#black butterfly wall painting

[screampied]

‘ ALLLL ON MY TONGUE I WANT IT ★ ?!

𝜗℘ feat. toji, gojo, geto, sukuna, higuruma. how the jjk men eat you out, ‘till the jaw aches

cw. fem! reader, cunnılingus, dirty talk, praise, edging, nose riding, hair pulling ( geto ), slight mommy kink ( choso ), squırting, overstim, p spanking, dumbification, puśsy drunk men, spıt kink, biting, i forgot nanami nuu, sukuna uses his hand mouth.

wc. 4.0k+

☆ SUGURU GETO.

“i’m hungry. spread ‘em,” balmy hot breath fans against the inner parts of your thighs as you sit still. lazily, you lean back against your bed, meeting the feral gaze of a very feral man with dark raven strands running down each sides of his face. there’s an almost pout forming on his lips before he kisses your pretty twitching pussy through your panties.

without hesitation, he ogles as your legs sprawl away from each other. he rests on his stomach, preparing to dig in before you stop him, lightly grabbing him by the hair. “s- sugu,” you breathe, feeling a tingle brew inside of your tummy, mixing along with a fluttering concoction of butterflies. he stares at you with a raised brow before you pull out the sable black hair tie that was secured around his wrist, pinning his hair up into a messy ponytail.

“oh,” he hoarsely hums with a shrug before preparing himself to dig in - licking a long sloppy stripe that forms a sticky wetness against the cottony fabric of your panties. “thank you baby. always so thoughtful.”

geto didn’t have to tell you twice. whenever he came home, he wanted you. whether it was thirst or hunger, the only thing that would clench his thirst and feed him right was that pretty thing between your legs. he’d eat you out for hours, up until his tongue is numb and his jaw is just aching.

“thirsty,” he huffs, and you could hear him swallow every few slurps. your legs were already shaking in dire anticipation. geto’s irregular breaths were gruffly strained—he runs his calloused fingertips against your slick folds before lapping them up with his tongue. “mhm,” dark eyes flicker back toward you and he grabs your wrist that’s dug into his scalp. “pull. harder,” he grunts, instructing you to tighten your grip against his hair. you’d almost forgot it was one of the many kinks he’s told you he’s into. as you gather a good enough feel, you drag his hair by the ponytail, pulling harder and harder until he grunts. a sly smile presses against your pussy before he chuckles. “good girl. better had.”

as he’s shoved face first into your cunt, you notice the shine on his lips were painted a pretty crimson. with his eyes close, lengthy black lashes flap every so often as he’s devouring his favorite meal of the day. of every day.

“sugu, sugu, suguuuu,” you whimper, the sensitivity of the nerves that store inside of your clit making you fail to stay still. he inhales, gathering a decent wad of saliva before spitting right onto your cunt. it’s so nasty, he’s nasty. you watch with wide eyes, feeling yourself twitch even more before he licks it right up with no shame. out of nowhere—you felt yourself blurt out your thoughts you didn’t expect to come from your mouth. at least not so soon. “s- spank it, sugu.”

“spank it sugu,” he mocks your words, rolling his eyes before briefly moving his lips away. “don’t tell me what to do,” and within seconds later, he spanks your cunt anyway. damp droplets of your slick plop onto his palm and he groans. “last time i checked, i don’t take orders from sloppy wet girls so lie back ‘n let me finish eating, yeah?”

“yes, s- suguru,” you pant, the quake within your thighs never subsiding.

there’s another eye roll that comes from geto, and he goes right back to eating you out like a starved man. he doesn’t even need to use his fingers, his tongue was just enough. more than enough actually. orgasm after orgasm, he’s emitting out the most sweetest sounds from you. you’re so loud that it bounces off the walls. he hears the reverb of your voice and it makes him snicker. “louder,” he growls, slurping up a remainder of your saccharine flavored juices. your grip remains in his hair and you bite your lip, preparing to finish yet again. “i wanna hear you. i want the neighbors to hear you. i wanna hear a scream come outta that pretty tight throat.”

and he meant it — your pleasure meant everything to him. with the way he’s sucking, you wouldn’t have lasted a second longer.

the moment you end up reaching your inevitable climax, a potent bawl rips out of your throat raw. he’s munching on your pussy, eyes shut with an innocent smile on his face as if he hadn’t just made you an entire broken mess. “s- suguruuu!”

you’re shaking, panting.

it’s as if every finish was way more powerful than the last one. a breezing squall of wind prises from your full lungs before you fall back. your legs remain spread, mouth formed into a circular shape whilst you’re still making a cute attempt at trying to catch your breath. “c’mere,” a low voice murmurs to you, and he sits up to go toward you. geto’s sweltering body heat radiates against you. he tenderly wraps a hand around your neck before pulling your bottom lip down with his thumb. “open.”

with half lidded eyes, you open, already knowing what’s to come. as you part your plump lips apart, rolling out your tongue, sharp hooded eyes stare down your throat before he leans in and spits right inside. you moan, feeling his free hand toy with your cunt some more, clearly not finished. “uh huh. now, swallow ‘n give me a kiss, sweetheart.”

as his hand squeezes against your pulsating pussy, you whine—swallowing, shutting your heavy eyelids before pulling him into a sloppy wet kiss. beads of sweat from his forehead press against yours before he returns the gesture, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“mhm,” he grunts, now starting to suck on your tongue. it took you a while to realize geto’s eyes were already open, and he was looking straight at you. abruptly, he pulls away and gives your forehead a kiss. “good girl,” but then he makes you lie back, spreading your legs even further.

“but ‘m still thirsty. let’s see if i can make ya squirt this time, pretty.”

☆ HIGURUMA HIROMI.

“dove, you wanna ride my nose, don’t you?”

a low voice coos at you as he’s reclined back against the sofa. he’s sexily manspread, work clothes still on and unkempt — tie pulled off halfway and he hums, watching your abashed expression grow. “it’s okay, i don’t bite. c’mere.”

and with an usher of two swift finger motions, he tells you to come closer. with your panties still on whilst you’re slowly sticking your own arousal between your legs, you prepare to hover over his face.

you pause, parting your knees apart and on each side of his face before huffing. “a- are you sure? i don’t wanna suffocate you, ‘romi.”

“that sounds like heaven, trust me,” he whispers, grabbing ahold of both of your thighs. it was a secure grip. with two broad hands, he outspreads them - gentle thumbs stroking against your sweet, candied skin. “so perfect. so nice ‘n soaked jus’ for me, huh,” and after about a few seconds, you take your seat down on his face. higuruma gruffly grunts, a low guttural moan escaping from his lips before he smooches against your cunt. it’s slick, not only slick but sweetly sweet. “that’s it, dove. ‘s just you ‘n me, don’t be shy. ride it.”

you whine, biting down on your bottom pulled lip as your pussy grinds against the bridge of his nose. the second you ride against it, the feeling sent your entire body into overdrive.

with your lashes fluttering, you feel the bumpy texture of his hooked nose - it’s rough and gnarled—perfect for riding against.

higuruma lowly grunts at seeing the way your hips leisurely pick up its pace.

you were a natural, moving against his face whilst your hands find their way into his hair. his messy, knotted strands was like a maze. your slender digits entangle through his darkened roots, giving them a firm tug before your head tosses back in ecstasy.

“f- fuuuck, hiromi,” and you start to feel his tongue lay itself flat. you’re rubbing your cunt against his slick-spit lips and his nose back and forth.

over and over, you’re already spiraling,

profusely, your legs shake and jitter before you whimper out a desperate wail. “jus’ like that, ‘romi. p- please,” and as you continue to use his face, he’s meeting your eyes. it’s only been seconds and he’s already pussy drunk. a sly smile spreads across his lips before he slides a thumb down the opening of your cunt. “ngh, fuck.”

“yeah, dovey. ride my face—mphm,” and he’s interrupted by your cunt silencing his words. your taste, he just couldn’t get enough. higuruma’s already got a slippery snail trail of your arousal that’s coating his chin. it’s got an almost glow to it, you yank on his strands until his head falls forward. a throaty chuckle comes out of him before he flicks his tongue against your clit. “heh, easy now. my hair’s one of my best features.”

you couldn’t even laugh because pretty soon, you were about to reach your chilling climax. its shivering, frigid and you felt like you were walking on eggshells.

“fuh— fuck,” you clench your jaw, feeling your legs merely collapse right then ‘n there. it was unpredictable, you were an entire full blown mess and his tongue wasn’t making it any better. as you continue to thrash your hips into his greedy mouth, you’re clinging onto his hair tightly. his nose, the bumpy texture continues to rub off against your swollen cunt before it finally comes.

you come,

it comes all at once - an overwhelming bundle of nerves surge straight out of you, electricity pulsing through your veins as you come undone.

you’re sucking your teeth and you don’t even realize it. as you’re slowing down by default, feeling his lips steadily suck against your tender slick folds, he purrs.

“oh, my love,” he breaks away for a moment to breathe, warm breath titillate against your twitching heat. “made quite a mess out of me, huh,” and with a thumb, he rubs against your pulsating clit, giving the nub one final kiss. “such a good girl. my good girl.”

☆ CHOSO KAMO.

“baby? c .. can we try this?” and you have a sheepish grin once choso’s showing you a video of a woman getting ate out. however, he’s imagining it’s you the entire time, feeling his mouth water at the pure thought of tasting your sweet cunt for the first time. it’s lewd, probably too lewd for him but he just couldn’t help it.

“sure, ‘cho,” you give him a soft smile. even your smile alone was enough to get him hard.

and it did.

with choso though, despite being over hundreds of years old, he was inexperienced but he was also a very quick learner. he tried to remember the video, the tongue work, how the man made the woman feel. but the second he’s diving into your cunt face first, there’s no prying him off.

you’re laid flat on your back whilst he’s right between your thighs, using a single thumb to trace down alongside your curves. he makes sure to pay attention to every part of your body at least he tries to. heart eyes blow its way into his pupils, dilating as he admires your pretty frame. “y- you’re so pretty, baby,” his voice was so soft and gruff. it almost sounds like a whisper.

not even seconds go by and he’s already drooling right before your pussy. a shimmery coat of saliva pours down the inner cracks of his lips as he gets a view of his meal. god, he couldn’t wait. every few seconds, he’d pull away to coat your slit with a multitude of amorous, sweet kisses. once you wrap your thighs around his face, he’s slurping anything and everything out of you.

you could barely stay still, going into a state of shock of pure pleasure. choso’s tongue was long, he makes it extend all inside of you, not missing a single spot. it curves its way through the inner parts of your cunt, taking time to swallow your taste and moan at the flavor that now lives on his tongue. your flavor. it doesn’t take him long to reach your sweet spot - because once you release that cute squeal, he sucks against it even harder.

“w- wanna make my princess feel good,” he murmurs, already drowning in your slick. your pussy was sopping wet, coating his chin with such ease. every once and a while, he flicks his tongue against his chin, relishing in your taste. “fuuuck,” he whines, feeling a cute tug of your hand drag his ponytail against your cunt. “use my ponytails like handle bars baby, ‘s okay— mmm.”

like a good boy, he slurps you clean, pressing a hand gently on your tummy, brushing a thumb against your navel as he’s happily luxuriating in your taste. “c- chosooo,” you mewl, feeling the intense shake of your legs arise.

it’s like a wave, everything’s preparing to crash down all at once. with the way you sung his name, it sounded like a harmony, a symphony.

his pointed ears twitch at the sound of your voice, the way your hips thrust into his mouth makes him drool for more.

already . . you’re stupefied. he’s drunk from your pussy and you’re drunk from his tongue. “ugh, jus’ like that, baby. you’re doing so good, making me feel so good.”

“i- i am?” his face cutely lights up. choso gives your cunt soft licks, delving his tongue in and out, exploring every depth. choso’s head moves side to side in a quick motion. it’s attractive, he’s already sweating and strands of black hair stuck against his forehead like glue. choso was a sucker for praise, especially whenever it came from you.

he can’t help but creep a hand down between his legs as he lies on his stomach, touching himself. he groans against your pussy, feeling your hips stutter from his erotic tongue work.

“y- yes,” you whimper, grabbing ahold of both of his soft dark ponytails. his eyes lock onto yours and he’s entirely pussy drunk—droopy eyes and that sheepish little grin. he looked so pretty, but the moment he stares down, choso knew that your sweet cunt was even prettier. as he’s lapping up your honeyed taste, slurping against your folds, you rub him against your soaked entrance with a more hastily tempo. “so good, choso. m- make me feel so good all the time.”

“i- i do?” he whimpers, moaning from your taste. he’s trying not to rush, he wants to savor the flavor of your cunt. your praises, it was enough to make him make a mess in his pants.

so much so to where he can’t help but reach down to touch himself. reach down into his obsidian black boxers, stroking his flaccid veiny cock. with choso, he gets off to you, your pleasure was always his pleasure. once he sees you nod, he lowly moans again against your cunt, quickening his tongue work and pace. “i- i do,” he repeats, kissing your folds again, and again, until you end up cumming on his tongue.

hard, it comes quick. it had your mind going for a loop — you couldn’t think nor could you register anything out of your little empty brain. you feel a hard pressure pressing against your abdomen, a pool of heat ghosting on your body and you get euphoric tingles. right away, your legs give out as he’s still dug between them, flopping back and landing with a cute oof. choso’s lower part of his chin was soaked and he loved it. he slides your panties back toward the center before having a soft pout. “are you okay? w- was i like the video?”

with a soft exhale leaving your windpipe—you huff, cupping his face. “even better,” and you lean down to kiss him. he moans into your lips, leaning into your gentle touch, sitting up to press his body against yours. swiftly, your tongue licks against his upper lip, tasting your taste that was lingering on his tongue - it’s sweet. choso could feel his heart racing, and you gasp once he slowly trails a hand down between your thighs. as he’s on top of you, he gives your cunt a gentle feel before licking a needy stripe up your neck. “c.. choso, you want more?”

“yeah,” he whines with a subtle nod, and he doesn’t even realize that he’s humping against your leg. “please— pleaseplease, take care of me now m- mommy?”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURO.

“nuh uh, no ya don’t. get the fuck back here,” and a small squeak leaves your throat as he’s dragging you back by the hips. clumps of creamy cum stick against the fat of your thighs - it’s spilling, oozing out and he licks his lips at the sight.

you moan from his touch, feeling his hand caress against your curves. “bend f'r me, yeah,” he whispers hoarsely, witnessing the limp arch your body submits. “atta girl,” he coos roughly, bringing his face directly up close to your ass. “what a fuckin’ mess,” he smacks his fat angry tip against your needy slit. kissing his teeth, toji grunts. “really milked the shit outta me, babygirl.”

indeed you did - as he drags a thumb down the swollen bulb of your clit, he stares at the excess cum that pours out of your hole.

“ngh,” you whimper, feeling his toasty warm breath tickle against your wet folds. the second you feel toji’s tongue lap against your entrance, your thighs only grow weaker. you were already so sensitive from before, and the moment his tongue licks against your pussy — you were over. toji’s nasty, smearing his face all over your drooling cunt with the most cockiest grin on his face. the curving slant of his scar brushes against your folds and your toes curl at the rough texture. “tooojiiii,” you gasp out a sweet elongated hum, slapping a hand over your mouth.

“such a fuckin’ messy girl, huhhh,” he quips, flattening his tongue to slurp you full. your legs shiver as your eyes start to roll back, feeling his thumb tantalizingly plug its way against your puckering hole. “messy baby, gotta fuck you ‘n clean you right up,” and his breath against your cunt only makes you twitch more. you moan over and over until your voice was a broke record.

it feels peculiarly cool, a frigid slick coats against your folds as he latches his lips. you whimper, muffled moans clashing against the soft surface of your palm before he playfully bites your pussy.

“such a crybaby, maybe i should stop hm? ‘s it too much? thought you were a big girl.”

“n- no, please,” you choke out a weak sob, the pleasure practically giving you whiplash. your ass swerves against his face briefly, making an attempt to rut your rear against his face. “i am your big girl—don’t stop, ‘toj. ‘m gonna cum, hngh.”

with a scoff, he continues to swipe his tongue across - flicks turning into sloppy, sultry sucks.

it’s to the point where he’s practically just making out with your pussy, tongue kissing and giving it solid french kisses. sloshing sounds of your wet pussy rings against his sensitive ears before he inserts a single thick digit. with gracious ease, you clamp around his finger and you let off a breathless moan.

“c’monnn, give it to me. all on my fuckin’ tongue, girl,” and as he’s sucking you clean, you heave, feeling the plush of your tummy cave in in rapture. once he gives your cunt a rude abrupt spank with his free hand, you let off a cute whine. he tchs, narrowing his jade blown irises at you. “fuckin’ slut. get turned on from jus’ about anything, huh,” and your thighs jiggle with recoil. your shrilling babbles only pitch and grow louder before he’s nibbling harder against your pulsating nub. you huff, digging the edges of your teeth into your flesh. already, you’re dumb and it’s moments until you cum right on his tongue. “mhm.”

as you blissfully succumb to your teeth shattering release, your chest slumps into the mattress and you’re left stupid - entirely stupid.

your tongue was lolled out and your eyes flickered back to the very depths of your craniums “fuck, fuck, fuuuuck, toji,” you slur your words on melodic loop, chewing on each individual syllable. as you collapse, you feel yourself dampen between the crevices of your thighs.

“allllll clean,” he snickers, giving you pussy another smack. you whine, feeling your cunt all tender and sensitive. toji pries his lips off, licking them clean before dragging his thumb across his scar. it was wet, his stubble was drenched, and toji leans in to give your filthy folds one final suck. you’re too stunned to speak, trying to wriggle your ass away from his mouth but he drags you right back again. “not so fast, baby. ‘m not done,” and before he flips you over on your tummy, he spanks your ass just to see the little jiggle. “but since y’er a good girl, i think you can give me one more, right?”

“well—”

you’re interrupted with a mean slap to your pussy.

“that’s enough talkin’ baby. ‘s time y’er pussy gets the mic,” and the dark haired man gives your folds a soft, loving kiss. in a low, hoarse whisper, he hums, staring straight at your twitching entrance. “ain’t that right, princess? uh huh, thought so.”

☆ SATORU GOJO.

makes you squirt for the first time and immediately gets addicted to it.

“heh, angel if i had a dollar for every time you squirted f'me today, i’d be rich— well, technically i am rich,”

and of course with gojo, not only is he a good eater but he’s a fucking blabbermouth.

he’d literally talk your ear off while you’re riding his face. white thin strands of hair nearly occlude his view of vision. as he’s lying flat on his back, he needs to take a few seconds to dig his hand through his hair, combing the strands back in place. your legs tremor with desirable euphoria.

as you shifted your weight against him — his chiseled jaw all shiny and glistening with your arousal, he simpers as you prepare to speak. “s- shut up, ‘toru,” you repeat yourself for the nth time, eager for him to start up again. his tongue had you craving for more. this was his favorite view of you, without a doubt. just straddling his face, rocking your rickety hips back and forth until you gush out again. sucking in a long breath of air, you bury your shivery fingers into his smooth snowy-rich scalp. “ngh, talk so fuckin’ much just finish.”

“ugh, well excuse me,” he rolls his eyes, pretending to be offended. the white haired male used a single thumb to pry your legs open before he rolls out his long tongue. it’s clean, a pretty pink tongue that’s already watering at the tip. drip after drip. your breath hitches at the sight, he’s hungry for more and so were you. “let’s try with my fingers this time, pretty girl. think we can do that?”

you nod, inching a hand down to touch yourself but with quick reflexes - he grabs your hand only to then spank your pussy, earning a cute yelp from you. “ah ah. words, i was speaking to you, not your pussy, dummy.”

“y- yes,” you hiss, feeling the stutter in your waist accelerate. if it wasn’t for gojo’s hand gripping against your left hip, you’d have surely collapse onto him. “i can take your fingers, ‘toru.”

“fuck yeah you can,” he purrs - hot breath going right up against your slick folds. you whimper, watching with hazy doe eyes as he starts up again. gojo feels your cunt sporadically twitch in his mouth and he groans. he creates a swirl with the tip of his tongue before slowly inserting one finger. one eventually turns into two and the stretch, your legs were on its last final final hinges. you moan at the thickness of his digits curling all around your soaked gripping walls, swabbing up a nice amount of your slick slippery sweet. “yeah, listen to her. she’s got so much to say unlike you.” and his pristine azul eyes were staring straight at your cunt, not you. the wet wet squelches from your own slobbering folds makes your hips jerk forward quicker.

as he’s vigorously plunging two fingers in and out, his tongue continuing to slurp you clean. you whine, tugging on his hair, holding onto it tight for support. a hand claws into his silky strands before you hear the sloppy sluuuurps that slither out of his annoying mouth.

