @yuniesluv @shhth @rizzki09 @mylettterstoyou @d-dilemma
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“i don’t think that fits well,” you complained loudly, without any sort of shyness. “i want something that screams that girl, you know? something to turn heads when i walk by, something that no one else has”
what a hard life, indeed. you pouted while laying down on the leathered sofa, throwing away the last piece of dress you’ve tried on. unhappy, disappointed and frustrated. these were 3 amazing words to describe the exact way you were feeling. it did, although, make sense, as the [brand name] fashion week was approaching by and all you could do was pray you will find something unique before that.
on the other side, jungwon snorted at your gesture and picked up the delicate dress from the floor, making sure to get rid of any dirt before putting it back on the hanger. it’s been nothing less than 6h since all the wardrobes in the building were emptied out for you to try every single item, but your expectations were somehow higher than the 24th floor you were on.
“look, giving their most recent collection, i believe we need to definitely include denim. it’s basically their signature, we couldn’t not take advantage out of it” the stylist explained in his simplicity while closing the doors of the closet. “what about a denim skirt? that’s both stylish and comfy; although going for a sleeveless denim top would be just as great”
you nodded, having a look around you. there were now low chances to try something new on as you were more than 99% sure you put on everything already. "i shouldn't be doing this," jungwon mumbled under his breath, casting a quick glance over his shoulder as if someone might walk in at any second. your interest piqued immediately, sitting up straighter on the sofa, eyes glued to his every movement. he turned his back to you, walking towards a wardrobe that had a small lock to it. he effortlessly took the keys out from his pants' pocket, following to unlock the mysterious closet.
the soft clink of the lock turning was like music to your ears—something forbidden, exclusive. jungwon swung the door open with a sense of purpose, pulling out a garment that instantly caught the light. a smile tugged at his lips as he walked over, holding up a stunning denim corset.
"now this—this is what you've been waiting for," he said, carefully laying the piece across his arm like a treasure. it wasn’t just any denim. it had the perfect balance of structure and softness, the kind of piece that would mold to your body, hugging your curves in all the right places. the corset was minimal in design but bold in impact, with sharp seams and an impeccable cut that made it scream sophistication. there were no buttons or zippers, just a sleek back, held together by what looked like a barely noticeable magnetic closure.
"oh my god, jungwon," you gasped, practically leaping off the couch to inspect it closer. your fingers itched to touch the fabric, running across the smooth denim that was far softer than you’d expected. "this is perfect. no, more than perfect. this is exactly what i was talking about." he chuckled at your excitement but quickly added, "there’s just one little thing... it’s not out yet."
your head snapped up, eyes wide in disbelief. "wait, what? this is from the new collection?" jungwon nodded, grinning but looking a bit mischievous. "yeah, technically, it’s part of an unreleased line. i’m not supposed to show it to anyone just yet." you blinked at him, utterly floored. "but... you’re showing it to me?"
he shrugged, smirking like this was all part of some grand conspiracy. "i figured, if you’re just wearing it for the fashion week—after the official release—then we can make an exception, right? besides, this is the piece. the one no one else will have."
you could barely contain your excitement. "oh my god, yes! no one else is going to have anything like this!" you practically snatched the corset from his hands, already picturing how it would look paired with just about anything. the versatility of it was unreal—denim, but with an edge that made it feel couture.
“try it on,” he urged, standing back to give you space.
with a grin, you quickly shed your current outfit, slipping into the corset like it was meant for you. as jungwon helped close the back, the magnetic closure clicked seamlessly, feeling almost like magic—no fuss, just an instant fit. you turned to the mirror, barely recognizing yourself in the best way possible. the corset cinched your waist, accentuating your figure in ways that made you feel like a walking masterpiece. your reflection practically screamed that girl, exactly as you had wanted.
“how does it feel?” jungwon asked, watching your reaction closely.