“sa— fuck, satoru,” you sob out, gasping once the tips of his digits locate your g-spot with such ease. he was so quick, his fingers knew exactly what to do. mimicking a bowling ball grip, he fucks his fingers into your swollen cunt, still latching his lips onto your pussy. “ngh, ‘toru. i just finished. satoruuuu.”

“babyyyy,” he mocks your moan in a faux manner, fully exaggerating the way you sounded. you rode his face at a more steady yet faster tempo, already feeling yourself about to collapse.

the stimulation had you floating on an incredible high. white thin brows of his arch into a furrow as he’s melting in your cunt, laying his tongue flat before overzealously sucking against your clit.

“mhm, that’s it. make another mess. awh. don’t be shy, ‘toru’s gonna clean—mmph,” he pauses with a grunt, giving you a half glare as you yank his hair forward. his smug grin returns and he briskly pistons his fingers further into your gummy walls. “as i was saying, ‘toru’s gonna clean you right up. always liked the mess.”

you’re spasming — the only thing you could see was a multitude of bright colors. as your jaw drops right on lewd cue, dangling goofily, you felt a gush of pleasure ripple out of you again. your thighs practically stuck together, the numbness adding its own kind of gripping sting before he quickly snatched his soaked fingers out. now, you’re just a drooling babbling puddle—with huffed breaths, you glance down at gojo who’s got the biggest grin.

as he’s lapping up your mess, you feel the tip of his nose swipe its way against your folds. he couldn’t help but smell you, your heat. you were so hot, in more ways than one. cerulean blue eyes meet yours one more time before he snickers, a tiny pout curling against his lips.

“oh, baby. are you cryin’?”

☆ SUKUNA RYŌMEN.

“no, go on. finish touchin’ her,”

hoarse low words embarrassingly creates a pulse between your thighs. as you stare at sukuna, not only are you knuckles deep into your swollen pussy but you’re also caught red handed.

curses, you knew full well how sukuna wasn’t fond of you touching what’s his. to him, you were his and that included your precious cunt. crimson red eyes bore into you as you slouch back, continuing to pump your sloppy drenched digits in and out. “keh. the audacity.”

you felt a burning heat settle against your skin, its feverish. you take a minute to swallow, a slimy coat coating the entirety of your fingers before you whine.

“kuna,” and he sucks his teeth - staring at you play with yourself right in front of him. with two hands, he spreads your legs, not wanting you to hide anything else. his touch send a feverish thrill up your spine and you gasp once he lightly smacks your hand away. “p— pleas-”

“quiet, woman,” he grouses, using the fat of his thumb to spread your quivering cunt lips apart further. he gets a full face view of how soaked you were. as you remain sat against a fluffed pillow, you gulp at the sight of the demon - licking his lips, forked tongue baring out a single fang the more his mouth stretches opens. within a second, he lolls out his long tongue before getting a sweet taste of your soppy pussy. you whimper, the texture of his pink muscle makes you shiver. “mhm,” he grunts, the low vibrations tickling against you.

but you start to feel an extra tongue glide against your soddened folds. voluntarily, your back arches and you heard a loud slurp before meeting the view of one of his broad hands.

you remember sukuna telling you how he had tongues on … certain other places of his body.

he’s told you about his stomach but never his hands. “s- sukuna,” you whimper, the texture feeling frigidly cold. it tickles at first, his clammy hand smearing back and forth against your cunt. “fuck, fuuuuck,” and your head leans back, all types of emotions foiling at your brain. and your irises slowly became docile. both slippery tongues were forked, long, and slimy. you shudder the entire time, gasping in long exaggerated breaths as your thighs try to stick together from the growing heat. “gonna cum, ‘kuna. ‘m not gonna last.”

“yes you are,” he snarls in correction, the mixture of two fat tongues diverting against your clit sends you pangs of obscene rapture.

he hums in amusement at the sight of your back and how it effortlessly arches for him and only him. another one of his hands creeps between your legs, plucking them open some more. his words were dangerously husky, they stirred something inside the empty depths of your tummy, making you pulse. speaking of, he feels the crazed pulse throb against each tongue, and his slurps become more carnal. “my, what a sloppy cunt. the audacity to be touchin’ her though is beyond me, little one,” and you could hear the possessiveness lingering off his tongue.

within each slurp, suck, and suckle—you just knew it was impossible to last. the stimulation of both concluding muscles against your folds makes you go further and further toward the edge. you’re so close that you could almost taste it on the tip of your tongue. sugary sweet with a sprinkle of saltiness. “sukunaaa,” you whimper, too weak to even pull at his hair.

you were at his very mercy - one of his favorite things in the world. the way you’d murmur out his name in that sweet pathetic voice, a desperate cry for more.

but alas, your words would always fall on deaf ears. he’d edge you ‘till the end, until you’re begging. with your legs feeling like practical mush, your jaw tightens before he finally lets you finish on both jarring tongues. “you’re so dramatic,” he grouses with a scowl, allowing you to conclude at your climax, heaving large breaths every few seconds. even though it was just minutes, with sukuna, he made anything seem like orgasmic long hours. “good girl, thaaaat’s it.”

and he moves his mouth away, allowing his hand tongue to do the remainder of the cleaning. the sensation was unlike anything you’ve felt before. you whimper, achy pipes in your throat all scratchy and hoarse from how vocal you were just a few moments ago. the tongue that rests against his palm sucks you clean—it’s more tender and gentle and you’re a stammering mess, secretly adapting to the strange yet pleasurable feeling..

you’re still trying to recollect breaths, invisible glue sticks and glosses between your legs before you glance up at sukuna who’s got a sly smile. “w- what’s with the look?”

“oh, nothing,” the demon retorts wittily, leaning up to press a soft kiss against your neck. his touch made you shiver and you wrap your arms around him almost instantly.

his cologne as always, was loud and made its name known across the entire room. leaning up against your ear, he licks it - which turns into seductive nibbles before he whispers. “i was just thinking. i think you’d prefer my stomach tongue a lot more, princess. i promise i’ll try not to swallow ya, heh.”

[hrefna-the-raven]

Stay with me?

Masterlist - Horror masterlist - Misc.

Art the Clown x female reader

Warnings: smut (18+)

Summary: As his eyes fell upon your slouched figure on the red bench, rolling your eyes in boredom at whatever your friend was prattling on about, Art realised he had either made a grave mistake or stumbled upon something incredibly right.

Notes: don't worry, the toilet seat is closed, no Art "art" in this oneshot 😂

Reader: female reader, female genitals, no pronouns except you

Art continued to blink in disbelief, his body frozen mid-movement. This was not the usual scenario he found himself in, and his mind struggled to grasp the reality of being pinned down on the toilet seat of the small pizza place, with you straddling him.

It was always the same, he'd pick a girl, or two, obviously flirt with her, she'd be crept out, run, scream and then he'd butcher her, slowly, make a funny spectacle out of it and call it a day. The perfect plan for an evening's twisted entertainment. But tonight was different. As his eyes fell upon your slouched figure on the red bench, rolling your eyes in boredom at whatever your friend was prattling on about, Art realised he had either made a grave mistake or stumbled upon something incredibly right. In that very moment, when your gaze met his for the first time, an inexplicable and unfamiliar pressure gripped his chest—a warning and an irresistible urge all at once. Before he knew what happened, his body found its way to the seat on the opposite side of you and your friends. He rested his elbows on the table, placing his chin in his folded hands, while a wide smile adorned his black painted lips, revealing his decaying teeth. Little did Art know that the first flutter of butterflies had already emerged within you when you spotted him outside the quaint restaurant. Otherwise, there wouldn't have been this genuine surprise that washed over his twisted mind when he spotted your charming smile directed at him. His hands fumbled on the tiny ring on your finger, as if they couldn't believe you had actually accepted it and that, in return, you gifted him a tight warm hug.

Art's head fell back against the cold tiles, his mouth gaping in a silent moan, eyes wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling when you sunk down on him. The way your wet cunt swallowed him completely, your greedy walls clenching around his throbbing length, it would classify perfectly under "exquisitely divine" or at least whatever someone as rotten as Art might deem as such. He was a creature of many pleasures, ranging from the bloodiest to the most macabre. However, this was novel to him, prompting his mind to consider adding this sensual discovery to his usual repertoire of amusements. His gloved hands shifted to your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh, guiding your movements and urging you to quicken the pace. Art took a deep quivering breath, teetering on the precipice of that sweet release that beckoned him to surrender but instead he tried to focus on his surroundings. The soft fabric of his costume pulled around his feet brushing against his skin with each movement, the hum of the flickering light above casting dancing shadows upon the cabin walls around the two of you while the luscious melody of your moans cradled his rotten heart.

Fingertips gently grasped his chin, guiding his head downwards to meet your gaze once more. Sinful delight danced across your face as you whispered his name in a seductive murmur. A fierce fire blazed in your eyes as they locked with his and he suddenly felt like burning away underneath your gentle touch. Art's body tensed for a moment before finally tumbling into the abyss of the pleasure you had unveiled before him. Countless images flooded his mind, filling every crevice of his thoughts as he came undone. You followed soon after, your lips crashing on his in a passionate kiss. As you pulled away, a blissful expression adorned the beauty of your face and your hazy eyes stared into his distorted soul, a firework exploded throughout Art's entire body. The others in the restaurant felt as far as the faint murmurs behind that closed door and in this moment, only you existed. You became the new center of his universe, his beloved muse whose every touch and sound granted him visions of a world painted in blood. He had to keep you, all to himself and, somehow, it felt only natural to him, as if this decision had been engraved in stone since the beginnings of Hell. Art tilted his head slightly, observing with curiosity as you climbed off him and cleaned both of you up. You took an exaggerated bow and held your hand out with a mischievous grin as if you invited him to take it and stand up. He gladly accepted, lifting himself up and kissing the back of your hand with a wide smile before pulling up his costume. He mimicked a sigh, shaking his head while a genuine happy smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It became undeniable how it delighted him that you had chosen to join in the pantomime from the moment you realised he wouldn't communicate in any other way. The gleeful joy and that hint of a mischievous sparkle in your eyes proved that you were more than willing to play his fun little games with him.

Art led you to the mirror, exhaling onto it before he hastily scribbled something in the mist on its surface.

Will you come and stay with me? 🤍

You nodded and chuckled, playfully tapping his shoulder.

"Did you really believe I'd let someone as delicious as you leave again?"

He feigned a thoughtful expression before shaking his head. His fingers entwined with yours and he guided you out. Both of you walked past your friend, out of the pizza place, disappearing into the dark of the night.

Feel free to reblog if you enjoyed the story 😊

[st0n3rbroski]

Andre Kriegman mood board

I’m so upset I have to retype these fucking headcannons I hate tumblr I’m typing them in notes app first

* Andre is a huge homophobe towards himself but not very much so to other kids

* When he is homophobic to others it’s very casual and rarely if ever gets violent

* Andre self harms by biting his shoulders and biceps till the bleed

* He hides his self harm from everyone, even Cal

* Bite marks were found on his autopsy report

* He has a strange obsession with knives

* Collects knives and throws them at his wall or will draw a red dot to do target practice

* Andre is a whiz with butterfly knife spinning

* Has to constantly patch his walls and keeps spackle caulk paint and patches of drywall under his bed

* He breaks his wall from the knife throwing, rough fights with Cal, and angry fists colliding with drywall

* He likes Black Forest cherry cake

* Hates whiskey but claims to love it

* Will never admit he loves fruity drinks like Malibu

* Plays GTA and constantly rage quits

* Thinks he’d like to bottom but the one time he and Cal did anything he was top because he’s too scared to be anything but a strong man

* Calls people out for shit he does constantly

* Huge hypocrite

* Has Minecraft boxers he shares with Cal

* Loves to suck dick idk I’m done

[alwaysurvalentine]

scary movie marathon - st fic

Written for Day 27 of @steddie-spooktober prompt: scary movies - wc: 1.6k - cw: some cussing

enjoy! 💛

Steve’s idea of a great date night? Scary movie marathon. If you pick the right movies, your date will hide their face in your shoulder and you have an excuse to hold onto them for the duration. If you’re lucky, you might even get them in your lap where you can provide some distraction.

At least, this is how things typically worked when Steve went on dates with the girls of Hawkins High. He should’ve expected that, like most things with Eddie, that wouldn’t be the case with the other boy. When he’d first suggested the movie night, Eddie had assumed it was a group thing and started talking to Robin about what movies she was going to bring. Luckily, Robin can read Steve’s mind, and also his rapid signaling behind Eddie, so she made up an excuse on why she was busy that night. Eddie had shrugged and turned to Steve with a smirk that sent butterflies straight to Steve’s stomach. 

~

The night had come faster than Steve expected and he eyed the movies in his front seat warily when he pulled up to Eddie’s trailer. He knew the other boy would probably like anything they watched, a huge fan of any and all horror no matter how bad. But Eddie also had a habit about seeing Steve more than other people. What if he realized something about him that Steve didn’t mean to reveal? What if he thought the movies he chose were dumb? Or too mainstream to be considered bad enough to loop back to good? This was a terrible idea. Steve’s hand rested on his gear shift, ready to put it in reverse and call Eddie with a fake illness cover story when the boy in question stepped out of the trailer and waved. 

Steve had just gotten used to the black jeans and leather jacket Eddie normally wore, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the cropped Black Sabbath shirt displaying the underneath of Eddie’s chest all the way to his navel. The sunset painted the scars adorning his stomach into a soft pink, like a gentle swoop of a paint brush. Steve’s own matching scars never looked so soft, instead red and angry any time he caught a glance of them in the mirror. Eddie’s grin sharpened as he approached Steve’s car, brown eyes alight with something when he cracked open Steve’s door.

“Cat got your tongue there, Stevie?” 

If blinks were audible, Steve knows his would’ve been deafening. “Whatever Eddie, hope you’re ready to be scared.” He didn’t dare to look at Eddie when he grabbed the movies, scared the older boy would know what he was thinking. 

“Ha! Me, scared? I’m a connoisseur of horror, a weaver of terrible tales, it takes a lot to scare the likes of me!” A cartoonish evil laugh erupted from Eddie as he walked forward, sliding his slippers off at the front door. The trailer felt just as welcoming as it had done all the times before, but now there were orange string lights covering the wall behind the TV and it smelled distinctly of popcorn.

In seemed in the time it had taken Steve to go home and change, Eddie had set up a full array of snacks for them. Popcorn in one bowl, M&Ms in another, even a bag of red vines sat to the side. “I, uh, wasn’t sure what you’d want to drink. We have coke and beer.” Eddie cringes at his words, though Steve can’t imagine why, and he’s already heading to the kitchen.

“I’ll just have what you’re having.” The fridge door opens and Steve sets his movies on the table, eyes catching on the starting menu for The Fly. Eddie comes back with two opened beers, passing Steve’s over by the neck before taking a quick swig of his own. 

“Okay, so we’re starting with one of the best horror movies ever.” 

~

“What the fuck?! Eddie, what the fuck?” Steve can’t look at the screen anymore, the transformation from man to fly sending his stomach into a riot. He’s tucked his face behind his hands and leaned towards Eddie like that’ll save him from the screen. Which is when he notices Eddie’s got an arm around his shoulders and he can feel him laughing against him. How did he not realize Eddie using his own moves against him?

“I know. It’s fucked up isn’t it? And the special effects are so good!” Eddie almost sounds excited, which would be nice if Steve couldn’t hear the sound of Jeff Goldblum’s character losing the last of his humanity. He gags and covers his ears instead, leaning fully into Eddie and turning his head towards the cologne he can smell on Eddie’s neck instead of the screen. 

“It’s disgusting is what it is.” Steve’s breath ghosts over Eddie’s collarbone and he swears he can see the moment Eddie’s heart starts beating faster. Interesting. He’s hopeful so Steve leans closer and feels Eddie’s arm tighten incrementally around him. 

“Steve?” He nods against the metalhead’s neck, newly focused on figuring out just what the older boy smells like under the cigarette smoke that follows him around. “Can I say something crazy?” Eddie’s tense as he talks, arm slipping from Steve’s shoulders so he can reach for the remote. “I mean, maybe it’s not crazy compared to you know, the entire Upside Down and like the last four years of your life. But it’s a big deal to me. Robin said you were fine with her, and clearly you are because she’s like your whole soulmate. Platonic, I know.” 

All of the air is stuck in Steve’s lungs, making his chest tight and he’s just waiting for the pit in his stomach to swallow him whole. He’s opened his mouth to speak a couple of times but nothing is coming out – Eddie’s drowning in a sea of insecurities and he’s doing nothing to help. 

“Okay. I’m just going to spit it out. I’m gay and I have the biggest crush on you.” 

I have the biggest crush on you.

Steve can breathe again. His cheeks are hot and he knows if he looked in a mirror they’d be bright pink. 

“Can I kiss you?”

It’s quiet enough in the trailer that Steve can hear when Eddie chokes on his inhale. 

“..what?” Eddie’s shoulders aren’t tense anymore, and he tilts his head at Steve with furrowed brows. He almost looks like a puppy. 

“Sorry, yeah, totally cool with the gay thing. Even more on board with the crush thing, so can I kiss you?” 

Eddie’s still just looking at Steve with wide, brown eyes. 

Alright, that’s fine, Steve can close the distance. Steve leans forward slowly and brushes the curls away from Eddie’s face, watches his eyes go wide with wonder before leaning in. Their noses bump when their lips first meet but then Eddie tilts his head and Steve’s world with it. Eddie’s hands come up to cup Steve’s jaw, cold rings sending sparks along his face and Steve smiles into the kiss. They part for a moment, matching grins on their faces. After a beat, Eddie leans in again and Steve shifts closer on the couch. 

As soon as he starts shifting, Eddie’s hands start tugging him closer until Steve’s straddling the older boy’s black jean clad lap. Steve boxes him in easily, resting slightly on Eddie’s lap to change the angle again. Eddie nips at his lip, gaining full access to his mouth when Steve gasps at the sensation. The sounds of the movie have completely faded now, Steve more focused on the soft smacking of their lips when they disconnect and meet again. 

The need for air causes them to part, but Eddie doesn’t go far, tucking his face into Steve’s neck. If it wasn’t for how warm Steve was already feeling, he might’ve been able to feel the warmth from the blush on Eddie’s face. Instead he feels Eddie’s lips against his skin as the metalhead murmurs. “Holy shit. Holy shit. Am I dreaming right now?”

“Not a dream, baby. If it wasn’t obvious, I have a huge crush on you too.”

Eddie leans more into Steve’s neck, placing a kiss at his pulse point. A couple more kisses are placed on Steve’s neck and he feels himself melt into Eddie’s lap. He feels Eddie’s hands clench slightly at the movement and then they slip under his shirt, fingertips pressing gently at Steve’s lower back and hips. A gasp escapes him when Eddie nibbles at his neck, teeth pulling at the skin in a way that Steve knows will leave a mark. 

For a moment he imagines the older boy leaving different marks on him and lending him his signature leather jacket for everyone knows who Steve belongs to. But Steve’s getting ahead of himself, this is only their first kiss. There’s no guarantee that Eddie wants this to be a serious thing. 

“Sweetheart?” When Steve glances down, Eddie’s pupils are still blown slightly even though his eyebrows are scrunched in confusion. “Did you hear me?” He must see his answer in Steve’s eyes because the confusion leaves and Steve’s looking at the softest expression he thinks he’s ever seen. 

“I asked if you wanted to be my boyfriend?” There’s an edge to Eddie’s voice and his hands tighten for a moment before loosening again. As though he’s worried about Steve’s answer, like Steve’s not already on the precipice of falling in love with he boy in front of him.

“Only if you let me take you on an official date.” All of the tension leaves Eddie and he grins, leaning up towards Steve again.

“I think I can agree with that.” 

And what else is Steve supposed to do but lean in for another kiss?

[arts-bloody-rose]

Blood of A Rose - Part 4 (Art the Clown x Fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Summary - (Y/n) begins to notice Art suddenly growing more distant and she spirals into insecurity and concern. He reassures her and opens up about what has been occurring, but the events to follow will forever change the course of their lives together.

Notes - Y’all it’s here!! Definitely finished sooner than I thought, crazy what motivation does to someone lol. This is probably my favorite of all of the works I’ve done for Art and I’m so excited to bring you all on this journey! Without further ado, enjoy the show.

Word Count - 7,287

Warning(s): Blood/gore, violence, insecurity, smut, self-harm, suicide/sacrifice (don’t worry)

Song Inspiration -

ZAND - I Spit On Your Grave

Lewis Blisset - Killing Butterflies

(Y/n) entered the work room with a heavy sigh, tearing the fresh newspaper before tossing it into the trash. Art waved at her half-heartedly from where he worked at his bench, not bothering to face her as he focused. 

She set down a small cardboard box on her stool and looked around for a moment. 

“Can I use that knife for a moment?” She asked the clown casually. Art gave her a suspicious side-eye before reluctantly passing her a steak knife. “Thank you.” 

She cut at the tape, opening her new shipment of paint before handing the knife back to him and unpacking the box. 