“it feels…” you twirled, taking in every angle. “it feels like i’m going to break every neck at fashion week.”
jungwon smiled, a mix of pride and amusement. "good. that’s what we’re going for."
you couldn’t take your eyes off the mirror, completely mesmerized by your own reflection. the denim corset hugged your body in all the right places, accentuating every curve. the sharp lines of the piece sculpted your silhouette, making you feel powerful, like you were already walking down the runway at fashion week. a smile tugged at your lips, growing wider with every second you spent admiring yourself. you had to admit, jungwon had completely outdone himself with this.
but as you stood there, swimming in the confidence the corset gave you, you found yourself subtly adjusting it. your hands instinctively moved to your chest, pulling the corset up a little each time. it fit your waist perfectly, but around your chest, it felt like it was slipping ever so slightly, not quite sitting the way you wanted it to.
jungwon, who had been silently watching from behind, couldn’t help but admire the way the corset shaped you. the way the denim cupped your waist, accentuating your figure—it was flawless. his gaze trailed over your body, lingering on the soft curve of your hips and the way the fabric contoured to your form. his breath hitched as his eyes moved upward, taking in the way your cleavage was framed by the low-cut neckline. it wasn’t just the fit; it was the way the corset transformed you into something almost untouchable.
"wow," he muttered, voice low, almost like he was speaking more to himself than to you.
you caught his reflection in the mirror, his expression a mix of fascination and appreciation, and your smile widened even more. "you like it?" you asked playfully, even though you could already tell by the look on his face.
"it looks incredible on you," he said, stepping closer. the admiration in his voice was undeniable, and his eyes never left your figure as he moved. "every curve, the way it fits your waist—it’s perfect."
his gaze shifted to the neckline, noticing how you kept adjusting the corset. "except maybe here," he added, gently reaching up to pull the fabric up a bit for you. his fingers brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. "feels like it’s not fitting you quite right up top."
you nodded, looking down at your chest and laughing softly. "yeah, it keeps slipping a little. not the best fit for my, uh, chest."
jungwon tilted his head, his eyes still locked on the way the fabric clung to you. "we could probably make a small adjustment to the top. just enough to keep it secure without losing that sleek look."
he stood directly behind you now, his presence warm and steady as he eyed your reflection in the mirror. his hands hovered near your waist, not quite touching but close enough that you could feel the energy between you. "but honestly," he added, voice dropping, "it’s hard to notice anything wrong when it looks this good on you."
you met his gaze in the mirror, cheeks flushing slightly at his words. there was something about the way he looked at you—like he was seeing more than just an outfit.
your heart fluttered as jungwon's words hung in the air. his gaze, warm and intense, never left your body, and it felt like every second he spent behind you made your skin tingle. you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and before you knew it, you were looking down, trying to steady your breath. your fingers played with the hem of the corset, pulling it up again, even though that wasn’t really the issue.
get it together, you thought to yourself, chewing the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning too wide. it’s a professional relationship. he’s your stylist. this is what he does.
but every time you dared to glance back at the mirror, your resolve cracked just a little more. jungwon was still there, standing close behind you, his eyes lingering on you like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to. and it wasn’t just the way he looked—it was the way he felt standing there, like the air between you was charged with something you couldn’t quite name.
your heart skipped a beat, and despite trying to keep your composure, you couldn’t stop the small smile from creeping back onto your face. god, get a grip, you scolded yourself, but it was impossible not to feel something when his gaze was that intense.
he seemed to realize it too. there was a moment—a brief flicker in his expression—where he caught himself staring. almost like he forgot for a second that this was supposed to be all about fashion. jungwon blinked, then let out a soft, almost embarrassed laugh, quickly brushing his hand through his hair. his fingers tousled his dark strands, and he turned away from you, moving toward one of the racks like he was suddenly very busy.