“Anything crazy happen when I was gone?” She asked, but then quickly answered for him before he could even comprehend the question. “No? Good.” 

Art stared at her in disbelief, expressing a blatant what the fuck as he squinted. He watched as (Y/n) tossed away the box and sighed again as she hung her camera around her neck, his signal to get up. 

The clown put his hands on his hips and gave her a stern look. Her gaze softened and she gave him a gentle smile. 

“I’m okay, I’m just in a bit of a mood.” She stood on the tips of her toes and kissed his cheek, Art simply poking the tip of her nose with an approving nod before grabbing his bag. 

“Man or woman tonight?” (Y/n) questioned as she played with the ruffled fabric at the bottom of his sleeve, eyes focused on the sidewalk they followed. “Or both?” She added and Art pointed at her with a mischievous grin, agreeing. “We should find a couple, but that might be harder to find. Could always just get a man and woman separately and -“ 

Art slapped his free hand over her mouth and they froze, (Y/n) looking up at him expectedly. 

Voices were heard speaking casually in the distance and she followed his gaze, coincidentally spotting a couple walking out of a restaurant. Art grinned mischievously and removed his hand from her mouth, the two of them sharing an eager expression, then simultaneously looking back at the couple before stalking forward. 

Art disappeared into an alleyway while (Y/n) continued to follow the couple from behind them. 

“Excuse me?” She innocently caught their attention. They turned to see her, the man more skeptical while the woman was more concerned. “My friend just collapsed, I think she blacked out, but I’m not sure and I don’t know what to do.” (Y/n) panicked, fidgeting with her hands. 

“Sure thing hun, where is she?” The woman politely pressed further. 

“She’s just over here.” (Y/n) motioned to the alleyway not far from them. The woman stepped forward to follow her, the man hesitating before shaking his head and following reluctantly. 

As they turned into the alleyway, (Y/n) slowed to stand behind them as they wandered further, looking into the seemingly empty space. The woman turned to question (Y/n) when a loud thud sounded as a plank rammed against her head, sending her into the brick wall. 

The man shouted as he watched her fall, his gaze then trailing to trace the figure of the monochromatic clown that stood menacingly in front of him. The man gasped and quickly spun around to leave, only to come face to face with (Y/n) who casually leaned against the wall. She raised her hand, wiggling her fingers at him in a wave before ramming his skull into the wall, his body collapsing next to his partner. 

Art laughed wildly with glee in her participation, dropping the board and clapping his hands. He turned to his bag as (Y/n) lifted her camera, adjusting it then snapping a couple of photos as the couple groaned in pain together. 

When Art stood straight once more, she turned her back to them and leaned against the wall again, watching the street while she patiently waited. 

After long, Art tapped her on the shoulder and presented the now mangled pair, (Y/n) tilting her head in thought. After minor deliberation, Art propped them up against the wall to sit next to each other, leaning against the other with the woman’s head on the man’s shoulder. 

(Y/n) crouched, catching different angles and lighting while Art watched her work, taking in her form and focus with admiration. He caught the sound of new voices, head snapping as his smile dropped ever so slightly before stepping towards the opening of the alleyway. 

He reached the entrance, peeking his head out and looking both ways. He caught sight of a trio of teenagers, two brunettes and a blonde as they giggled. His eyes squinted when the shorter brunette turned her face more into his view, rage subtly beginning to simmer as his eyes glimmered in recognition. 

“What’s the matter?” (Y/n) asked when she stepped beside him, following his line of sight to see the same three girls. “You want them too?” She furrowed her brow when he didn’t acknowledge her. “Art?” 

He finally broke away from them and looked over at her, waving his hand off in dismissal. 

“Let’s get going, then.” She watched as he cast the disappearing girls one last look before turning to grab his bag, then took her hand as he came up to her and began their walk back home. (Y/n) looked back at the group one last time with suspicion.

As the two of them laid in their bed, (Y/n) couldn’t help but remember Art’s strange behavior earlier. She tried to focus on his steady breathing and the beat of his heart, his fingers that mindlessly caressed her shoulder. But it couldn’t distract her enough to brush it off. 

She felt Art tap her shoulder, feeling the unsteady rhythm of her heart that contrasted his own. (Y/n) looked up at him and he tilted his head at her in a silent question. 

She took a deep breath and sighed. “What was that earlier? With those girls?” 

Art’s lips twitched, then he waved his hand as if to say it was nothing. 

“You’ve never done that before.” (Y/n) pressed. Art frowned and a firm finger raised, warning her to not worry. She laid her head back down on his chest in defeat and he rubbed her shoulder, soothing her to help her fall asleep. 

(Y/n) stood in darkness. A void. Surrounded by nothing. She turned to see the silhouette of what seemed to be the shorter brunette from the trio, a nauseous feeling settling in (Y/n)’s stomach as tears welled up in her eyes. 

As she felt one trickle down her cheek, a hand cradled her chin and turned her head to face them. She was met with the beautiful green eyes of her infamous clown, falling into a trance as her legs began to lose feeling, jellifying under his piercing gaze. 

But when she reached up to his face, he disappeared. 

Her eyes fluttered open, the spot next to her on the bed cold and empty. Her eyes looked towards the boarded window, seeing no light shining through. She reached for her phone on the nightstand, checking the time. 

3:47.

(Y/n) stood with a sigh and rubbed at her tired eyes, sluggishly walking towards the door and leaving the room in search of Art. She entered the work room, expecting to find him sitting at his bench. But there was no sign of him. 

She checked the other rooms they rarely used, thinking he might’ve been in a more sporadic mood. But again, no sign. 

She meandered back over to her door when the entrance of the building opened and in walked the man in question, though without his bag and without more blood than she had fallen asleep to. 

He paused in the doorway, staring at her with his usual grin and she felt a pang in her chest, looking him up and down before disappearing back into her room without further acknowledgement.

Art cocked his head back in confusion, smile faltering at her behavior. He thought about following her, comforting her or cheering her up in some way. But he decided against it and made his way to his bench. 

She felt another pang in her chest when she heard him begin to hammer away, hoping that he would join her. 

Her mind raced, jumping to conclusion after conclusion.

Something wasn’t right, that much was evident. It didn’t start until he saw the group of girls. He wasn’t bothered, no. She knew him well enough to know that. 

No, what she saw in his eyes was determination. Sadistic, violent determination that worried her more than it should have. So much so that an uneasy feeling began to settle in her stomach. A feeling she hadn’t felt during the nearly full year they had been together. 

Uncertainty. 

During her turmoil, she fell back asleep, exhausted from the events of the night and her unfiltered thoughts. 

When she awoke the next day, the sun was up as rays showed between the boards. (Y/n) stared up at the ceiling for a few moments, mind quiet as she slowly blinked. 

Eventually, she stood and changed into a different outfit, sighing as she adjusted her clothes and finished getting ready before walking out towards the work room. 

Her spirits lifted when she saw Art’s back to her at his bench this time, toying with one of his creations. She shuffled behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso and feeling him relax beneath her. One of his hands reached down to pat her forearm, settling on top of it as he felt her cheek press against his back. 

“Missed you last night.” (Y/n) mumbled against him and his finger caressed her wrist in acknowledgment. 

She finally let go and stepped to stand beside him, kissing his cheek then sitting on her stool.

“Sharpening?” (Y/n) asked as he ran one of his knives along a metal rod and nodded. “Getting ready for something special, then?” She continued and yawned. 

Art nodded again, slower as he was deep in thought. He tossed the knife back into his bag sat beside him and stood, (Y/n)’s eyes following him curiously as he twisted the opening into a handle and slung it over his shoulder. 

“We’re going out during the day?” 

Art shook his head, slicing his hand across the air to tell her no. He pointed at her and made the motion again and her eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

“You don’t want me to go…?” 

Art’s eyes widened at the evident pain in her voice, waving his hand in front of him and shaking his head more vigorously in a panic to console her. 

“Then why shouldn’t I go?” She stood and her voice raised a little, the rate of her heart beginning to pick up. 

Art motioned for her to calm down and take a deep breath, pointing between the two of them and giving her an ok symbol. He rested his free hand on her shoulder and bent down to kiss her nose, walking backwards towards the exit and giving her a thumbs up for reassurance. 

As (Y/n) heard the door close, she began to hyperventilate as her mind raced with thoughts she never imagined were possible being with Art. 

Why didn’t he want her with him? Was there someone else? Was he growing tired of her?

The image of the girl from her dream, manifesting from the trio they saw that night entered her mind. 

Tears pricked at her eyes and she breathed heavily, pacing the room that now felt colder than usual and empty. A choked sob slipped past her lips and she covered her mouth. 

“No…” (Y/n) denied the possibility of him cheating on her. How could someone so simple take his attention away from her? From the relationship they had built together for so long? 

Unless the girl wasn’t as simple as she thought.

“No, no, no -“ She repeated to herself in desperation, and fell to her knees, arms wrapping around herself in false comfort. 

She cried, the dam she so proudly held finally breaking as everything came crashing down onto her in that moment. She crawled across the floor to lean back against the wall, head tilted back as she continued, looking up at the ceiling helplessly. 

After some time, her throat grew raw and her cries died down to sniffling and shaky breaths. She finally looked down from the ceiling to the concrete floor, catching a glimmer of something out of the corner of her eyes. 

She turned her head to see a simple kitchen knife laying a few feet away, taunting her as the blade shined beneath the single bulb hanging from the center of the dull room. 

(Y/n) stared at it for a few moments, a defeated sob working its way out of her throat as she slowly reached for it. She simply looked at it as she held it in her lap, contemplating. 

Her breathing grew labored, trembling as she slowly rolled up the sleeve of her left arm. The blade was lifted to the skin, just barely grazing the surface when she heard the front door open and she yanked it away, standing up in a rush. 

Her heart raced when she heard familiar footsteps grow closer, closer until the clown entered, bag nowhere to be seen. He looked around for a moment, eyes squinted in observation before he spotted her.

His grin immediately dropped at the sight before him. Her sleeve was up, blade in her other hand and shaking in her grasp. What disturbed him more than the blade was the raw emotion in her eyes. Emotions he would typically drink in with pleasure. 

Panic, fear. Pain. 

(Y/n) froze, unsure of what was going through his head, the sight of his frown unsettling in that moment. She took a step forward, face set in determination. 

“Who is she?” She choked out. No response. “Who is she!” (Y/n) shouted, breaking. 

Art slowly shook his head, forgetting about his theatrics with her state and stepping closer to her. 

“Who is she to be more deserving of your attention?” Tears began to flow down her cheeks once more. “What does she offer that I don’t?” Her voice cracked. 

Art simply stood, unmoving as he took in her words. 

“Answer me!” She screamed desperately.

He watched as (Y/n) looked down in defeat, then at her arm, then slowly back up at him. And Art noticed the familiar look of determination. The one he himself was so well acquainted with. 

Before he could understand what was happening, she quickly ran the blade across her inner forearm, effectively slicing the skin as red began to flow down in gentle streams and drip onto the floor. 

Art lurched forward and snatched the blade from her hand, tossing it to the side as it clattered onto the floor. He gritted his teeth at her, frustrated as she stared at him with tear-stained cheeks. He looked down at the wound she inflicted, observing the damage. 

It wasn’t deep enough to cause fatal harm, but it was a decent gash that would take some time to heal. He pressed the sleeve of his own forearm against it, soaking the blood and adding pressure to prevent further bleeding. 

He frowned as he looked back at her after hearing a sob, shaking his head at her in disappointment.    

“Please don’t leave me…” His brow furrowed. “I’ll do anything.” She whispered desperately and his expression softened in realization. “Please…” She watched as his gaze pierced through her and felt a strange pressure in her head, followed by an odd sense of comfort and adoration. 

Art suddenly leaned in and their lips met in sweet, demented unison. He tasted the salt of her tears, as did she as pressure was added to their kiss and she was flooded with overwhelming emotion. 

Her uninjured arm desperately reached up around his neck, bringing him impossibly closer as she stood on her toes. His own free arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her into him, then he suddenly lifted her up bridally. 

(Y/n) gripped onto him as if her life depended on it, burying her face in his neck as he brought them to her room and placed her on the bed, hovering over her. 

Their lips met once more and they desperately clawed at each other, eager to prove that the other was real. Art moved down to her neck, biting and sucking harshly as she jumped and breathed heavily for an alternate reason. 

His hands bruisingly gripped her waist as he ground himself into her, taking in her harmonious hums of pleasure. His hands slipped beneath her shirt, raising it to reveal the skin beneath until it was pulled over her head, mindful of her cut that he continued to press dry every now and then. 

His teeth dragged down her neck, in between her breasts, gloved hands desperately kneading them through her bra and growing frustrated with the fabric. He reached under her and toyed with the clip, eventually unclamping it and tugging it off before he returned to her breasts to continue his mannerisms. 

She sighed as his mouth aggressively latched on to one of her nipples, toying with it and rubbing himself on her thigh that he straddled. (Y/n) yelped when he bit down particularly hard, her thigh meeting his erect member and his head leaned back, eyes closed and mouth open at the unexpected pressure. 

Art licked down her stomach, leaving a trail of saliva in its wake and tugged off her pants and underwear impatiently, breathing hotly against her core. He grit his teeth in anticipation, looking up at her as she gazed at him with hooded eyes, hand reaching down to grasp at his shoulder. 

He then leaned in and began to ravage her pussy, dragging out a moan from her as her head dug into the pillow beneath her. His movements were erratic and desperate, fingers digging into her thighs and kneading them as he rocked his hips into the mattress. 

Her hips lifted to meet his tongue, practically grinding into his mouth and his chest rumbled in approval, growling noiselessly as he let her use him for herself. 

As her pitch and volume heightened, he focused on bringing her to the brink of her orgasm, hands roaming up and down her figure. 

Just as she neared the edge, he pulled away and she sighed, looking down at him with a pleading expression. Art looked up at her and crawled his way up the length of her body with an animalistic bearing, biting at her bottom lip and delving in to taste her lips once more. 

(Y/n) reached around to undo his zipper, pulling it down and sliding the fabric of his suit off of his shoulders as he took over to bring it down the rest of the way until his erection was freed. 

Their teeth clashed as he rubbed his tip against her center, using his hand to rub the moisture over the rest of his heavy cock. She whined as she felt him poke at her, sighing when his hips rolled and his member slipped past her folds and buried itself into her. 

Art wasted no time in waiting, setting a steady rhythm as his mouth worked its way down her neck again, settling on sucking aggressively at the delicate skin. One of his arms reached beneath her, hooking his hand on her shoulder to pull her into him as he thrusted into her. His other pressed against her forearm to block the wound, taking her mind away from the aching pain as his speed increased. 

She cried out in pure bliss, hand resting on the back of his neck and holding him against her as her thighs pulled back. He angled himself upwards, finding the area she loved so sweetly as she nearly screamed into his ear. 

He licked up and down her neck through his grin, pounding into her with newfound aggression as she clung onto him. Her eyes rolled back, closing as her mind grew foggy with intense pleasure. 

With a few more thrusts, she was thrown over the edge and arched her back, pressing herself into him as she rode out her high. Art watched her with lust clouded eyes, thrusts growing sloppy as he chased his own release. She felt him pulse within her and moaned at the sensation, feeling him fill her more than before and looked down at where they met. 

Art huffed silently and pulled out, collapsing next to her with a lazy smile. He looked down at her arm and frowned, giving her a for shame motion with his fingers. (Y/n) met his patronizing gaze with doe eyes, wide and filled with unanswered questions. 

“What are you hiding from me?” She whispered, dreading the answer. 

Art held up a finger, as if to say first. He pointed between the two of them, then waved a careless hand out into the room to show nothing else in the world mattered to him but themselves. 

“Then what is happening? What is so special about that girl?” (Y/n) sat up, invested in what was going on and he followed her up. 

Art pointed to himself, then to the window to represent the girl, then ran a finger across his neck and made an after motion. 

“Why not just kill her and be done with it since you’re so determined?” 

Art shook his head then grinned mischievously. He balled his hands into fists, putting one over the other and slowly twisting. 

“You want to torture her?” Art nodded. “You can’t just do that right before you kill her like everyone else?” Art shook his head again.

He pointed between the window - the girl - and himself, slicing at the air in front of him with his arms then folding them in front of himself like a child throwing a temper. He then pointed back at the window, then himself, then slid a finger across his neck again. 

(Y/n) chuckled incredulously. “She wants to kill you? So you’re basically enemies.” 

Art nodded excitedly and pointed at her. 

“That’s even more reason to just kill her and get it over with, that doesn’t make sense.” 

(Y/n) stood and began to re-dress as Art watched with a thoughtful expression. When she turned to face him again he slid a finger across his neck for a third time, pointing firmly at the ground to say today.

“And I’m going with you, yeah?” She replied as a statement more than a question. Art began to shake his head and she crossed her arms, holding back a wince as she forgot about the cut. “I’m going with you.” She reaffirmed sternly and his shoulders slumped in defeat, looking off to the side with a glare. 

Art looked back at her with a sarcastic smile, giving her two ok symbols before his smile fell and he rolled his eyes. 

(Y/n) sighed and her expression softened, making her way over to him and guiding him to stand and turn around. 

“We’ll be okay.” She reassured him softly as she zipped up his suit, letting him turn to face her again. “We always are, in the end.” She kissed the tip of his nose and he nodded giddily, his smile returning genuinely. 

Later that evening, after the sun had just set, Art urged them to leave and get into the van - and still wouldn’t disclose where he got it from. She sat in the passenger seat and buckled, Art hopping into the driver’s seat and turning the ignition as the van revved itself to life. 

“When did you learn to drive?” (Y/n) asked jokingly. Art shrugged sheepishly, then eyed the spot she sat in with an odd expression. “What?” He shook his head and waved her off with uncertainty, shifting the van into drive and speeding off to who-knew-where. 

(Y/n) fidgeted with her camera when they pulled into a nicer neighborhood, rain pattering against the windshield as it stormed. He parked in front of a house at the end of a roundabout, pointing to it with an eager smile. 

“Is this her house?” 

Art shook his head, taping his index fingers together. 

“Her friend?” 

Art nodded and wiggled his eyebrows, (Y/n) sighing before the two of them got out and ran around to the back of the house. She gasped when he suddenly grabbed a brick and smashed in the sliding glass door, quickly collecting herself and following him inside to get out of the rain. 

“Not feeling really subtle tonight, I see.” (Y/n) spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb the silence settled in the house. 

Art meandered into the kitchen, waving a hand in dismissal of her comment as she trailed behind him. 

“It’s too bad, this house seems so nicely decorated.” She annotated as she looked around, facing Art when he grabbed a random glass from the counter and turned on the faucet to fill it with water. 

She chuckled at his antics, turning into a giggle when he faced away from the sink to chug the water as if he hadn’t had any in days. (Y/n) then looked across the countertop, stepping closer when she spotted a pair of scissors and a knife. 

She hummed in approval. “Found your favorite.” Art set down the glass once it was empty and spun to face her, spotting the two items and rubbing his hands together in excitement, making his way over to them. 

(Y/n) suddenly heard a floorboard creak and looked around, seeing one of the brunettes from the other night watching them in pure terror. She casually lifted her camera and snapped a picture, Art giving a test snip of the scissors before looking to see what caught her attention. 

He stood up straight with a playful smile when he spotted his victim, raising the tools in his hands and snipping the scissors tauntingly at her. The girl screamed and ran off, Art following after her immediately in the opposite direction. 

“Have fun!” (Y/n) called after him, chuckling to herself when she heard them thump up the stairs. 

She looked around a little while longer, appreciating the owner’s sense of interior design for a moment before sitting down on the living room couch. She turned on the TV, drowning out the sounds from upstairs as she flipped through the different channels. 

She perked up when she saw an image on the news of Art leaving what seemed to be a costume shop during the day, suit freshly bloodied with his signature bag slung over his shoulder. 

“Huh.” She reacted simply, then turned around when she heard footsteps from the stairs. Art walked out, coated in much more blood than before and she quirked an eyebrow. “Done already?” She asked with a hint of surprise.

Art shook his head, (Y/n) watching as he rummaged through the cabinets and cupboards in the kitchen. He pulled out a white gallon jug of a chemical she couldn’t quite read from where she sat, then a container of salt and giddily trotted back upstairs. 

She simply shrugged and turned back to the TV, disappointment painting her face when the news anchor moved on to a different story. 

Some time later, she jumped when she heard the shuffle of keys outside of the front door and switched off the TV, getting up to hide behind the wall of the staircase. 

“Allie!” A woman called as the door opened and closed, presumably the girl’s mother. “Have you been handing out candy? That bowl is still filled to the brim.” She continued. 

(Y/n) stood frozen, peeking around just enough to see the woman hanging up her purse on a rack by the door. She quickly hid back when the mother began to head up stairs, holding her breath when her steps suddenly stopped. 

She dared to peer around once more, seeing her looking in the other direction where the glass door had been broken in. “Oh my god.” She gasped worriedly. “Allie?” The woman began to back away towards the stairs once more. “Allie!” 

As her voice grew distant, (Y/n) finally let out a breath and rolled her eyes at the disturbance. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, waiting expectedly. After a minute or so, a scream echoed through the house and she nodded her head. “There it is.” (Y/n) mused, then kicked herself off of the wall and made her way back to the couch to resume watching the television. 

When she heard Art descend the stairs a second time, he brought down the mother’s head with him and showed it to her with a proud flourish. (Y/n) walked up to him and examined it, noticing the top had been carved out into a makeshift bowl. 

She looked up at him and shook her head with a smile, walking over to the candy bowl sat by the front door with Art in tow. “Don’t expect me to help with the kids.” She warned him as she took a few handfuls of candy and transferred them into the head. Art simply grinned at her and nodded his head. 

Just then, the doorbell rang and (Y/n) shrugged, stepping around the clown to open the door for him. She hid behind the door, hearing the kids’ reactions of whoa’s and cool’s at Art’s ‘costume’ and candy bowl. “Ew,” She heard a little girl complain. “Why is mine so sticky?” (Y/n) rolled her eyes. 

“Don’t worry, it’s just fake blood, just put it in the bag.” The mom told the little girl and (Y/n) silently gave compliments to her for her patience. The kids giggled before they turned and left, granting a Happy Halloween before Art came back inside and closed the door. 

“You get your fix?” (Y/n) asked him as he tossed the head to the side, candy scattering over the floor. 

He shrugged in agreement, then clapped his hands together and pointed at the door for them to leave. 

“Exactly how many people are you getting involved with tonight for this?” (Y/n) broke the silence as he drove, the rain slowly coming to a stop. 

Art held up four fingers and she hummed. 

“That’s a surprisingly small number for you. But I guess dragging out each victim will do that.” Art nodded joyfully, the van slowing down as they reached a new neighborhood. 

They pulled in front of another house and parked, (Y/n) making a move to follow him when he told her to wait. She pouted and he reached out to her, gently patting her on the head before he got out of the van. She watched as he wandered up to the house until his figure disappeared inside. 

(Y/n) jumped when the van suddenly shifted into drive and began to move seemingly on its own, unable to move as she just sat frozen and baffled.

She then looked over to the driver’s side and saw what looked like a little girl with strikingly pale skin. She was dressed similarly to Art himself, makeup and all. Though it resembled more of a poorly put together cosplay of him. Her teeth were just as rotten, but her eyes glowed a bright yellow and red when she looked over at (Y/n) with an eerie smile and waved. 

Hesitantly, the woman returned her wave and spoke. “Are you a friend of Art’s?” She asked with a slight tremble in her voice. The little girl nodded, focusing back on the road as she cheerfully drove. “How long have you known each other?” (Y/n) asked, deciding to simply embrace what was happening and strike a conversation. 

The little girl held up a finger. 

“Days?” The girl shook her head. “Weeks? Months?” More shaking. “A year?” A nod. “You’ve been with him this whole time?” The girl smiled giddily, tilting her head side to side. “I’m assuming you know who I am then?” She nodded again and held up a half-heart with her fingers. 

Her face then twisted into focus, the van slowing to a stop. (Y/n) followed her line of sight, spotting a teenage boy hunched over and panting. 

The girl suddenly honked the horn and (Y/n) jumped in surprise. “Can he see us?” She asked as the boy whipped around to look at the van in both fear and confusion. 

The girl pointed at herself and shook her head, then pointed at (Y/n) and nodded. They watched as a group of kids ran past him and he stumbled, then turned to look back at them and slowly made his way towards the van. 

“Is he serious?” The little girl clapped excitedly and nodded. The boy stopped a few feet away from the van, the radio turning on and glitching through different stations as he stared at (Y/n) with his eyebrows furrowed. He looked away at the group of kids that passed him when the girl honked the horn again to recapture his attention. 

His eyes widened when the girl revealed herself to him, staring at him with a blank expression and wide eyes before he bolted. 

When he left, the girl giggled silently and looked over at (Y/n) for validation. The woman genuinely joined her, the boy’s reaction amusing. 

The van began to move again, following the boy as he ran into the house that Art had gone into and parked in front of it once more. 

The girl turned to face (Y/n), the latter doing the same and paused when the girl poked her knee playfully. Then twice again. Not understanding, the girl motioned to her own knees, then looked back up at the woman expectedly. 

Slowly, (Y/n) reached out and poked her knee just the same as the girl did and the girl giggled happily before reaching out and poking her knee again, now three times. (Y/n) followed. 

She went along with the girl’s little games in boredom as they waited, then screams sounded from the house and they looked at each other in understanding. 

Art suddenly emerged from the front door, dragging the boy from earlier by his arm, his body unmoving. The clown popped open the doors at the back of the van and slid the body inside, closing them as he walked around to the driver’s side door. 

(Y/n) gasped and froze when the girl crawled over into her lap, plopping herself happily to sit on top of her and kicked her legs. Art opened the door, face showing surprise at first, then laughed when he saw (Y/n)’s shocked expression. 

He hopped in the van and shut the door, throwing the van into drive and speeding off. 

After a few minutes of driving, Art pulled out a phone from beneath his legs on the seat and handed it over to the little girl. (Y/n) watched as she unlocked it and filtered through its contacts, clicking on Sienna and dialing. 

“Hello?” A female voice answered on the other end of the line. 

“Sienna, I’m in trouble!” The girl mimicked the boy’s voice and (Y/n)’s eyes widened, looking over at Art as he laughed while watching the road in front of them. 

“Oh, you think? Mommy told me what you did to her car, you little asshole. I mean, really?”

(Y/n) looked over at Art and pointed at him in question and he nodded proudly. “No, you have to come get me.” The little girl continued. 

“What do you mean? What’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I’m at the old carnival. Eric and Sean left me here. I’m all alone!” The girl’s head tilted eerily with a creak. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Please, I’m really scared! I don’t know what else to do, I can’t call Mommy!” 

“Okay, um - alright, calm down. I’ll come get you. Okay?”

“Hurry, my phone is dying!”

“Alright, just wait by the main entrance, okay?”

The girl hung up and the three of them looked amongst each other with a shared glint in their eyes. 

As they rolled into the carnival’s parking lot, they all hopped out and Art grabbed the boy’s body from the back, throwing him over his shoulder. (Y/n) turned to look for the little girl, but found nothing and looked back at Art with a confused expression. 

Art simply shrugged and began to make his way inside, (Y/n) following like a lost puppy. 

“So when were you going to tell me about the girl?” She questioned him as they entered the Terrifier, trusting that Art knew where he was going through the maze of demonic props and animatronics. 

He pointed between the two of them, then made a short this high motion to represent the little girl and waved his hand in dismissal. 

“Is she always there?” Art shook his head, then pointed at her and made a sleeping motion. “Only when I’m asleep?” He nodded. “Well, that’s sweet of her, at least, to give us our time.” 

Art shrugged as they entered a room that looked similar to their workroom at their own hideout, spotting a bench that was equally as messy with tools splayed out. His bag sat next to it, a small and broken in box TV in the center of the room not far from his bench. 

Art turned to face her and aggressively pointed to the floor, telling her to stay put with a stern expression. (Y/n)’s lips parted in confusion.

“Why?” She pleaded, stepping closer to him as he adjusted the body over his shoulder and cocked his head at her, letting her know not to argue. She let out a shaky breath. “Will you be long…?” (Y/n) asked as she picked at her nails, worry decorating her face. 

Art shrugged, not knowing how long it would take and she bit her lip. She took a deep breath and walked up to him, lifting herself on her toes to bring their lips together in a passionate kiss. 

“Just come back to me.” She whispered, meeting his intense gaze. 

Art gave her a firm nod and slowly turned to make his way out of the room. 

“Art?” 

The clown paused, head turning to acknowledge her. 

“Give them hell.” 

His mouth spread wide open with a large, toothy grin, then stalked out of the room to carry out whatever it was he had planned. 

As she sat alone in Art's alternate workroom, the sounds of chaos and violence echoed through the walls. Her heart raced with every scream, every cry for help that pierced the air. She had learned to trust Art, but something felt different about that night as each passing moment felt heavier than the last.

She tried to calm herself, reminding herself that Art was a master of his craft, a performer who knew how to handle himself in any situation. But the fear crept in, consuming her with every passing second. What if something went wrong? What if he needed her and she wasn’t there?

Impossible.

(Y/n) paced the small room, hands trembling with anxiety. She longed to be by Art's side, to support him, to protect him. But there she was, helpless, waiting for him to come back to her.

Minutes turned into hours - or so it felt. Time seemed to stretch and warp, playing tricks on her mind. The cries of help, yelling and screaming had died for quite some time. 

She tried to come up with reasons for his delay that made sense. Covering his tracks? Cleaning up? 

Never. Not with Art. 

She chewed at the inside of her cheek, thoughts spiraling into a dark abyss of worry and doubt. She had never felt so alone, so vulnerable.

After what she deemed to be too long of a silence, she gave in to her instincts and left the room. She wound through the maze, left and right and left and right, at first attempting to follow trails of blood and all leading to nowhere except another cheap attraction. 

(Y/n) then found herself in a rather messy and empty-looking room. Trash seemed to litter every square inch, boards scattered among the dust and grime. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a familiar comically large shoe, turning her head slowly to find the source. 

She gasped sharply, then cried out a painful scream at what lay before her. 

She stumbled over to the decapitated body of her clown, falling next to it on her knees and frantically touching him. 

“No, no, no - my love!” (Y/n) sobbed and continued to scream as tears streamed down her cheeks, refusing to accept that what was in front of her was real. 

She leaned down to rest on top of his body, arms wrapping around him as if he were still alive. Her body shook violently as she lay there with him when something glimmered next to her. 

A sparkle of silver shone from the bottom of his pant leg and she reached over to raise the fabric, seeing a hunter’s knife strapped to his calf. 

(Y/n) simply breathed for a few moments, staring at the weapon. Her hand then grasped onto the handle and slid it out, squeezing it as she sat on her knees, hovering over his body. 

She looked up at the ceiling, heartbroken and desperate.

“We’ll be okay.” Her voice echoed in her head.

Her other hand also came up to hold onto the handle, arms raising up, outstretched with the blade facing her torso. 

“We always are, in the end.”

She plunged it into herself with a hoarse scream. 

Blood seeped through her shirt, pouring down onto the body below her as she slid the blade out of herself. The knife clattered onto the floor as she dropped it, hands shaking as she slowly sunk down onto the stained floor to lay next to Art’s body. 

(Y/n) snaked her arms around him, lightly pressing herself against him as her blood soaked into his suit from behind. 

Her breath trembled, growing more and more shallow as time seemed to drag and her eyes grew heavier. 

She gave in, eyelids drooping to close as everything went black. 

-

“Just leave her.” A raspy and distorted female voice spit. “If you’re so determined, then do it yourself. I’m not wasting my time with this shit.”

The sound of retreating footsteps gradually disappeared, leaving a dark and disturbing presence to loom over the body that lay in the center of the dusty attic. 

The figure crouched down beside them, gloved hand reaching out to caress their cheek. The same hand trailed down to their torso, palm covering the fatal gash that sat over where their heart was. The figure’s eyes closed for a moment, feeling as if a force was pulling at them, weakening their already vulnerable state as they grit their teeth.

Then it disappeared. 

The figure’s eyes opened and took away their hand, watching as the face below him paled, yet somehow seemed to glow with a newfound ethereal beauty.

Suddenly, the body’s chest rose as it took in a breath, eyes fluttering open as it exhaled. Their eyes wandered for a moment, adjusting to the environment around them, then slowly met the now stark-white irises of the familiar face above them. 

“Art?” Her delicate voice called to him. 

Tag list: @hoe-for-daddywise @callsignwidow

[atlaswav]

EMPYREAN ☾

INFO: 4385 words, dr ratio x gn!reader, college au SYNOPSIS: Art is the practice of capturing life in still motion, and yet Dr Ratio can never seem to capture your beauty in its entirety in his sketches. His waking thoughts are clouded by images of you, the bane of his existence. He hates it, but can't resist. The Gods - if there are any - are cruel. WARNINGS: none! for once! except attempted kiss. AUTHOR'S NOTE: my head hurts so bad rn and i need sleep but there were thoughts in my mind. also i think its really boring lowkey but hey! i said i'd publish something by sunday! also i think his characterisation is really off today but oh well.

Divinity wasn’t real. There were no real Gods, they didn’t exist – couldn’t. Science proved such. Miracles were situations of insurmountable luck, and no one’s fate was “ordained” like astrology maniacs liked to think. 

But when Icarus fell from the great skies of myth, reaching for the sun and Gods and the heavens beyond, Veritas Ratio was sure that the gnawing terror and morbid awe that seized that man at the sight below was familiar to him. That sprawling city touched by the sublime sun, smiled upon with the benevolent God peering through the clouds whose gaze melted fragile wax. 

He was sure that that fear and unprecedented awe was the same as when he first glimpsed you. 

His fall, however, wasn’t graceful or worthy of any legend. 

“Oh– you alright?” 

“My apologies, I–” he glanced up, leaning down to immediately pick up his sketchbook which had fallen to the ground, then he froze. 

“...Are you okay?”

This, he wasn’t certain. You helped him gather his supplies again, and he thought he’d never see you again – there were so many buildings and so many classes, why would he? But as if fate was stringing him along, he wound up sitting next to you for his art studies class. The class he convinced himself he needed to take for a proper education.

Icarus’ fall was met with swift demise, and he was so sure that he would too. But who was he to compare himself to legends? Even still, why else would he be stricken by the malady of your existence, if you weren’t some overwhelming beauty that his greed desired to capture? 

Art, however, could not capture life as any man would like. It could never catch the way light reflected in the eyes, illuminating the soul. Neither the delicate intricacies of a smile, a twitch of muscle, a beating of a butterfly’s wings, the delicacy of life.

Try as one might, however, Dr Ratio aimed to do this, anyway. Charcoal was his chosen medium, pervading clean paper, marking intent, focus and desperation. 

He remembered you casting him a smile before seating yourself beside him, and all his doubts in taking the art course dissipated from his mind – despite your literal run in moments before. 

You became immersed in the artwork at your fingertips as the professor chirped about something he should’ve probably been attentive to, but to him, it was now entirely meaningless. Your cheeks lifted when you smiled, creasing the corners of your eyes. Your hair fell over your face in graceful lines that framed your features, and your hands moved with such gentle dexterity that he yearned to capture them in his drawings. Your eyes narrowed in the slightest as your brush met the canvas, mouth agape with your fixation on your art. 

The charcoal snapped, and Veritas Ratio likewise snapped from his immersion, frowning at the dark lines that marred the page. 

In his sketch, your eyes were obscured by a wall of smudged black ash instead of the curtain of hair that covered your features. Ratio sighed, leaning back from the desk. Your eyes were now downcast on your palette as you mixed paints. 

There was a divinity in you that he yearned to capture, like sunlight in a jar. Futile, but with noble intention, he swore to himself. 

Then, there were more classes. More days that passed, more instances where he observed your habits, your artwork that had you enrapt, just as he imagined his own perverse captivation with you. There were more charcoal sketches in sketchbooks that never saw the light of day, ones where your smile was too wide, didn’t meet your eyes, or didn’t carry the exact expression that yours projected. 

Art could never imitate life – Veritas was simply mortal. But mortals could always dream of something divine.

There were times where he left the classroom for a moment, and he feared you might glance over at his sketchbook to see the hundreds of sketches of yourself. Smiling and frowning and focused, the end of your paintbrush sitting absently between your lips, your gaze cast to the side, small splatters of paint smudged under your eyes and on your fingers. It was unsettling. He knew it himself. There had to be an extent to his observation when it became invasive, yet he feared losing your presence without ever capturing it in still motion. 

This is when a man grows desperate. 

“May I draw you?”

“...draw me?” you glanced towards him, reluctantly tearing your gaze from your own work. “Why?”

“A study.”

You smiled a half smile. An expression that he was familiar with, given that you were already halfway through the semester. Still, there was nothing to your encounters but smiles of courtesy and niceties (he’d never admit that he so desired more).

“Sure. Show it to me later.”

Now, Dr Ratio discovers, there are few things that may disturb a man’s endeavours when he is enrapt in his studies. None of which affected Veritas in the slightest as his charcoal became dust on his fingers and he clicked his tongue at the material’s reluctance to bend at his will. 

None of which can successfully capture the being that is you, and he isn’t sure he wants to, anymore. Art isn’t made for the eyes of greed, it’s made for the soul that yearns for the cure of the senses. Or so the greats all say, but he thinks he cannot be one of them. He couldn’t imitate life, he was versed in the calculations of life instead. 

Caught in his thoughts, he taps his – new – stick of charcoal on the edge of the drawing pad, frowning at the new sketch he was pondering. 

“You’re really good.” your voice echoes from behind him. 

He turns abruptly to find you standing behind him, head tilted as you examine his sketches. Your nose scrunches the tiniest bit, and your eyes crinkle with a hint of mirth.

“Does my nose really look like that?”

“Of course.”

You laugh at his blunt reply. “Can I see your other drawings?”

There are over seven thousand languages that still exist in the world, and Veritas Ratio cannot think of a better, more dire way to say no than to agree completely. 

“Of course.” He flips through his sketchbook quietly, letting you glimpse his insanity. You were making him lose his mind, really. He watches your expression – how your eyes widen, your lips part, your brows furrow. 

“Did you do all of this since the last lesson?”

No, but he wouldn’t say that – 

“No, I've been studying you for a while.”

– Or maybe he would. 

Your laugh is another divine thing that he wishes he can capture. “Oh God, I’m embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. You make a good muse.” 

“Do I?”

He nods, biting his tongue. He doesn’t want to incriminate himself any further than he already has, and he’s already become a stalker to you. 

“Is that a compliment?”

“Yes. Undoubtedly.” 

“Consider me flattered, then…” 

“Dr Ratio. Veritas. Veritas Ratio.”

“...Veritas.” 

He loves the way your lips mouth his name. He’d never say it to your face, though. This, at least, would die with him. 

“Well, thank you. You may return to your painting.”

You huff a laugh. “So formal. I’m nearly done, so I don’t really have anything urgent to worry about. Meanwhile you…”

He’s inclined to agree. The professor was checking everyone’s progress the next lesson, and he still hadn’t grasped what he thought to have been perfect. 

“Ah. Right.”

“Do you want me to like… pose for you or something?”

He hesitates. Why? He doesn’t know. Maybe something about morality and art and the truth, but he doesn’t care anymore. “That… would be ideal.”

“Alright, but you’ll owe me as well. Deal?”

This is how Veritas Ratio finds himself pacing his apartment, fixing his hair in the mirror, dusting the tops of the bookshelves that line the walls and polishing the kitchen counter so that each surface is devoid of any evidence of his own guilty conscience. 

His anxieties were immediately multiplied hundredfold when you knocked. He waited a couple of seconds – to not seem too desperate, with his heart racing out of his chest – then finally opened the door. 

You stood there, smiling with such casual ease that he found himself wanting to know everything about you. 

It was absurd. 

A tiny, suppressed part of him welcomed it. 

“Hey, Veritas,” 

There it was again, the unfamiliar way you said his name, smile widening. He decided against a verbal reply, instead nodding and guiding you into his living room. 

“You’re so… clean.” you glanced about the apartment, marvelling at how almost every surface had a shine to it. But it made sense, once you saw him sitting at the couch, already observing you with the unshakeable gaze you’d felt since that first class. 

You weren’t entirely oblivious to his stare, just as you weren’t unobservant with the way his cheeks dusted with pink the day before – and today, it seemed – as he made eye contact. 

You smiled, and watched him blink a couple of times before turning away with a cleared throat. 

“Yes. I can’t stand a mess of any sort.”

“Figured.” you shrugged, standing next to him. “So, where do you want to start? What should I do?”

He hesitated for a second before directing you to the armchair across from him. “Just sit there for now. We’ll start here.”

You complied, allowing him to hurriedly arrange the folds of your clothes and angle of your limbs with fleeting touches. 

He appeared nervous, but it was endearing. 

Minutes pass by in silence, faint scratching of charcoal on paper filling the space between you. The sunset’s light poured in through the balcony behind you, casting a dramatic shadow over the armchair. Purple, orange, yellow – you wondered if that scrutinising look he gave you was disapproval or awe. There was no way of telling, with his complex set of facial-expressions. 

But interpreting him through guesses wasn’t how you envisioned this would play out. 

You cleared your throat, but he didn't glance up. He held the sketchbook up next to you, but quickly returned to the page, making harsh lines across the page. 

“So… Veritas?”

His head snapped up, stray strands of violet hair splayed across his forehead. “Yes?”

“Why did you take art?”

His eyes narrowed on you. Examining, maybe. “I felt as if I needed to. For a well rounded study, of course.”