"so," he began, his tone light and casual, as though he hadn’t just been admiring your every curve moments before. "should we go with shorts or a skirt? i feel like either could work with the corset, but we should go with whatever makes the most impact for fashion week."
you exhaled quietly, feeling the tension ease as he busied himself with the clothes, his back now to you. he was already flipping through hangers, acting like nothing had happened, but you could still feel the lingering energy between you two.
jungwon rummaged through the rack with practiced precision, flipping through various fabrics before his hand landed on something. "ah, here it is," he said, pulling out a sleek skirt with a satisfied grin.
you watched as he held it up for you to see. the material was a smooth, structured twill—something that could perfectly complement the denim without clashing. the fabric had a bit of shine to it, just enough to elevate it beyond casual wear, but what really caught your attention was the unique detail at the waist. there was a thin, adjustable thread running along the top, almost like a drawstring but far more elegant, allowing you to tighten the fit as needed. it added a subtle edge to the skirt’s design, making it feel more versatile and modern.
"this could be perfect," jungwon said, his excitement matching yours. "the material’s got just enough weight to balance the denim, but it won’t overwhelm it. and with this thread detail," he ran a finger along the waist, showing how it worked, "you can adjust it exactly how you want it to fit."
your eyes lit up the moment you saw it. "oh my god, yes. it’s perfect." without even thinking twice, you reached for the skirt, your fingers brushing against his as you took it from him. "i’m trying this on right now."
he stepped back with a grin, giving you space as you slipped out of your pants and into the skirt, the fabric sliding smoothly over your legs. you turned to the mirror again, adjusting the waist with the thread until it sat snugly against your hips. it hugged your body in just the right way—tight where it needed to be but still comfortable, and it gave your whole look a balanced, polished feel.
you couldn’t help but smile, feeling an overwhelming sense of satisfaction as you twirled slightly to see how it moved with you. "what do you think?" you asked, your voice barely hiding your excitement.
jungwon was watching you again, eyes filled with approval as he nodded. "it’s everything. the corset and the skirt—it’s like they were made for each other." his gaze lingered just a moment longer before he added, "and they were definitely made for you."
you looked at your reflection once more, the outfit transforming you into exactly the vision you’d had in your mind since the beginning. "i love it," you said, beaming. "this is it. this is the look."
you couldn’t contain your excitement. the outfit was perfect—beyond perfect, and it made you feel unstoppable. without even thinking, you spun around and practically launched yourself into jungwon's arms. "oh my god, you’re the best!" you squealed, throwing your arms around his neck in a burst of joy.
he barely had time to react before you were in his arms, your body colliding with his in a tight hug. His grip instinctively tightened around you to steady the both of you as he let out a soft, surprised laugh. "whoa, okay, glad you like it!" he said, still smiling, clearly amused by your reaction.
but just as you buried your face into the crook of his neck, something unexpected happened. you felt a soft click behind you. for a split second, you didn’t understand what it was. then, suddenly, you felt the denim corset loosen completely.
your eyes widened in horror as you realized what had happened. the magnetic closure had come undone, and before you could even react, the corset slipped down, hitting the floor. you froze, every muscle in your body stiffening as the air around you seemed to stand still.
"oh my god," you whispered into his chest, your voice muffled and filled with embarrassment as you buried your face deeper, cheeks burning. you wanted to disappear, to melt into the ground and pretend this wasn’t happening. "oh my god, oh my god…"
jungwon’s body tensed at first, clearly just as surprised, but then, almost instinctively, his hands found their way to your waist. the warmth of his palms rested gently against your skin, holding you in place as if to steady you, even though both of you were standing perfectly still. his breath hitched for a moment, but he didn’t say anything.
the two of you just stood there, glued to each other, neither knowing what to do. you could feel his heartbeat against your cheek, a steady rhythm that seemed louder in the silence, while your own heart raced wildly, your face still hidden against his chest.
you let out a shaky breath, unable to move or even think straight, trapped in a whirlwind of embarrassment. "i—i didn’t mean for that to happen," you mumbled against him, voice small and apologetic, barely above a whisper.
jungwon, who had been frozen for what felt like an eternity, finally spoke, his voice low and soft. "it’s okay," he said, his hands still resting on your waist, as if anchoring you both in the moment. "it was the magnet."