You laughed. “Of course you did.”

At this, he paused. “What do you mean by this?”

“Your reputation on campus. You have… what, four degrees? You’re famous.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, never putting down the charcoal, but tapping it against his fingers instead. “Oh? What else have you heard?”

“Well, they say you’re insanely smart, but you’re also pretentious.”

He frowned. The way his brows scrunched was endearing. “I’m not pretentious. Everyone else is simply far underqualified.”

“They also say that you’re an elitist.” you laughed. 

Concern only grew on his expression. “Do you think this of me?”

You shrugged. “I’m yet to form an opinion.”

He nodded. “Good. Wise.” he said, almost as if reassuring himself. 

“...How long will this be, though? I can only sit still for so long.”

He blinked, turning to the sketchpad again. “Not too long. I promise.”

“Can we go out to dinner, afterwards?” 

At this, he choked. You stifled a laugh at the renewed blush on his cheeks. 

“Dinner? Why?”

“You owe me, don’t you?”

This is when he realises that he was a fool in allowing you in, to allow the muse of his most divine visions to become human. 

He’s greedy, though. No one and nothing can change this. He wanted more of you. He wanted to hear each thought that crossed your mind and know each little item that occupied your attention. He wanted to dissect your mind and examine your memories and behaviours like an insect splayed under a glass, and he wanted to understand you so well that he became sick with the thought of you. But in his mind, you could do no wrong. You were so divine; with your secret smiles that held secret thoughts, and knowing glances that examined his frame with an artist’s scrutinising eye. 

“Fine. Just let me finish up.”

So you stay put, and you return to the thick silence that envelops the room. The clock ticking above the armchair only taunts you as your limbs begin to ache from lack of movement. 

Scratching on paper, huffs of exasperation, the occasional tearing of a page, and he finally sighs, rising from the couch. The sun had long since set, only remnants of daylight still lingering on the sky’s deep blue. The light was gone. You wondered if he’d captured the sun in his drawing, as well. 

“It’s done. Not good as the professor would like, but it will do for now.” he said, running a hand – dusted with black – through his hair. His forehead was coated in splotches of black thumb prints. 

You similarly rose from the armchair, stretching, and walked over to the drawing on the coffee table. 

You didn’t realise this was how you looked to him. Your features were only emphasised in the dramatics of the sunset, the slight turn of your lips and curve of your cheekbones accentuated with the shadows. He’d taken artistic liberty, you realised, in painting you within the sun’s dying light. 

You almost looked divine. 

“Holy shit.”

“Does that hold a negative connotation?”

“Veritas, you’re crazy.”

“...negative?”

“It’s so…” you met his gaze which was already searching yours for a reaction. “It’s brilliant. It’s so, so good.”

His shoulders relaxed as he sighed. “Good. Let’s go to dinner, then.” he turns to leave, but you stop him, grabbing his arm. You found that it was hard as chiselled marble, and almost want to find out exactly what’s underneath, but you dismiss the thought. 

“You have something on your forehead.” you point. 

He frowned, rubbing his forehead with the same hand that had been gripping the charcoal for the past hour. Smudged it even further. His forehead was thinly coated in black ash.

You sighed. “Here, let me.” 

He leaned down for you to wipe the stains, hair hanging over his eyes. He smelled faintly of the library with its old books, and partly of ink with something deeper. His eyes darted around to meet anything but your gaze, long lashes fluttering, crimson red eyes matching the shade of his complexion. 

You make him nervous, you confirm with delight. 

“There. That’s the most of it.” you withdrew, and he stood back up quicker than you thought possible. 

“Alright, dinner, then.” 

“Dinner.”

“I’ll go and… wash up.”

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

He realised how much he was doomed as the sky started to pour with rain, just as the two of you stepped outdoors, beyond his apartment complex. 

“How far is the place you wanted to go?” he asked you.

“Not too far. Let’s just keep walking.”

He shrugged, falling into step beside you. His steps were terrifyingly large, as would make sense with his tall frame. 

“So what are your interests?” he blurts out, staring at the ground as he walks. 

“Well, art, obviously,”

“Yes, of course, do you think I’m dense?”

“Maybe a little.” 

“I will interpret that as sarcasm.”

You laugh, and as if the heavens had heard you, the rain began to fall heavier, darkening the landscape, tingeing the air with smells of petrichor and a cold that wasn’t there before. 

Ratio thought it was ironic. A pathetic fallacy of his doomed fate. 

“You have to be kidding me.”

He sighed, massaging his temples with his fingers. “We are unfortuitous.”

“...You could’ve said unlucky.”

“I choose not to associate myself with idiots.”

You chuckle as you attempt to cover your head with your arms, running to the nearest block for shelter. The rain, however, doesn’t desist. It continues to pour until you’re both soaked through – his hair soaking wet, sticking to his forehead, white shirt clinging to his carved abdomen that you desperately try to avoid looking at. 

“Should we just go back?” you move your hair out of your eyes, squinting in the relentless downpour. Through the slight shelter of the building behind you two, the rain pours heavy as ever, unlikely to cease soon. 

“I was waiting for you to come to that conclusion.”

“...Why didn’t you offer it first?”

Because he thought you looked good in the rain with wet hair. He wanted to remember the image – burn it into his eyelids – before he returned to sketch it. Number of things he’d never say aloud: two.

“I was waiting for you to come to that conclusion yourself.”

“Pretentious.”

“Thank you. Now can we hurry? It’s only getting heavier.”

His situation, ironically, then becomes even more perilous. A series of unfortunate events, unfolding like a train of misfortunes. First, your meeting – strikingly uncomfortable for both of you, he imagined (it certainly was for him) – then your failed attempt at dinner, interrupted by an unforgiving rain storm. He didn’t think it could get much worse. But there was always room for improvement, as he knows better than anyone, the academic that he is. 

There are, now, puddles of water throughout Dr Ratio’s apartment that he hadn’t bothered to clean since you got into his shower.

You, in his shower. 

He wonders if there is a God, somewhere out there, delighting in his torment. It was never supposed to devolve into such interactions, only observing you long enough to capture your beauty on the page. 

He wonders if you know he is thinking about you often as he does. Thinks you’d be completely repulsed by him. This is what frightens him. 

“Veritas?” your voice echoes from within the house. 

He gets up from where he’s sitting in a puddle near the kitchen, racing to the bathroom at your call. Did he manage to miss something incriminating in his bathroom? He’d made sure that every surface was bare before you entered, had he not?

“Yes?”

“...This is embarrassing. Can you please get me a towel?” 

This felt like one of those cliches in romantic comedies that Ratio’s colleagues liked to watch. Mindless scenes of dry humour and burlesque attempts at “comedy” he found appalling. It was happening to him, now. Spiting his academic rigidity. 

“Of course. One moment.”

He tries not to think about you, standing completely bare behind the door, as he sticks a hand into the bathroom, head turned away. If you looked closer, you’d have seen the bright red shade of his ears – but to his merit, you take the towel, shutting the door, a muffled “thank you” audible through the door. 

He sighs, sitting on the floor beside the bathroom. 

Whatever Gods there were, were bestowing great suffering on him today. 

It takes a couple minutes for you to finish up in the bathroom. Another few more for him to wash up, and another handful of minutes for you both to be seated on the couch together in awkward silence. 

You wear one of Ratio’s old shirts and shorts, scrolling on your phone, and he is sitting, arms crossed, on the opposite end of the couch, staring at you again. Outside, the rain still pours in unceasing rivulets, dissipating any ideas for going out for dinner. 

He thinks his clothes look far better on you than on him. Thinks that you were made for this world and its inhabitants, crafted so perfectly. Wonders what wouldn’t suit your wear, because he can’t imagine anything that you couldn’t look good in. 

“Okay,” you say, turning off your phone to stare back at him, “I ordered. Should be here in about ten minutes.” 

He nods, and averts his gaze. 

You smile. His behaviour is amusing.  

“Veritas?”

“Yes?”

“What are your greatest fears?”

“Excuse me?”

You shuffle closer, and he notes a glint in your eye that suggests mischief. Teasing, as he’d seen before. “What are you afraid of? Like, the dark?”

“Nothing.”

“Boring. Come on, there’s gotta be something.” 

He frowns, brows bunching together as he stares at the wall. An easy, natural habit. “Nothing. Fear is irrational.”

“Right.” you laugh at his blatant refusal to cooperate with you. 

“Am I being funny?”

“No,”

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re being so… unexpectedly childish.”

“What?” he seems to prickle up with indignation. “What do you mean?”

“Your stubbornness to just answer my question, and the way you’re…” you gesture to his posture, the way his arms are folded and he glares at the wall. “Behaving. It’s childish.”

“Well, what are you afraid of? Nothing, right? It’s a stupid question.”

“I’m afraid of insects, the dark, I could go on, really,”

Veritas glares at you, meeting your eyes for a second. “Fear is stupid.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you scared of holding eye contact?”

At this, he blinks. He turns to face you, still frowning, but his gaze flickers between your eyes and the rest of your face. Your laugh only makes him roll his eyes. 

“You really can’t hold eye contact, can you?” you say through a fit of giggles. “Have you ever dated?”

“Yes, I can hold eye contact,” – but not with you, it seemed. You intimidated him – “And no, I haven’t, it’s a distraction.”

“From what I’m seeing, you can barely even be near me without blushing.”

He blushes, breathing a sigh of exasperation. 

“Dr Veritas Ratio’s one fear is making eye–”

Then he grabs your shoulders, forcing you closer, and holds your gaze with such intensity that the words disappear from your lips. You blink as his stare bores into yours, crimson eyes deep, shining with something unfamiliar to you that you realise you want to decipher. 

People like to say that eyes are the windows to the soul, and Veritas Ratio’s was ridden with something that burned like the sun's dying light. 

It’s then that you realise how close you are to him, how his firm grip on your shoulders softens and his touch drifts to hover above your jaw, how he smelled so inviting, familiar and distant all at once, and how his lips were slightly parted, how they looked so soft –

Knocking, at the front door. 

You both tear away, and he stumbles to the front door to collect your delivery. 

You never regret anything more than this moment. 

“Delivery.”

You nod, obscuring your face with your hair as he sets down your meal on the coffee table. 

You’re both back to silence, pleasantries and common niceties as the meal passes. 

Neither of you meet the other’s eye. 

Time ticks away as you finish your food and clean up, wiled away by carefully weighed words and half-met glances. 

He hates it. 

He hates how you were looking at him with such curiosity, and he hates how he let you tease him. He also hates the delivery man for not being delayed by the rain, but he also hates himself for not ignoring the knocks on his front door. 

“I think I should go now.”

Yes, that would be best. “Why? It’s still raining, you could stay.”

“Well…”

He knows your dorm is far from his apartment complex. He knows that you’ll have to trek through the rain, and yet he also knows that if you stay, he won't be able to sleep. He still has images of you – fresh in his mind – to sketch onto the page. 

“It’s no trouble.”

“Okay. I’ll stay the night.”

“You can sleep in my room.”

“But–”

“Don’t argue.”

Somehow, you’re inclined to do as he says. 

Time, like all things, passes too quickly and too slowly all at once. Without time, nothing exists, but with it, it’s all too agonising to live through. 

This is exactly how Dr Ratio feels as he sits at the coffee table, the small space dimly illuminated by a lamp, as the entire apartment is still. You’re probably sleeping, as he reminds himself, tearing another page out of his sketchbook, unsatisfied with his own hand. 

The rain was now tame, a steady rhythm to his never-ending endeavours to capture your beauty on the page. 

Maybe it’s when the charcoal snaps in his hands, or maybe it’s when his lamplight flickers that he decides that capturing life in still motion is helpless – a pointless and impossible venture that can never succeed. 

You’re too deific to fit into a world of his creation. 

What are supposed to be your eyes – painted with fervour, but lacking depth – stare up into the ceiling as he dozes off, charcoal falling from his hand, eyes drooping closed. Slivers of moonlight cut across your painted face as he slumps onto the table, snoring softly.

—

You wake to sunlight in your eyes, blinding and harsh, and realise where you are. 

It all smells like him – that scent that you can’t place that smells good, and a lingering smell of the library with all its papers. It all smells like him, and when you walk into the living room, you find that his own apartment is completely devoid of any sense of himself. 

But when you find him slumped at the coffee table, lamplight still illuminating the space with its curtains drawn and rays of sunlight peering through, he’s obsessed with you. 

You’re unsure what, exactly, to feel. There are abandoned pages scattered all throughout the space, and unfurling one, you recognise your own face staring back at you. 

Each and every drawing is of you – your hair wet, clinging to your skin, you drowning in his clothes far too large for you, or your face painted with curiosity and entrapment. 

It’s you through Veritas’ gaze, and you think that beyond all else, he made you look divine. 

When Veritas Ratio wakes to his papers – all wrinkled and partly torn – sitting in front of him, neatly arranged with a note on top, realisation hits him, but he can only laugh. 

“Veritas Ratio’s greatest fear: eye contact with the person he’s obsessed with. Completely irrational – even though he can draw me perfectly from memory. A shame, really. Looks like you���ll have to invite me over to pose for you again.

So you can get my eyes right, of course.”

written by @atlaswav , published 26th of August 2024

[ilongfor-the-arts]

Tea and Music

Pairing: Marquis de Gramont x fem! Reader

Warnings: smut!, language, mild begging, choking, unprotected sex, use of “good girl”

Summary: Part two of Poetry in Motion! These are the events that happen after Marquis meets our ballerina reader.

Word Count: 6.7k

Read Part one HERE!!!

Taglist: @jiawalker

The limo crushed the small stones under its tires as it drove along the white gravel path. The entire estate was completely covered in trees and green once we passed through the golden gates. I couldn't see the sides of the gate from the car, so I assumed his estate extended for miles.

Not a blade of grass was out of place.

I would have flirted with Vincent sooner if I had known he was concealing a mansion.

Our conversation two nights ago was extremely straightforward. He introduced himself, and I asked him one question before he insisted on speaking with me in person.

His address was on a street I'd never heard of before. I thought that perhaps it was in the Paris slums. His fancy suits and elegant demeanor were just a ruse to convince people he was wealthy.

But, alas, he lives in a mansion. Who would’ve guessed?

As the car approached the large front doors, I tried to hide my surprise. His house was something out of a movie. To take it all in, I had to turn my head completely left and right. It possessed at least three levels. It was made of lovely white vintage brick and black shingles. Two poles supported an enormous balcony on opposite sides of the large double front doors.There were dozens of tall arched windows. The architecture was inspired by the French countryside, but it was elevated to the highest level.

It appeared vintage and loved, but not worn.

“Alright madame, we are here.”

My trance was broken by the posh driver.

“Oh, yes.”

He opened the door for me, offering his hand to ensure that I would not be inconvenienced in the slightest.

I could grow accustomed to this type of treatment.

I hoisted myself up by grasping his smooth palm.

“Have a pleasant visit, madame.”

He spoke with a classy accent. His elegance, however, couldn't compete with Vincent's. The elderly driver jumped back into the driver's seat and began bustling away, rocks crunching beneath the tires.

I cocked my head upwards, hesitant. I could feel nerves brewing within my stomach. The butterflies were flying free. I took a deep breath, steadying my mind.

I honed in on the rustling of the trees, waiting until the butterflies had completely dissipated.

I couldn’t believe I was about to enter the home of a man I had just met.

I knew his name.

I knew he liked ballet.

I knew where he lived.

And, that’s it.

I climbed the few steps leading to the glass double doors.

Should I knock?

No, he was expecting me.

I gently pushed open the door. The hinges didn't creak in the least.

The doors opened to reveal a large room with white marble floors and a double staircase that swirled to the top floor. The banisters were made of gold, the dark wood walls were covered in expensive-looking paintings, and each room was separated by a large, open arch.

“Hello? I’m here!”

The waves of my voice echoed around the large, nearly empty room. I felt dwarfed by the high ceilings.

“Welcome.”

my heart skipped a beat. Vincent appeared out of nowhere, sauntering through the archway on my left, hands in pockets.

He remained silent, waiting for me to break the tension.

“Uh-Thank you for having me… your house is beautiful.”

As the gravity of the situation became clear, my tone became somewhat shaky. Vincent gave a small smile.

“Thank you very much. I have quite a few estates-“

Woah, woah, woah. A few estates? As in more than one?

“But this one is by far my favorite. It’s lavish, and quiet.”

The trees gently rustled. In the distance, birds chirped. My heart was pounding in my ears.

“See? Nothing. No sounds except those of nature.”

My knees shook. Those two previous statements felt like one big, blatant sexual innuendo. I hoped that sex wasn't the sole reason for having me in this lovely estate that just so happened to have no neighbors for miles.

He leaned against the wooden arch, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his dress pants. Vincent furrowed his brow as he observed my concern.

“Please, don’t be worried. I know I was just given the pleasure of becoming your acquaintance. But, I assure you, I possess a sophisticated character.”

The corners of his mouth turned upwards.

“Come.”

He said this as he stepped away from the arch, motioning for me to follow him into the next room.

“I have something I believe you will enjoy.”

I returned his stare. His beautiful eyes shone with warmth. He seemed to have changed slightly now that I was in his house. He appeared to be... more at ease. Neither his gaze nor his tone indicated any discomfort. He was no longer concerned with maintaining any sort of facade.

I couldn't bring myself to be afraid of him.

I smiled.

“Alright.”

My short heels clacked against the marble. As I strolled past him, I captured his familiar scent and was overcome with nostalgia.

The room I entered was significantly smaller than the one prior. Rather than being adorned in paintings, there was merely one green landscape above the unlit fireplace. One wall was entirely covered in wooden shelves, each of which was crammed to the brim. When I looked closer, I noticed that each section was filled with vinyl records. Some are still wrapped in plastic, while others have clearly been loved for years.

“Oh wow! You have quite the collection!”

I exclaimed as I ran my fingers along the spines of various records. Marquis laughed, amused by my intense interest.

“Oh wow!”

I had to use a surprising amount of force to pry one of the vinyls off the shelf as it was jammed into a completely full rack.

“You have the music from Giselle!”

Vincent strolled over to me, leaning over my shoulder to observe what had captured my attention. It was a record, with a lady and man engaged in dance. The lady wore a blouse and bodice, while the man donned tights and a decorated top.

“Do you enjoy this ballet?”

His hot breath cascaded across my face and neck as he inquired. A shiver ran down my spine as I realized he had placed his frame directly behind mine.

“Yes, I do. I was in it a long time ago. And, ever since it’s been one of my favorites.”

“Ah, you were in it?”

I flipped the vinyl to the back, reading each track and reminiscing.

“Yes, I was Giselle.”

“But of course you were.”

I scoffed, dismissing his high opinions of me.

“It really was not that impressive. It was a small community theater, and it was years ago before I decided to pursue ballet professionally.”

“It makes little difference where you do it. I'm sure you danced as well as someone from the Opéra National de Paris. Your talent is just as visible in a small theater as it is in the world's largest.”

I pushed my finger between two vinyls to create a gap so I could slip the record back into its original position.

“You flatter me.”

Vincent dragged his fingertips along the spines. As he did so, I fixed my attention along his veiny digits, my brain beginning to slip into places it hadn't been in a long time. I closed my eyes, forcing my mind to return to the present. Vincent drew his gaze across the records, studying them and searching for a specific item.

“Ah!”

He discovered what he was looking for.

“Swan Lake, another one of my favorites.”

He pulled it from the shelf and began to study it.

“Tchaikovsky's music is a work of art. He manipulates the instruments, allowing them to move in a poetic manner. It truly is unparalleled.”

He cocked his head to the side, meeting my eyes.

“Do you enjoy this ballet?”

He raised his brows, inviting me to respond. I shuffled towards his hot body, nodding.

“Yes, of course, it’s a classic.”

This cover depicted a woman bending over a lake, with a swan at her side. Beautiful blues were used to paint the entire cover.

“One of my dream roles is the swan queen.”

Vincent's lanky fingers pried the record's cover apart, and he slid the vinyl into his palm.

“One day, that role will be yours. I have no doubt about it.”

He handled the record with extreme grace and care. Despite being a large and rather intimidating man, his touch was featherlight. He opened a small cabinet located in the middle of the shelves with his opposite hand, revealing a beautiful maroon record player.

“And when you appear as the swan queen, it will be your role for the rest of your life. The audience will know instantaneously that no performance before or after yours will compare.”

Vincent placed the needle on the record's edge. The sound of a rich oboe filled the entire room. He placed his hands on his hips and viewed the black circle spin in a circle. The atmosphere became cozy and inviting. Despite being in a secluded mansion in the middle of the French countryside, I felt oddly at home. My heartbeat was regular.

Vincent glanced over his shoulder.

“Do you drink tea?”

He inquired.

I was so enthralled by Vincent's lovely figure that I had to shake myself awake when he spoke.

“Oh! Yes, of course. I love tea.”

Vincent unbuttoned the cuffs of his white dress shirt, rolling his sleeves up to reveal lovely veins dancing across his forearms. I gulped, my face growing hotter as butterflies began to hatch within my lower abdomen.

“Would you care to drink tea with me on the porch as we indulge in this lovely music?”

I nodded, unable to hide the grin playing on the corners of my mouth.

“I would like that very much.”

-

Vincent brought out a large silver tray, atop which was a lovely china set with pink flowers and gold stems.

“I would expect a wealthy man like you to have help. Rich men don’t make their own tea.”

I said, my tone slightly mocking. Vincent chuckled, plopping down onto the cream colored cushions.

“I don't usually make my own tea. But I specifically requested that we spend the day alone. The bustle of people detracts from the peaceful energy.”

I put a sugar cube in one of the adorable cups and poured tea on top, watching the sugar break and dissolve.

I picked up the saucer and leaned back, my body relaxing against the plush cushions. I had a fantastic view. My back was to the house, leaving the entire garden open for inspection. The green stretched as far as the eye could see, interrupted only by a few healthy trees. The property had a gray gravel path that twisted and turned. At the horizon, the gentle hill of the land met the flawless blue sky.

The scenery was lovely. I wish I knew how to paint.

My hair was tousled by a gentle breeze. The soothing music wafted through the house, reaching my ears as a mere whisper.

“Are you enjoying the view?”

I closed my eyes for a brief moment, savoring the cozy energy as I sipped my tea. The steaming liquid poured down my throat, warming me from within.

“Yes, it’s beautiful.”

I rested the cup in my lap.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself? I feel like we talk so much about me.”

I said, chuckling slightly.

Vincent sipped his tea while crossing his legs and gazing out at the horizon. His gorgeous side profile was highlighted by the gentle glow of the sun.

“My life is… not very interesting.”

His demeanor had transformed. Instead of being charming, he had become aloof.

“Oh, I’m sure your life is plenty interesting. I mean, come on, this house is ginormous! What do you do?”

Vincent grit his teeth, avoiding the question.

“I made all of my money in real estate.”

He returned my gaze, his fondness restored.

“Oh! That sounds interesting.”

I took another sip of my delicious tea.

“You must’ve gotten extremely lucky.”

He flashed me a tight smile.

“Yes, absolutely. I consider myself extremely fortunate to be where I am now.”

The birds in the distance chirped peacefully, blending with the music to create a cohesive energy that flowed through my being.

“Please, tell me if I am crossing any boundaries with this question.”

I perked up. He had piqued my interest.

“However, you are a very attractive woman. And you are constantly expressing yourself through the arts. I find it difficult to believe you don't have suitors flocking to you at all times.”

I gulped, my gaze fixed on the tea in my lap.

“Well, honestly, it’s difficult to keep a relationship when you’re constantly either in the theater, or searching for your next opportunity. The little free time I have almost never lines up with the free time of others.”

He fixed his gaze on me, listening intently to every word I said. I'd never had a conversation with a man who was so enthralled by me.

“I’ve had relationships, but it's difficult to make them stick. Lately, I’ve kinda given up. It’s stressful, y’know?”

Vincent hummed.

“Yes, I can imagine.”

He sipped his tea one last time, leaning back completely to display his stunning neck. He leaned forward and placed the china cup atop its saucer before assuming his previous position.

"Well, with me, you never have to worry about that, ma chérie." My few important obligations rarely interfere with my personal life. And, if they do, I promise to commit to our relationship and not let it fall through the cracks."

His dedication surprised me. I raised my brows.

“Well, that is very kind of you. I appreciate the reassurance.”

“That is, if pursuing a relationship with me is something that entices you.”

His statement piqued my interest. I suppose I hadn't considered the question, "What are we?" I was definitely interested in pursuing a relationship with him, despite only having become acquainted a few days ago. I felt a genuine connection, and I'd be a fool to pass up this opportunity.

Also, the reality that he was filthy rich drew me to him.

I finished the sweet tea, placing it on the black wire coffee table.

“Yes, I believe I would be interested in that.”

I gave him a genuine smile, which he returned.

“Good, I am glad to hear that.”

He folded his hands and tucked them into his lap, his gaze following. He was deep in thought, as if caught between reality and his thoughts. Vincent came to after what seemed like an eternity. He returned his gaze to mine. His attention had been drawn to a new emotion. He was looking at me with calculating eyes, as if he was carefully pondering what to say next.

This was unusual for him, as he always seemed to know exactly what to say.

“I don’t mean to sound creepy when I say this, but I have been admiring you for a while.”

To be honest, I didn't mind. And I didn't think he was creepy at all for expressing his admiration for me.

“In all honesty, I’m flattered. The way I see it, I wouldn’t put myself on the stage if I was afraid of extreme admiration. I mean, that is kind of the goal of a performer. Y’know, to make people fall in love with the performance.”

Vincent nodded, his smile widening. He was pleased with my response.

“I recall seeing you perform for the first time. It was about two years ago, in Coppélia. You played a minor role, but your beauty captivated me, and the more I sought you out, the more I fell in love.”

There was something sensual about the thought of Vincent admiring me from afar for years. It all seemed so forbidden, him watching me from a box, carefully calculating the best time to ask me out.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you ask me out sooner?”

Vincent shrugged.

“I assumed you were in a relationship. I tried to forget about you, but you were always on my mind. Then I didn't see you at the Opéra national de Paris for a year. My job was particularly demanding at that time. It was best if I concentrated solely on that. So I didn't go looking for you. I assumed that chapter of my life had come to an end. Then I notice you're performing in La Bayadère. And I knew that whatever force governs our universe had given me the opportunity to become your acquaintance.”

I couldn’t stop my face from breaking into a grin. I’ll admit, it felt insanely good to be admired by someone.

“Are you a nostalgic person?”

Yes, extremely.

“Yes, I am.”

“Ah!”

He exclaimed, rising to his feet.

“In that case, I have one more thing I think you would like to see.”

I followed him through the house. If I didn’t have him, I would undoubtedly be lost. Each lavish hallway felt as if it extended for miles. I followed, and followed, and followed. Until eventually we reached a pair of black double doors. They were covered in beautiful flower designs. Vincent turned the golden knobs, pushing the doors open to reveal… a bedroom?

Wow.

It was a nice bedroom, to be sure. The floors were tan wood, and the walls were a dark brown color. A large, black chandelier hung from the ceiling with an expensive crystal thread. The bedframe, curtains, and dresser with a large mirror all looked like they were plucked from the queen's bedroom.

In fact, the whole place felt like it belonged to a king. The gold accents, intricate details, and visibly expensive fabrics all gave me the impression that I was in Buckingham Palace.

Vincent headed over to his dresser, which was located on the opposite side of the room as the bed. He began rummaging through various objects, searching for something.

“Ah! Here it is! I knew I kept it!”

He gave me... a leaflet? No, it's a program. It was the program from my first performance ever at the Opera Nacional de Paris, Coppélia. My eyes shot open.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe you kept this!”

I flipped through it, reading the names and contemplating all the wonderful people I'd had the pleasure of working with.

“Of course I kept it.”

I raised my eyes to him. He smiled, pleased that I had found enjoyment in this little bit of nostalgia.

“Um-”

I began.

“I-I don’t mean to take your memories from you.”

I said with a small laugh.

“But, would you mind if I kept this?”

“But of course! There is no need for me to keep a silly little booklet now that I have had the pleasure of meeting the object of my affection.”

We shared a moment of peaceful, happy silence.

“Besides, if it makes you happy, I'll gladly give it to you. We've decided to pursue a relationship. So, it is my responsibility to do everything in my power to please you.”

His gaze darted to my lips before returning to my eyes, implying something taboo.

His eyes grew dark. My posture became stiff. Vincent took a large step towards me, and I had to tilt my head almost completely backwards to look him in the eyes.

I was hit with a wave of déjà vu. I was no longer on the streets of Paris, but rather in Vincent's bedroom. This time, there was nothing preventing us from delving head first into our desires.

He cupped my cheek, running his calloused thumb over my cheekbone. My breath caught in my throat. My lower abdomen was in knots, more from anticipation than from nerves. There wasn't much that could happen on the dark streets of Paris. But suddenly everything was possible and within reach. All I had to do was reach out and grab them.

“The relationships you’ve been in… have any of them had the pleasure of…”

His voice trailed off, beckoning me to finish the thought.

I gulped, a lump forming in my throat.

“No.”

My voice quivered as I felt overpowered by his pressing gaze.

Vincent tutted crispy.

“Pity.”

He stated, his voice lowering to a sensuous whisper. I envisioned him whispering sweet nothings into my ear while thrusting mercilessly into my tight cunt.

My stomach flipped.

My knees shook.

All of the blood in my body rushed to my core.

Wetness began to pool in my panties.

I adjusted my weight uncomfortably, anticipating Vincent's next move.

He leaned forward, his lips inches away from mine. I desperately wanted to break the tension by pressing my mouth to his, thereby beginning the downward spiral of pleasure. However, my train of thought was derailed when I felt Vincent’s opposite hand glide up my thigh.

I squeezed my eyes shut, sighing in pleasure as his digits swiftly located my clothed clit. He tenderly massaged my sensitive bud. The subtle sensation was utterly euphoric. My head bowed forward, my hands anxiously clutching his white dress shirt.

Vincent jerked my head upwards, forcing my misty eyes to lock with his lust blown pupils.

“You’re already so wet, ma chérie. And I have barely even touched you.”

His velvety accent became 10 times more seductive now that it had fallen an octave.

“Oh, it will be so wonderful to watch you come undone.”

He pressed his plush lips to my jugular, applying gentle kisses to my neck as he continued to draw figure eights onto my clothed clit. I threw my arms around his neck, hanging onto his strong frame as my knees threatened to give out.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to bury my face between your thighs and taste your sweet little cunt.”

I couldn’t handle the erotic tone combined with the featherlight touches to my clit. It was far too much for my touch starved body to handle. needed something. I was ravenous for his mouth, his fingers, his cock. I wanted so badly to be destroyed by him, to be given such pleasure that I fear coming back to reality.

“Vincent.”

I said between heavy breaths.

“Yes ma chérie?”

My jaw hung upon, mouth unable to form coherent sentences.

“P-Please. I need you-I need you so bad.”

Vincent drew back, his lips slamming into mine. Our mouths matched like puzzle pieces. We were so glorious together that I swear I could hear angels singing in perfect harmony.

“What would you like me to do to you ma belle, hm?”

He said in between fiery kisses.

“Make me cum, Vincent, please.”

His tongue slid into my mouth, giving me a fleeting taste of his passion before he quickly yanked it back. I was flustered. Our connection had been severed, and I was unsure as to why.

Vincent grasped my chin, forcing me to keep my head still.

His hair was struggling to remain neat. The single, dangling strand was a great metaphor for his once well-kept demeanor now crumbling before my eyes.

“Beg. Beg me to fuck you. Beg me to make you cum.”

He demanded.

Mt jaw quivered. His hand had retreated from my core and now lay atop the swell of my hip.

“P-Please Vincent. I need you. I need you so bad.”

Vincent narrowed his eyes disapprovingly.

“Oh, ma chérie, I know you can do better than that.”

He placed his lips to mine, swiftly reigniting the flame before suffocating it once more.

“Be my good girl and beg.”

I locked gazes with Vincent, feeling his sexual energy course through my body in waves.

“Please-“

I began, my desire somewhat strangling the words within my throat.

“Please Vincent… Please, I need you to make me cum.”

I brought my palms to his chest, attempting to quickly unbutton his dress shirt. Unfortunately, my hands were far too jittery and the buttons were far too small for me to make any significant progress.

“What exactly do you want ma belle, hm? Tell me.”

His velvety accent wafted through me whenever he spoke, adding to the wetness that had begun to pool in my panties.

“Please, please. I need you.”

Thankfully, the sexual tension had subsided just enough for me to compose meaningful sentences.

“Please, please, I need you. I need your mouth between my legs. I need-I need you to fuck me. I need your cock so bad. Please, please make me cum it’s all I can think about.”

A devious smirk spread across Vincent’s face.

“Why didn’t you ask me sooner?”

He connected our lips, reigniting the raging fire of desire that burned between us. Vincent hoisted me off the floor, his large hands traveling up my short sundress and resting against my ass. He carried me with ease, his hands gentle but his lips aggressive.

Vincent tossed me onto the bed with little regard for tenderness. However, I was barely impacted by the blow, as the mattress quickly suppressed and conformed to my physique.

I lay, my gaze fixed upwards towards Vincent’s lanky frame. The dim yet sensual lights foregrounded the sharp curvatures of his face. His long digits located his top button and he began to leisurely undo his shirt without breaking eye contact.

Suddenly, I became aware that my dress had ridden up my thighs, exposing my evident desire. I grasped the hem, pushing it downwards in a futile attempt to conceal my yearning. Vincent ceased his movements, crawling over the end of the bedframe with haste.

His hand wrapped around my wrist, pinning my hand above my head.

My eyes darted upwards, the breath hitching in my throat as I perceived his close proximity. Vincent’s previously quintessential appearance was slowly dissolving. A few strands of hair had broken loose from their original location and were now dangling aimlessly above his brow. Furthermore, his shirt was halfway undone, exposing his prominent collarbone and somewhat highlighting his toned chest.

“Don’t cover up for me, ma belle.”

He murmured, his sultry accent sending a wave of desire to my lower abdomen. My cunt throbbed.

“I want nothing more than to see every inch of you.”

Vincent lodged his thigh between my legs, his clothed knee grazing against my hot core. I jolted, a wave of heat coursing through my body. My back arched instinctively, mouth falling open as I involuntarily ground my hips against his thigh in an effort to increase friction.

Unfortunately, he revoked his leg before I was able to procure further pleasure. His free hand followed the soft curve of my side, sending shivers down my spine. My body became cold with anticipation. Goosebumps rose along my skin.

Vincent’s calloused fingertips grazed against my clothed clit. Heat radiated from my wet core as I squeezed my eyes shut. My brow furrowed as he began to slowly draw figure eights onto my clit.

“Ah, you are so wet and I’ve barely even touched you.”

His soft lips connected to my jugular, peppering gentle kisses down my neck.

“I’ve thought about this moment for a long while.”

With his hands required to support his weight as he descended, his powerful clasp released my wrist. I entangled my fingers in his silky hair, further ruining his pristine image.

“Although I pride myself on maintaining a certain level of class, I can’t deny that I’ve often thought about how satisfying it would be to bring you immense pleasure.”

He continued to press his lips against my hot skin, his face now level with my clothed breasts.

Vincent leaned back on his knees. He dragged his eyes up and down my frame, running his tongue across his bottom lip. I suddenly felt small under his gaze.

His tender fingertips located the ball of my ankle, and he hastily removed both of my short heels, tossing them aimlessly to the floor. After he had discarded my shoes, he trailed his large palms upwards, caressing my calves, then my thighs. I watched intently as his veiny hands slipped under the hem of my dress. Vincent hooked a finger in the waistband of my panties, dragging them down my legs at a painfully slow pace.

Once I was fully exposed, he assumed a position between my legs. Thankfully, the bed was grand enough for him to lay comfortably.

All the blood in my body had rushed to my core, and I could feel my heartbeat throbbing vehemently within my lower abdomen.

Vincent trailed his moist lips along my inner thigh, gazing up at me devilishly through his lashes as he did so. He was well aware that his teasing behavior was propelling me into a state of lust filled desperation.

When he established that he had prolonged my suffering enough, he hastily buried his face between my thighs. I gasped, throwing my head back onto the opulent pillows. My thighs instinctively clenched around his head, but Vincent’s strong hands pulled my legs apart to free himself.

He flattened his tongue against my clit, taking his time to draw out his movements so as to not supply me with an orgasm too hastily. He was thoroughly enjoying the elongation of my pleasure.

After a brief moment of supplying delicate sensations to my clit, I felt the tip of his finger prod at my entrance. I threw my hands upwards, grasping onto the bed frame, my knuckles quickly turning white.

“Oh fuck!”

I exclaimed, grinding my hips against his gorgeous face.

“Vincent-Vincent your mouth feels so good, holy shit.”

I spoke in mangled cries, not caring to keep my voice down. After all, there was no one around for miles to be bothered by my proclamations.

His middle two fingers pushed into my entrance, thrusting upwards to stimulate my walls.

“You taste wonderful, ma belle.”

He uttered, continuing to fuck me with his fingers throguhout the duration of his praise. Vincent located my g spot. My nails dug into the bedframe, undoubtedly leaving prominent scratches. He took note of my non verbal cues.

Vincent increased the intensity of his fingers. Quickly, the coil of pleasure began to tighten within my lower abdomen. I bucked my hips against his face, but Vincent quickly stifled my movements by pressing my hips into the mattress.

“Are you close?”

He murmured against my clit. The gentle vibrations set my nerves ablaze with white hot desire.

“Yeah, yeah I’m so close.”

I mumbled, my arms beginning to tremble as I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt my orgasm begin to seep into the corners of my brain.

Vincent’s long digits expertly located my g spot with every thrust.

His warm mouth continued to duck and stimulate my swollen bundle of nerves.

The erotic sounds of his fingers fucking my cunt reverberated loudly throguhout the predominantly empty bedroom.

“Then cum for me, ma chérie.”

His endearing words proved to be the last necessary step in reaching my release. The tension that had built within my stomach exploded as I came gloriously all over his face. My back felt as though it had been rammed into a solid brick wall.

My chest heaved, and I found it arduous to supply my lungs with sufficient oxygen.

My eyelids began to flutter open as the movements of both his tongue and fingers slowed. When he removed his digits and mouth, I was overcome with a glorious sensation of complete satisfaction. Both my mind and body succumbed to bliss. I had never before experienced such an absence of disquiet.

Vincent climbed over me, his torso now bare.

I cracked a small grin, my palms flattening against the expanse of his soft chest. His lips shone with my arousal. I trailed my fingertips slowly downwards, halting when I reached his thick leather belt. I began to undo the buckle, however, Vincent caught wind of my intentions. With one hand, he engulfed both of my wrists, pinning them above my head. I gasped.

“Oh, no, not now.”

His gentle lips tenderly kissed the soft divot behind my ear. I took a deep breath, the scent of his pricey, heavy fragrance clouding my mind.

“I have waited far too long for this moment. It would be foolish of me to allow you to furnish pleasure when my desire has been consuming me for years.”

Vincent moved off of me and stood to remove the remainder of his clothes. With a pleasurable whoosh, he pulled his belt from the loops of his formal pants. Subsequently, he removed his shoes and allowed his trousers to gather about his ankles.

He met my stare, the mellow hue of the faint overhead lights collecting within his green irises.

“You look beautiful.”

Once again, the heat from my body began to travel downwards.

Vincent’s boxers were the final article of clothing to be removed. I gulped audibly, as his sizable cock was now standing fully erect.

Holy shit, I thought to myself.

He possessed one of the most winsome cock I had ever laid eyes on. I clenched my thighs together, my cunt eagerly clenching around nothing.

When he had finished undressing, he climbed back over me and our lips met once again. I melted into the kiss, exhaling sensually as I sunk into the plush mattress. Vincent’s hand grasped the hem of my dress, tugging it upwards until I was forced to raise my arms.

Thankfully, the supportive nature of the outfit allowed me to function in the absence of a bra. As a result, my entire body was now fully exposed for Vincent’s piercing gaze.

He discarded the dress and dropped his hips suggestively until his prominent erection pressed against my lower stomach.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, beckoning him to progress further. Vincent shuffled his hips, tip now dangerously close to my aching cunt. But, before he slipped inside of me, he raised a free hand and tenderly brushed a few unruly strands of hair from my damp forehead.

“If you wish to stop at any moment, merely apprise me and I shall cease.”

I gave him a nod, throwing my arms around his neck to provide an anchor. Vincent pressed his lips to my neck, applying a few gentle kisses before sliding his cock into my wet cunt.

My walls stretched, hastily conforming to his rather large girth. My back arched into his solid torso. I inhaled sharply as he buried the entirety of his length deep within me.

“Are you alright, ma chérie?”

His body stilled. I groaned in mild frustration.

“Y-yeah. I’m more than alright. P-please just fuck me already. I-I need you so bad.”

Vincent pulled back. His lips were plush. His hair was disheveled. His cheeks were a bright shade of pink.

His disarranged appearance was a stark contrast to the previously sophisticated man I had met at the start of this afternoon. However, I do consider the duality of man to be a topic of the utmost enticement. There is something captivating about the notion of commencing a relationship with someone who has a secret side that solely you have the pleasure of becoming acquainted with.

Without further words, Vincent began to roll his hips. The slight pain of his cock quickly dissipated to create room for immense pleasure.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head.

“Does that feel good? Hm?”

He spoke with a slight vocal fry. The raspiness of his tone elicited a visceral reaction. I dragged my nails along his smooth back, undoubtedly breaking skin.