you both laughed nervously, a quiet, shared moment of awkwardness but also something else neither of you could quite name.
jungwon's hands still rested gently on your waist, his touch warm and steady, grounding you in a moment that felt anything but. your heart was racing, and you could feel his pulse thudding just as strongly against your cheek. the awkwardness between you grew thick, heavy, as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.
but then, without saying a word, jungwon's hand moved from your waist, gliding up slowly. your breath caught in your throat as his fingers gently tilted your chin upward, coaxing your face away from where you’d buried it against his chest. your eyes reluctantly met his, wide and uncertain, your body instinctively pushing closer to him to keep your chest covered.
his touch was soft, yet there was something deliberate about the way he held your chin, guiding you to look at him. you could feel the heat from his fingers, his thumb grazing the edge of your jawline, and for a moment, the world outside of the two of you didn’t exist. it was just the quiet, the subtle rise and fall of his chest beneath your hands, and the intensity in his eyes as they locked onto yours.
but he couldn’t stop himself. his gaze flickered, almost unwillingly, sliding down from your face, tracing the line of your neck before settling lower. his eyes dipped, just for a heartbeat, to where the corset had fallen away, and though you’d pressed tighter into him, he could still catch the soft curve of your bare skin. his eyes did a slow, unintentional marathon—from your eyes, to your chest, and then back again, as if he was trying to fight it but losing that battle with each passing second.
you felt a shiver run through you, your entire body hyper-aware of his presence, the closeness, the heat between you. his fingers still held your chin, his grip gentle but firm, and the way he looked at you—like he was seeing you in a way he never had before—sent your heart pounding even faster.
"jungwon…" you whispered, your voice barely audible, not even sure what you were asking, or if you were asking anything at all. maybe just for the moment to slow down, or speed up—something. your cheeks burned with embarrassment, your arms still wrapped around his waist, pressing tighter as if that would somehow make everything less exposed, less vulnerable.
jungwon’s gaze was intense, almost overwhelming, and you felt your pulse quicken under the weight of it. his eyes seemed to linger just a moment too long on every part of you, tracing your features with a softness that made your breath hitch. unable to take the intensity any longer, you instinctively turned around, trying to break free from the moment, hoping to gather yourself.
but in your flustered state, you didn’t realize the full gravity of what you’d just done.
the cool air on your bare skin suddenly felt more noticeable, your nipples hardening in an Instant, and before you could react, you were standing there—completely uncovered—facing the massive mirror. your heart skipped a beat, panic flooding through you as it hit you: jungwon was right behind you, already facing the mirror. his eyes had a perfect view of everything reflected back at him.
"oh my god," you gasped, realization crashing over you like a tidal wave.
before you could move, jungwon was already there. his reflexes were quicker than you expected, and without hesitation, his hands shot forward, gently but urgently covering your exposed chest. his palms pressed against your tits, shielding you from both the mirror and himself, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt through you.
the room seemed to freeze for a moment, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating. you could feel jungwon’s breath behind you, shaky and uncertain, his hands resting protectively over you. your pulse raced beneath his fingers, the intimacy of the situation more than either of you had anticipated.
“i knew they would fit just right in my hands” jungwon whispered merely for himself but your ears couldn’t ignore it either. his hands were warming up your chest a lot in that moment, and if before you’d be positive that your nipples are the hardest they could be, well, jungwon decided to prove you wrong and circle his palms around them to make them even rock hard. he couldn’t stop staring at the mirror, at the way your body was glued to his, at the manner in which there was only one obstacle from seeing your beautiful chest and that was his own hands.
you bit your lower lip, resting the back of your head against his chest as he lowered his head to place a wet kiss against your exposed skin. you trembled under his touch as his plumped lips left saliva on your beautiful neck, following to be licked off by his long tongue, going all the way to your ears. and because he couldn’t leave them just like that, he bit your earlobe, still, so gently. his hands continued to tease your nips against his palms, now your shoulder being devoured by his hungry lips, kissing, licking, sucking and nibbling all over.
naturally, one of his arms went lower to unwrap the thread along your skirt, causing it to fall down so carelessly, exposing your simple, pale pink panties, along with a wet stain against them. “do i turn you on, y/n”? jungwon asked, eyes locked on the mirror, pushing his hand lower to cup your pussy completely. he rested it there, using his middle finger to press against your hole, hidden behind the drenched piece of lingerie.