He grumbled deep within his chest.

When I didn’t answer, Vincent pulled his face back, blown pupils meeting mine. I gazed at him through half lidded eyes. I found it difficult to ignite passionate eye contact when I was presented with the distraction of his cock expertly grazing against my g spot with every fervent jerk of his hips.

He wrapped a large hand around my neck. My pulse rose to the top of my skin as black spots began to cloud my vision.

“Come on, ma belle, be my good girl. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

I exhaled a shuddering breath.

“F-fuck… you feel so good inside me Vincent.”

I gulped.

“Y-your cock feels so good.”

Vincent’s skin began to sheen with a thin layer of perspiration. The unruly strands of brown hair deepened in color as they stuck to his forehead. I moaned pornographically as the grip on my neck constricted once more. My jaw dropped. The brief lack of oxygen only added to the flurry of incoherent thoughts bouncing around my skull.

“Oh, my, you’re such a good girl for me.”

He gulped, a soft sigh escaping his swollen lips.

“You’re taking me so well.”

The erotic words combined with his smooth accent contributed to the tightening of my lower abdomen.

I was close, dangerously close.

I could feel my body reaching the edge, and I would soon fall into a state of euphoria.

Vincent’s adjusted his hips ever so slightly, his tip now reaching deeper than before.

I instinctively turned my head away. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes as I buried my face into the bed. My brow furrowed. My eyes squeezed shut as I anticipated my release.

Vincent utilized his thumb to reposition my face.

“No, don’t look away. Be my good girl and look me in the eyes.”

I forced my eyelids open, meeting his piercing stare as ever so slightly increased the frequency of his thrusts. Every instinct beckoned me to throw my head back, but I fought the desire. And, I instead kept my eyes fixated on Vincent’s blown pupils that had almost entirely consumed his irises.

“I want to watch you. I want to see your face as you cum all over my cock.”

I gave him a slight nod, indicating that I could hear while trapped in my lustful stupor.

His hand traveled downwards, gently caressing my curves before reaching my swollen clit. Vincent applied gentle pressure, and, with that, I let go.

I kept my eyes fixated on him, allowing my face to contort as it pleased.

Vincent groaned loudly, his cum coating my walls.

He continued to fuck me throguh my orgasm. His movements gradually slowed as the fog of euphoria began to dissipate. My chest rose and collapsed with fervor.

When I deemed it safe to break eye contact, I allowed my eyelids to flutter shut. Suddenly, I became aware of the gravitational pull the bed exerted on my body.

Jesus, I was exhausted.

Vincent removed his cock from my core. However, he remained atop me, tenderly pushing my unkempt hair back to create mild uniformity.

“You may stay here, if you’d like, for however long you wish.”

His voice was as it had been prior to our physical encounter.

I giggled, my mouth breaking into a slight smile.

“Your house is magnificent.”

I met his gaze, his eyes now possessing a tender quality.

“I don’t know if I ever want to leave.”

I said with a scoff.

A smirk played on the corner of his lips.

“Then don’t, stay here for as long as your heart desires.”

[externalmemorycomic]

Image description: A black and white illustration, designed to look like a book cover. On a decorative ribbon, the title at the top reads “External Memory”. A scroll work border of leaves and flowers divides the illustration into three rounded panels. The largest panel is in the center and shows a caravan surrounded by greenery, puddles and potted plants. The two smaller panels beneath it show a cartoon cat and mouse respectively, facing each other. At the bottom is another decorative ribbon with the text “a diary comic by My Murphy”. After the cover follows an 8 page comic. The style is cartoonish and the colours are soft pastels. Page one: An orange cat waves and says “Hello! I’m My.” The cat holds up a white mouse and says “This is Mouse, my girlfriend.” Caption: My name is actually My, but Mouse is a nickname for comic and privacy purposes. Caption: When I started this project, me and Mouse lived on a little island off the Swedish coast. The panel shows a stylised, tiny island with a lighthouse, spruce and birch trees, leaning houses and a little dock with a row boat tied to it. The cat and mouse are standing on the cliffs and a swan floats on the water in the foreground. Page two: Caption: Now we’ve moved to Ireland where we live in a caravan in the middle of nowhere. A small caravan, surrounded by greenery, overgrown trees, rocks, puddles and potted plants. The caravan has two windows and the cat and the mouse are looking out of one window each. Caption: We lived on the island to be close to my family. A ribbon with writing on it separates and labels four characters: “mom”, an ermine, “dad”, a wolverine, “brother”, a marmot and “step mom”, a squirrel. The ribbon has been torn in between “mom” and “dad”. Caption: and we moved to Ireland to be close to Mouse’s family. Three characters are shown, each with their own ribbon label. “mother-in-law”, a deer, “sister-in-law”, a jack russell terrier and “brother-in-law”, a hedgehog. Page three: Caption: Me and the mouse are currently in our thirties. The cat lounges on an antique fainting couch and the mouse sleeps on a cushion on the floor. On the floor is an open bag of “let’s” crisps and a laptop. Caption: We’re both pretty decrepit in various ways, so for this comic I draw couches and beds as often as I draw people. Caption: Disability isn’t especially interesting to me, but if a fish made an autobiographical comic… A fish under water paints a four panel comic with a brush held in its mouth. The panels the fish has painted show bubbles, waves and splashing water. Caption: …it’d probably be partly about water, whether the fish cared about water or not. Page four: Caption: My memory has always been pretty crappy. If a friend asks me: “do you remember when...” The question is shown asked by a red robin Caption: I usually have to answer: “no, I don’t.” The panel shows the cat giving this answer while looking away and blushing. Caption: There are many things in my life I’d like to remember. Mom the ermine watches as the cat opens a Christmas gift in front of a Christmas tree. The cat is much smaller than usual, its tail is bushy with excitement and it holds up a big book, “Mort”, with a skull on the cover. Caption: This comic is my EXTERNAL MEMORY so I can capture some of those moments… The cat admires a butterfly hovering above its outstretched paw Caption: …great or small. Page five: Caption: I try to make one strip per day, give or take. Pages with dates written on them blow off of a daily wall calendar by a strong breeze. As they turn over, comic pages are revealed to be drawn on the back. One comic shows the mouse with long fangs, biting the face of the cat and then hissing behind a bat wing. One comic is a pastiche of Tim Buckley’s “Loss” comic and one features a portrait of Frasier Crane and the Seattle skyline. Caption: and on the days when nothing interesting happens A close up shows the cat’s paw drawing a comic panel. In this panel a smaller, rounder version of the cat runs happily in the sunshine carrying a backpack. Caption: I reach back and draw something from my past. Caption: If you read this comic and wonder: A coyote looks at the comic on its phone, strokes its chin suspiciously and asks “did that really happen?” Caption: the answer is always yes. Caption: If you read this comic and wonder: A monkey reads the comic in zine form and think “did they really say that?” Caption: the answer is usually yes. Page six: Caption: When a specific phrase is the point of the strip, it’s recorded verbatim. The mouse says “you’re marching to the beat of the potato drum.” Caption: is a direct quote. Caption: When the point is something else, I sometimes take small liberties to make the memory fit well inside four panels. The cat sits at its drawing table, holding a pair of scissors in one hand and a paper with two comic panels in the other. Caption: Usually that means I make myself or the mouse play the part of the straight man because it will improve a joke. The cat and the mouse, dressed as clowns, stand in a circus tent. The cat pulls the clown nose from the mouse’s face and holds up a pie, ready to strike. Caption: In reality, neither of us is much of a straight man, but all art demands some sacrifices. Caption: In every way that matters, this comic always tells the truth. The cat looks up at a large, glowing, winged sphinx statue version of itself. The statue and framing is a reference to the all knowing Southern Oracle from the film adaptation of “The Neverending Story”. Caption: I am doing this to aid my memory after all, so it wouldn’t be very helpful to make my life seem more funny, interesting or relatable than it really is. The cat draws a comic while watching paint dry on the wall. Caption: That would be a pretty cruel joke to play on my future, more confused self. The cat scratches its head at a drawing of themselves as the winner of a beauty contest, wearing a sash and crown, waving to the crowd and holding flowers. Caption: She’ll probably have enough to contend with… The cat looks suspiciously at its own reflection in the mirror, not recognising it. The drawing is a pastiche of a panel from the webcomic “Gunshow” by KC Green. Caption: Maybe some of my comics will be funny or interesting or relatable to you anyway. That would make me very happy. The cat smiles and presses its paws to its face in joy, seeing that a bear and a horse are reading the comic together and laughing. Cartoon hearts float over the cat. Caption: Some of the comics probably won’t do much for anybody but me, but that’s okay too. The cat presses a page of the comic to its chest, looking contented and protective. In the last panel, the cat and the mouse are floating on air with a blue sky and white clouds behind them. The cat is smiling and twirling around, holding a paint brush out like a wand. From the brush flows paint that swirls around the two figures and making shapes of green leaves and orange and yellow flowers. On two looping blue ribbons appear the last captions: This is a record of my silly little life. Good or bad, I’m glad I get to share it. End ID.

Here’s a little introduction to External Memory! It was fun to make a proper neat and full colour comic - it’s been a while ^^

(If you like this project, please reblog this post! You can also subscribe to my patreon where I post one comic every day ^^)

[rowretro]

𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧'𝙨 𝘿𝙖𝙮

(thank this song for my return sober<3 and ofc riki!!!)

✧Warnings: Nothing I know of- tell me if there's any warnings

✧Synopsis: Having a crush on someone can stir up your emotions, one moment, bubbling with love, feeling stupid the next, mind invaded with that person, love signals everywhere, it would feel as though you're in a music video. Y/n is almost convinced he's the one, though she didn't think to ask for his name, she's to shy, after all he's way out of her league. Little did she know, Riki too felt the same, Too shy to approach her.

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

Y/n waited patiently, sat on a moss-coated wall her sparkly nails, tapping against the silver case of her phone. it's been a whole 35 minutes since her dear friend Eunchae went in for a date, she was so convinced it would go wrong that she dragged y/n alone just in case. But all y/n could see was her friend smiling and laughing like never before, no red signals. Heck it must be some kind of lover's day, so many couples surrounding her, it's almost sickening. Don't get her wrong, she's all for love, true love, the kind one'd die for, the kind where you can trust someone, the love makes you seem like an idiot.

Y/n pulled out her phone, head down as she connected her Bluetooth earphones, scrolling through Spotify looking for a song she feels like listening to in her playlist. Just as she looked up from her phone, picking a song, she almost fell on her back, gripping on the wall as she stared the small, glowing insect fluttering before her. She had no idea where it came from, the glowing blue butterfly, with black lines painted on it's wings, to created such a intricate design. She turned her head in it's direction, as it flew through a few couples.

Riki parked his car, stepping out of it as he searched for the coupon on his phone. His summer holiday has been nothing but boring so far, a dreading, uneventful month of being woken up early by his Hyung's, doing chores, eating junk and playing video games. Which is why he was out here, yawning, as he pulled up the Papa John's app on his phone. It was a Tuesday after all. As he looked up from his phone, he cussed under his breath, almost falling back against his car's front, as he saw the blue morpho butterfly up close, its wings fluttering away from him. His head turned, a frown adorning his face, but it soon disappeared when he locked eyes with a girl.

Her black hair cut somewhat short, layers flowing out and framing her face, dark eyes somewhat wide, stars reflecting from pupils. Y/n didn't fail to notice those pretty moles of his, one under his eye, just like hers, his lips plump, but his eyes, lovestruck. Never has she ever seen a man like this in these local streets. She frowned as the cars drive past, obstructing their view. Riki groaned, standing by the traffic light. His eye's narrowing at the red light, as he mentally threatened it. His eyes widened as he saw the red stop man move, his hands forming a heart.

Y/n frowned kicked the rock before her, annoyed. One pretty boy, and the polluted roads lost him. Pollution really does do harm after all. She frowned as she stared at the rock she just kicked, it was shaped like a heart. She sighed rolling her eyes, god and his odd ways of sending humans a message through coincidences. She froze in her seat when the bubbles that the kids blew, suddenly formed in the shape of hearts. She's just going crazy. Just in a small distance, between the never ending bubbles, the biggest sign cane walking toward her.

The male himself. Riki had no idea what he was doing, or what he was going to do, but perhaps his hesitation with something as simple as approaching a stylish girl, is what's keeping him from having a fun-filled bright summer. "Hey uhm could you walk me to Papa John's? I'm new here so..." New here? bullshit. He had been here since he was 14. "Uhm it's just there.... where you were earlier...." Y/n said as she mentally facepalmed. Fuck. was he asking her out? "I know.... so would you mind?... I can treat you to some pizza for the burden." He asked again , hopeful and internally screaming, though outside he played it off cool, shocked by how calm he was being.

"Gladly!" She said with a smile. Eunchae can always call her. Plus it seems she's having a blast anyway. Y/n can turn down any pretty boy. A Lee Suho? Han Seojun? but this pretty boy, was worth all her time. So says the world around her, and so says her heart. A small date wouldn't hurt. Riki smiled, staring down at the shorter girl, a smile making it's way to his lips, he so badly wanted to hold her hand in his, talk to her take her on plenty dates. Hopefully he will<3

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

[notapradagurl7]

Thinkin’ Bout You.

BlackFem!/Plus Size Reader x Joey Bada$$.

Summary: You and Joey were roommates in your apartment and coming back from the summer break, he helped you put your stuff up into in your room until he brought up the one-night stand that happened between the two of you on the day before summer break.

Taglist: @henneseyhoe @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @siqueth @caashmoneynae @avoidthings @sageispunk @cvpidvsq @soft-persephone @life-in-the-slut-house @kindofaintrovert @hxneyclouds @meech667 @last-lost-one @lesbiantreehugger @westside-rot @keyera-jackson @euphorichappiness10 @swavydadon @thecookiebratz @kayla-charmanderrr96 @kaywopp @euphoriagrae @blackelysian @playgurlxoxo @planetblaque @myadalastdon @desiresiwant @moihasarrived @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @blackerthings @harmshake @vile-harlot @suckmybigtoe2 @browngirldominion @thecapodomme @daprettycancer @ingeniestrance @roeroe-world @babybratzmaraj @kprivqooo

( Requested by @naj-ay444 )

A/N: don't forget to reblog, comment and like to support your favorite writers.

Warnings: PWP, praise, dirty talk, degradation kink, spanking, straight-up fifth, profanity, erotic asphyxiation/choking, nipple play, facesitting, consensual for both parties, confession. Unprotected sex(wrap it up)

——————

Your deep brown eyes fixed on the brown dresser with your hands steadily moving the small books in place and organizing a few personal items, the subtle grunt from your roommate made you spin on your sock-covered feet. The man walked across the medium-sized bedroom with a box in his hand, the walls surrounding them were painted in sage green and decorated with small framed pictures of art.

“Do you need help with the box JoJo?” You asked in concern, raising your brows at him.

Your black locs were held up a bun, your dark brown skin and brown eyes. Your curvy body, sported a black shirt, sweatpants, and socks that matched in color. Your hands stuffed in your pockets.

You watched Joey carry the last box into your bedroom, he grunted as he lifted the box and your eyes saw his muscles flexing, the moonlight dancing on his dark skin. Butterflies flew in her stomach, your face grew warm from gazing at him.

Jo-Vaughn shook his head and replied, "Nah, I got it. Just trying to be a good roommate and good friend, you know?"

"Well, I appreciate it. It's nice to have some help after coming back from break. I missed our little apartment." You chuckled lightly, your eyes roaming the place.

"So do I, it's good to be back in our domain, I’ll be back shorty, I’m gonna put this box away” Joey mentioned kindly, nodding in agreement.

Your heart skipped a beat as you watched him, your mind racing with memories of that passionate night before summer break. The two of you lived together in the apartment for almost 6 years, it was a comfortable and familiar space.

You worked at your job while Joey was working as well, spent your evenings smoking a blunt or two, shared laughter and late-night conversations.

“Okay, I'll be right here.” You mentioned back to him, leaning against the wall.

But now, as you stood in your bedroom, the weight of that night hung heavy in the air. Would things go back to normal? Could you pretend like it never happened? The questions swirled in your mind, threatening to consume you.

He opened the box and picked the rod and light green curtains, Jo-Vaughn carefully hooked the light green curtains on the sliver pole of her small square-shaped window, gently pulling them apart and closing the curtain.

Jo-Vaughn sported a white tank top with matching sweatpants, and a gold chain swang around his neck. The pants sagged a bit, showing off his boxers.

He thought about that night with you as well, he dicked you down like he had something to prove.

He picked up the empty box and gently folded it thin, walking out of your room. He stepped into the empty room that either of you lived in, setting it down in the back closet, before walking into your room.

Turning his attention back to you. His dark eyes met yours as he walked through the door of your room. The tension hung in the air between the two of you.

“There’s somethin’ I need to ask you Y/N, it’s really important.” He replied in a soft tone, biting down his lip.

“You know you can tell me anything Joey,” You reassured him firmly, having a feeling about what he was going to ask you.

His black locs styled in two-strand twists gradually swayed as he sat down on the edge of your bed, his brown eyes locked with yours.

“Do you remember the night between us at Gemma’s party before summer break?” He asked nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

Your breath hitched at his words, the memories flooding back to you in vivid detail. The way his hands had roamed your body, Joey dicked you down so good, the way his lips pressed against yours, the handprint he left on your ass, You swallowed hard, trying to compose yourself as you met his gaze.

"Of course, I remember," you replied softly, fiddling with your fingernails. Your eyes moved from the floor then back to him.

You paused, your heart racing a bit as you remembered the night they had shared. You cleared your throat, trying to play it cool. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

"Joey, we said we wouldn't bring it up," you reminded him softly, your voice firm yet gentle.

Jo-Vaughn nodded while pursing his lips briefly, his eyes locked with yours again. But he was falling with you, butterflies flew in his stomach whenever he was around you.

“I know, I know but I can't stop thinkin’ 'bout you, the way your body squirmed under me, those pretty faces you've made while I was eatin’ you out and those moans you made, drove me crazy,” Jo-Vaughn admitted, his voice raised an octave.

For the first time, he was speechless and didn’t know what else to say. Jo-Vaughn was tongue-tied every time he was around you. The admission caught you off guard. You had expected him to brush it off, to act like it didn't matter.

As the memory flooded, you could feel the familiar heat pooling between your thick thighs. You tried to push those thoughts away, to focus on the present moment.

“Being this close to you, it’s driving me crazy..” He murmured, moving his locs from his face.

You have a clear recollection of the party night right before summer break, where both you and Gemma were invited and decided to have a good time before embarking on a trip together.

After consuming a few alcoholic beverages while sitting together on the couch, you rose to your feet and seized his hand, drawing him towards you and onto the dance floor. The intoxicating effect of the liquor had swiftly emboldened you.

You used to be reserved and hesitant when meeting new people, and even among those you were familiar with, you only revealed your true character.

The smooth R&B played through the ebony twin speakers, the smell of weed, cologne, and perfume hung in the air, Joey and you found yourselves dancing closely, the heat of the bodies in the crowded room adding to the intensity of the moment. The way his hands moved along your curves, the way his lips brushed against your neck.

The way his eyes bore into yours, pulling him closer to your face, breath fanning across each other's faces, a subtle mix of alcoholic fruity punch and candy.

Your heads leaned in gradually, lips meeting in a soft, yet passionate kiss. The music faded as the connection between the two of you intensified, lip-locking and tongue-kissed you sloppily, his hands roaming down your curves and gripping your ass with your permission.

Eventually, the two of you made your way through the hallways of Gemma’s house, stumbling through the door with drunk laughter and teasing remarks like “I can't believe we just did that" and "I hope Gemma didn't see us."

Once inside the bedroom next to Gemma’s and clothes were tossed out haphazardly. The sound of your moans and the bed creaking fills the room.

“I'm pretty sure she saw you shoving your tongue down my throat,” You replied in a sarcastic tone, chuckling at him.

“Oh? She did? Can I shove somethin’ else down yo’ throat,” Joey teased back, biting down on his lips.

"Is that so?" You smirked, playfully pulling him close. "Well, you'll have to earn that privilege again."

Joey chuckled, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Challenge accepted."

The memory of that night flooded your mind, the way Joey had taken charge and pleasured you in ways you had never experienced before.

After that night, the two of you made your way back to the apartment. Sleeping softly in your bed with Joey, the memories of the night etched in both of your brains. The hangover took over immediately.

Even though you and Joey maintained your friendship and spent time together, you harbored hidden feelings and desired a deeper connection with him.

“I hoped that it wouldn't be weird between us, sex made it worse Joey.”

“I don't just want sex from you, I only want you Y/N.”

He rose from the bed and approached you, maintaining a respectful distance as his gaze traced the contours of your body, lingering on your curves and dips.

You had already crossed the line with him at the party that night, knowing deep down that there was no way to undo what had happened.

"I secretly wanted this to be more with you and I couldn't stop thinking about you either,” you confessed lovingly, her lips forming into a playful grin.