“mhm” you nodded, closing your eyes as arching your back in response, unable to resist to his soft, attentive yet dangerous touch. you pushed your chest up, the lonely left breast showing off its round and perky shape. jungwon smirked at the view of that, turning you around and pressing you against the mirror. the cold touch of the glass gave you a short shiver, followed by another one coming from jungwon, who couldn’t help but get on his knees in front of you.
“as a model, you should control yourself regardless of the circumstances, is that true?” he asked you on a deliberate sarcastic tone, a mischievous smile appearing on his face. he stuck out his tongue, licking his lips like a hungry animal. “let’s see if you can keep your moans to yourself then, sweetheart” he added, just before pulling down your panties, his hot breathe hitting your soaked pussy immediately. you felt your legs getting weaker already, but jungwon made sure to hold you still, his mouth taking a full bite of your dripping wet cunt. if before he presented himself to be the greatest gentleman, now he surely proves the contrary. jungwon aggressively sucked on your clit, using a finger to push inside you unexpectedly.
you whimpered out, loud enough for the whole staircase to hear. “shh” he whispered to you, pushing his finger as high as possible and taking it out to make you desperate. his lips were taking over your folds, giving each of them their own turn, leaving wet kisses and fainted marks. additional to his index finger, another one joined him, pushed hard inside you again, letting another moan out, even louder this time. jungwon smirked, and curled them inside you, making your legs tremble. you clenched around his fingers, his tongue giving your clit now all of his attention.
at this point, you had no more strength to stand still and kept going lower, his fingers deeper inside you. “ride my fingers” he urged you, raising his head to see your face full of pleasure, rolling your eyes back with each movement. he stopped moving his hand now, and waited for you to do your turn. with a small gulp, you pushed you body lower until his finger were all hidden inside you again, biting your lips not to let another sound escape from you. it felt so good you couldn’t raise anymore, legs still shaking in pleasure. that’s when jungwon’s patience went down to 0 and his fingers curled again inside you, this time his thumb rubbing your clit in sync.
“do you like how i finger you, sweetheart? your wet sounds say it all”
his smirk couldn’t leave his face at all, not for a second, nor could his gaze let go of yours. he was obsessed with the way you rolled your eyes back, the way you pushed your chest up and the way your shaking legs couldn’t help you stand still anymore. all of this because of him, because of his hands, his fingers, simply him, his voice, his touch.
“i feel so close” you whined, the words barely coming out of your mouth correctly. but to be fair, how could you say anything right when all you could feel was pleasure? hearing your statement, jungwon stood up and pulled down his jeans along with his boxers, revealing his hardened length. “then cum around my cock” he imposed as he pushed his dick covered in precum inside your cunt. he pressed his hands against the mirror, pumping himself into you. he threw his head back, speeding up his rhythm as your tits jumped up and down.
“j-jungwon” you moaned aloud his name, crying along with it. you did not have a single thought on your mind anymore, all you could feel was jungwon’s cock hitting your g point a million times, until your body couldn’t take it anymore. “jungwon i-“ you started saying, but before you could finish, he was already painting your walls white. you let go of your pleasure and came on his cock, throwing your arms around his neck to find some support.
legs shaking, you were still trying to catch your breathe. completely naked against the dressing room mirror, you felt a shiver down your spine and a moan was shouted out again when jungwon pushed himself inside you one more time. he chuckled, seeing your reaction and lifted you up, walking effortlessly across the room to the leathered sofa. he sat down on it, you still on his lap, his cock still buried inside you.
“round two?”
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