Joey’s grin rested on his face, stepping closer to you, their bodies almost touching. The sexual tension hung in the air, he brought his face a bit closer. His breath fanned across your face, a mix of peppermint and weed.

“What’s stopping you Y/N?” He asked seductively, smirking at the woman.

Your face gradually leaned into his, closing the gap between them, your lips pressed against his, soft and plump just like you remembered. Tilting their heads on opposite sides together, only to deepen the kiss between them.

Wrapping your arms around him as he did the same, his lips were soft against hers, backing away from the wall only to gently plop on her bed, you on top of him which he adorned, he loved how you took control. The kiss ended with a soft smack, his hand roaming up your tank top, feeling no bra underneath.

It didn't block the friction when his fingers tugged at your nipples, “Your nipples are already hard," he whispered, his tongue flicking onto your nipple, wrapping his arm around him.

His plump lips suckling on your nipple while his freehand hand fondled your left breast. Your essence trickling down your thigh to his tip, Joey moaned at the feeling.

Sliding both of their tank tops off and sweatpants, their underwater as well, throwing them across the bedroom floor, now they were out of the way.

His hand roamed between your thighs, “May I?” he asked gently, you nodded quickly, “Yes, baby please..” you murmured, his middle finger and ring finger gently rubbing your wet folds.

You let out a soft moan, feeling your body respond to his touch. Your pussy clenched around his fingers, you needed him inside of you. To feel him again, he was yours and you were his. “You’re grippin’ my fingers already..” He groaned against your neck.

Your hands balled up in the blanket, Joey kissed your neck, collarbone and decorated your dark brown skin with hickeys, his fingers moved in and out of your entrance, and your hips rolled with the teasing pace. he smirked at your reaction. “Jo-Vaughnnn!” you screamed.

“Look at you, pleasurin’ yourself with my fingers. Such a muh’fuckin’ nasty girl, feels good?” He teased again, picking up the pace with his thumb circling your throbbing clit.

“Yes, so fucking good..” You whined softly, pouting in response. His fingers pumping into you at a faster pace, your legs shaking and twitching.

You loved how he stayed in rhythm with each heartbeat, your essence splattered over his palm as he watched it spill, putting him in a trace. “I never stopped thinkin’ bout you, you're always on my mind, Y/N”

The fast pace in his fingers and thumb kept going, guaranteed to make you squirt like the last time. “You make me feel so good,

Your legs almost closed from the intensity until you moaned “J-joey! I-cummin!” you screamed in pleasure, your body plunged between the pillows, and he brought his body weight onto yours. Your breast bounced against his chest, the friction you wanted was there.

“Let it out, lemme have it..” Joey praised through your climax, and whispered in your ear. Licking across your neck and nibbling on your ear. Driving you crazy with bliss.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, bringing him closer to you, his lips suckling on your bottom lip, The pleasure zoomed through your body, and prolonged moans escaped from your lips. “Ohmyfuck! Joey!” Your essence gushed on his fingers, a pool in his palm and on the bedsheets. Squirting undone, wrapping his mouth around where squirted and drank more of you.

A mess that made his dick harden and moaned in response, “Look at the mess you made..” he whispered, rubbing your thighs to help you relax.

Slumping against him, he planted a tender kiss on your lips. “You’re so pretty when you cum on me..” he cooed, letting go of your neck. Withdrew his fingers from you.

You heavily panted from the orgasm and smirked, you crawled away from him, lying on your back on the comfortable pillows, seeing him kneel on the bed. With his dick between his legs, your mouth watered at the sight.

“You missed this pussy baby?” You teased, gently spreading your legs apart. Your middle finger rubbed your clit and moaned softly.

Joey's hooded eyes on you, kneeled on the bed, gripping his length in his hand. He wrapped his hand around your neck,

moaning at his dominance, “Hell yeah, I missed that pussy, I'm comin’ in..” He mentioned, pecking your lips.

Watching him stroke his own erection. Precum pouring out of his tip. He groaned raspily from your pussy clenching. He gently pushed his length between your wet folds, you moaned girlishly from your walls wrapping his dick, inch by inch. “Pussy’s too tight, just for me..” he grunted deeply, pushing his hips.

“Oh.. yes! It’s all for you, that dick is for me right?” You asked while cutting yourself off with a moan, growing wetter by a second.

“Fuck yeah, baby girl..this dick is yours..” He groaned lowly, rolling his hips into you. Smacking your ass while he gripped the other asscheek in his hand.

Stroking into you, hitting your G-spot and you screamed in pleasure. "Ah, Ouu!" You moaned loudly, your nails scratched down his back, smacking your ass with one hand.

His hand wrapped around your jaw, making you gaze at him. The bed creaked under your body movement, his thrusts turned sloppy, "Can't speak, dick got your tongue hm?" he hummed, his eyes on you.

Breathless and trembling, your eyes rolled back but words were caught in your throat. He was plowing into you lovingly, his tip kissing your cervix over and over. “Can't s-speak, dick too good baby..” you mumbled, moving your hips with him.

Your essence gushed on his dick completely and your walls hugged around him, finding a happy home to settle in, you were elated to be with him. “I’m so happy to be yours..” he groaned lowly, kissing you.

Nope, you're not imagining it. He just said it to you, “I f-feel the same way baby,” you moaned in response, and your head fell on a pillow.

Your heart thumped out of your chest and threw your head back. Your voice became raspy, and the passion hung in the room. You were close to your climax, your walls tightened around him again. “Coming!” you moaned in response.

Came undone on his dick, coating him like a blanket and he watched every trickle as he pulled out of you, his tip spurted white and landed on your tummy. “Fuck Y/N..” he groaned, hearing groan your name gave you butterflies, You smirked.

You collapsed beside him on the bed, their bodies still humming with desire. Joey pulled you close, pressing soft kisses to her forehead as they caught their breath.

“I love you Y/N..”

“I love you too, Joey..”

After that intimate moment between you two, it was only right that you suddenly fell asleep peacefully, Joey pulled you close to his naked body and the ceiling fan spun in circles. Taking the darkness around the both of you, your locs hung in front of your face. He smiled at you.

"My girl," he whispered, nuzzling his nose against yours.

As you lay intertwined in the cozy blankets, your bodies wrapped in each other's embrace and your lips gently touching, a tranquil silence filled the air. The outside world slowly slipped away, gradually fading into insignificance as he too succumbed to slumber.

——————

[rafesfuckdoll]

Destined To Be Pt.1

summary: Two best friends Leilani and Katie that bring Y/N and Rafe to earth. The destined duo. inspired from my moodboard!!!

warnings: none!! this is just a introduction into the two moms life before we get into y/n and rafe.

word count: 1.4k (this will be a 4 part fic so it'll get longer sorry yall!!)

Part 1: Beginnings

The summer of 1981 in Outer Banks, with its rolling hills and whispering beaches, was painted in vibrant shades of green and gold. Leilani L/N, with her unruly mane of black curls that seemed to catch the sunlight just right, lived in a cozy house with a sprawling backyard. Right next to it was the house of the Camerons, where Katie Cameron, a girl with freckles speckling her cheeks like a galaxy, spent her days.

Their friendship blossomed from a genuine and innocent place, as two young kindergartners bonded over their shared interests in chasing butterflies and confiding in each other. Beneath the warmth of the afternoon light, they sat under the shade of a venerable oak tree in Leilani's backyard, their little legs hanging over the frayed picnic blanket.

"Katie, you know what I just thought of?" Leilani mused, her eyes glinting with mischief, indicating a mischievous idea forming in her mind.

"What?" Katie responded enthusiastically, her chestnut-colored pigtails bouncing playfully as she eagerly shifted her gaze towards her companion, filled with curiosity and interest.

"We should build a secret clubhouse right here," Leilani declared with all the authority a five-year-old could muster.

Katie's eyes expanded in surprise. "Yes! We'll have a password that no one else knows but us!"

Their adventures became limitless from that moment onwards. Using discarded cardboard boxes and old bedsheets, they built a secret hideout where they stored treasures such as acorns and shiny rocks. At night, they shared their hopes and ambitions—Leilani's dream was to become a mural artist decorating city walls, while Katie's goal was to become a well-known veterinarian who could communicate with animals.

With the passage of time, the strength of their bond intensified and developed. Throughout the challenges of elementary school crushes and middle school drama, they stuck together, their friendship serving as a stable force during the tumultuous years of adolescence. Leilani's bedroom walls were transformed into a gallery of their memories, adorned with pictures of them in DIY Halloween costumes and flashing bright smiles on the annual first day of school.

"You'll always hold a special place in my heart, Leilani," Katie whispered one evening while they were having a sleepover, the light from a flashlight casting a warm glow on their faces.

"For eternity," Leilani responded seriously, solidifying their agreement with a pinky swear.

Changes came with high school, yet their friendship stayed constant. Leilani became a member of the art club, spending her afternoons covered in paint splatters, while Katie thrived in science and math, securing a place on the academic decathlon team. Even with their varied interests, they were always by each other's side, discussing everything from crushes to future college endeavors and beyond.

"Lani, do you think we'll still be friends when we're old?" Katie asked one day, lying on the grass and staring up at the clouds.

"Of course," Leilani replied without hesitation. "We'll be those cool old ladies who still get into adventures."

High school passed in a blur of exams, dances, and late-night study sessions. Leilani developed a love for art that translated into vivid paintings, each one telling a story of her life and friendships. Katie, with her sharp mind, excelled in her studies and dreamt of opening her own veterinary clinic one day. Despite their different paths, they were always there for each other, providing support and encouragement.

After graduation, life took them to different colleges. Leilani attended an art school in New York City, where she immersed herself in the vibrant culture and honed her skills. Katie went to a prestigious university in California, where she studied veterinary medicine with dedication. They kept in touch through letters and phone calls, sharing their experiences and dreams.

"New York is incredible, Katie! The art scene here is like nothing I've ever seen," Leilani wrote in one of her letters.

"And California is beautiful, Lei. I'm learning so much about animals and how to care for them. I can't wait for you to visit," Katie replied in her letters.

Even though they were miles apart, their bond remained unbroken. They visited each other during holidays and vacations, exploring each other's worlds and deepening their friendship. Leilani took Katie to art galleries and introduced her to the bustling city life, while Katie showed Leilani the serene beaches and animal shelters she volunteered at.

Years flew by in a blur of laughter and shared secrets. Eventually, Leilani developed feelings for Theodore, a tender spirit who played melodies on his guitar that resonated with her soul. In Ward, Katie found someone who matched her boldness, a fearless businessman who shared her adventurous spirit.

Amidst the joyous clinking of glasses in honor of each other's forthcoming weddings and the elegant twirls on the dance floor under the shimmering canopy of stars above, Leilani and Katie both had a deep-seated understanding that their paths were about to diverge in a significant way. Savoring lemonade, they lounged on Leilani's porch on a pleasant summer night, listening to the crickets chirping in unison.

"Katie, I've been considering something," Leilani said excitedly.

Katie's raised eyebrow revealed her curiosity, her blue eyes searching for answers. "About what, Lei?"

"I've been contemplating starting a family," Leilani admitted, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of her glass. "And I was thinking... what if we did it together?"

Katie's face lit up with a smile that reached her eyes. "You mean... we plan to have babies at the same time?"

Leilani nodded with excitement. "Imagine, Katie. Our kids could grow up just like us—best friends from the very beginning."

The concept began to grow, developing into detailed plans brimming with optimism and excitement. They imagined their children running through the same backyard where their own adventures began, sharing secrets under the same oak tree that had witnessed their childhood dreams.

After graduation, both Leilani and Katie moved back to the Outer Banks, fulfilling a promise they had made to each other years ago. They bought houses next door to each other, just like their parents had done. Their bond deepened more and more with every passing year, keeping them as close as ever.

Katie, now Dr. Cameron, opened her own veterinary clinic, fulfilling her childhood dream. Leilani, an accomplished mural artist, brought color and life to the city streets with her vibrant paintings. Their lives were busy, but they always made time for each other, their friendship a constant source of joy and support.

It was in the spring of 1999 when their dream was fulfilled. Leilani, with joy in her heart, introduced a beautiful baby girl named Y/N to the world, and just a few days later, Katie welcomed her son, Rafe, with open arms. Together, side by side, they found themselves in the hospital room, each cradling their precious newborns in their arms, their faces adorned with tears of happiness, trickling down slowly, like a gentle, steady stream.

"Katie, it's unbelievable," Leilani murmured, her eyes fixed on her daughter.

"We made it happen," Katie said, her voice filled with emotion. "Our kids are here."

Leilani glanced at her dearest friend, their relationship now spanning to the next generation. "Here's to the future, Katie. For Rafe and Paris."

Katie smiled, nodding. "For Rafe and Paris."

Their children would grow up together, sharing the same unbreakable bond that had defined their mothers' lives. The adventure was just beginning.

Leilani and Katie spent the next few weeks adjusting to motherhood, often calling each other for advice and support. They took their babies on walks through the familiar streets of the Outer Banks, pointing out the places where their own childhood memories were made.

As Y/N and Rafe grew, their mothers' dream of them becoming best friends started to take shape. The two children played together in the very backyard where Leilani and Katie had built their secret clubhouse all those years ago. They chased butterflies, built forts, and whispered secrets under the same oak tree, their laughter echoing the joyous sounds of their mothers' past.

"Look at them, Katie," Leilani said one afternoon, watching their children play. "It's like seeing us all over again."

Katie nodded, tears of happiness welling in her eyes. "We've come full circle, Lei."

Their lives, intertwined from the very beginning, had created a legacy of friendship and love that would continue for generations. As they watched Y/N and Rafe grow, Leilani and Katie knew that their bond would never fade, and their children would carry forward the spirit of their enduring friendship.

The adventure was far from over. For Leilani, Katie, Y/N, and Rafe, it had only just begun.

[angellayercake]

Smudge

Papa Emeritus IV x Reader | NSFW

Warnings: Eating pussy and being sweaty! I wrote this for @ghelullu a while back after being tortured with beautiful Copia drawings one too many times and I have been waiting for a hot day to post it and as today was one of the first actually warm days in the UK i decided it was finally time.

The heat is oppressive even now, laying on your bed in nothing but a damp towel. The insulating walls of the old abbey where you live are doing nothing to protect you from the weather, the old stones soaking up the heat of the day so even inside they are warm to the touch. Somewhere in the back of your clouded mind you think you had plans this evening but even after a chilled shower all you can bear to do is lay down and let your little fan push the stifling air over your sticky skin.

It's only when he knocks on your door you remember to expect him and even though you are unsure you can stand the addition of any more body heat in the room you can't turn him away. You call to him unable to muster the energy to move, the last of it stolen by the ever present butterflies dancing around your insides at the idea of his presence. The heat hangs around him like a cloud. Even he, the man raised in the scorching summers of southern Italy is affected, his grey roots darkened with sweat and his usually stark paints mixing in grey drips from his temples.

Tired and uncomfortable as he looks his eyes still alight when he notices your state of undress, his gaze roaming your flushed skin so intensely it almost feels like a caress. You give him a look in an attempt to quell the desire that is building but even under these conditions you feel yourself swept up in his lust. He begins to strip, peeling off the layers that make him Papa until he is just your Copia nude but for his melting paint.

His advances shouldn't be welcome right now, not when even the cool sheets find a way to stick to your skin but as you take in his heat touched body you find yourself craving him just as much. The curls across his chest dark and dampened clinging to his shape and the glowing flush of fresh perspiration. You should tell him to shower, it would be better for both of you but you lose your train of thought when he kneels at the foot of the bed.

He is conscious as he crawls over you, holding space and allowing the circulating air to come between you. You hold his gaze letting the spark of heat you may actually enjoy ignite as he closes the space between your lips. It’s odd, this maintained distance, if necessary; you struggle to ever remember an encounter where you weren’t pressed as close as your bodies would allow. And yet his distance now feels as intimate as your habitual closeness.

The press of his lips is slick and salty when he licks into your mouth and encourages you to do the same with a deep groan as your tongue slides against his. The heat of your mouth doesn’t content him for long though as he indulges the urge to taste every inch of you in lieu of his body flush against yours. His paints leave a map on your skin of his progress, smudged lip prints getting less distinct, the sharp black shapes to light grey smears in a gradient down your body. He settles between your legs, the only point of contact a firm hand gripping your thigh and his hot breath against your core.

Holding your breath is the only reasonable action in this moment waiting for him to take his first taste but just as you think he is about to close that distance his mouth finds your inner thigh. He grazes you with his teeth, worrying the already heat sensitive skin until you are writhing. Your fingers find his hair when you reach your limit no longer giving him the choice and when his tongue tentatively touches you you are lost.

It is lazy the way he works you over with the slow grind of the bridge of his nose, his attempts to taste every part of you with his dexterous tongue and his infuriating soft sucking pulling you further and further from reality into a sweltering haze of pleasure where only the two of you exist. You are caught in his half lidded eyes as lost in your bliss as you are. It’s hard to distinguish the heated air from the almost overwhelming heat building with your climax as they work together to scramble what little rational thought you have left. The lack of his touch makes you feel almost adrift so when a hand crawls its way up your body to massage your breast, palm rough against your hard nipple, it’s the grounding you need to let yourself go.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, an unconscious threat to keep him exactly where he is greedily swallowing down the fruits of his labours with a moan that vibrates through you. Your whole body resonates with your pulse and you try to remember how to breath again. He eases back on to his knees sensing your need for some space and giving you the opportunity to appreciate the debauchery written all over him. His chin and cheeks are entirely clear of his paints, both of your sweat and your slick wiping him clean. The lamp light catches in the beads of sweat decorating his body your visceral reaction to taste him taking you by surprise.

His cock lays thick against his thigh, the gathered precum making your mouth water but as much as you wish to tease him to hardness you suspect that he might have hit his limit for the day. Somehow you manage to kneel next to him, wanting so badly to pull him close and bury your face in his chest but already knowing you will regret it. He knows what you need, as he always does, sensing your need because he takes your hand and encourages you off the bed. Only when you are both steady on your feet does he pull you closer, gifting you the soft press of a kiss to the back of your hand.

‘Shower with me?’ His voice is rough but happy, his tired smile bleeding into his words and you realise these are the first thing he has said to you today. With your hand still in his he leads you back into your bathroom. In the mirror you take in the pleasant mess he has made of your body and the tired look of pride on his face as he regards you just the same. The air begins to chill as the cool spray fills the stall and reluctant as you both are to wash away the evidence the siren call of reprieve from the heat is too strong.

It is easier like this to stand the skin to skin contact you always crave with him. Allowing yourselves gradually closer as the water cools you in increments until you can stand to be in his arms and you can relax. Washing can come later, for now you enjoy being close, face pressed into his neck where the water hasn't managed to wash away the scent of him.

The time is short, or as long as your ancient water tank allows, but for now at least you can both relax.

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

Finding Masterlist here

Summary: After a failed engagement, you move back home and reconnect with your friends. Maybe, just maybe you can find love with someone you never expected.

Pairing: Yoongi x F. Reader

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Swearing, Cheating (Not Yoongi), Fighting, Unprotected Sex, Protected Sex,  Toxic Past Relationship,

Genre: Enemies(?) to Lovers, Neighbors to Lovers, Small Town romance. Hurt-Comfort, Slight Angst, Romance

A/N: The first few chapters will be just plot. Smut lovers need to wait until chapter 5. Also, a couple of readers that wanted to be tagged I couldn't tag you. Your name wouldn't pop up for me to click on.

“Last box,” Hobi said, bringing in the last of your belongings and placing it on your kitchen table that you pulled out of your parent’s dusty storage unit earlier in the day. 

As much as you love Hobi, you couldn't live with him forever in his small two bedroom apartment anymore. Jungkook had texted you about a house that he had recently renovated on a plot of land that they owned near the neighboring Tannie Farms. He had offered to rent it to you before putting it out there for the public. He said he would rather have family in it and not some stranger that he can't trust.  You quickly accepted his offer and started packing your clothes the same day. Hobi begged you to stay a little longer, but you know that you were holding him back. Your social butterfly of a best friend started to cancel plans and dates to stay with you because you wanted to become a hermit and not leave your bed. It wasn't fair. You wanted him to happily live his life, and you knew he wouldn't if you were still there.

Your mother and father, thankfully, offered to let you raid their garage and storage unit for anything that you wanted to take for your new home. It was mostly junk that they were glad to get rid of. This way, they didn't have to worry about how they were going to throw it away. You came away with an old dark oak table and a couple of matching chairs that both wobbled a little bit. You are going to need to shove something under the legs to stabilize them. You also took a lumpy couch that used to be white in color but has since turned a dingy gray color after being stored away for so many years. Your old mattress from high school that you're almost positive will kill your back but is better than sleeping on the floor and a dresser whose drawers won't open without a fight. You did, however, pass on a large area rug due to the fact that it smelled like something had died in it.  They weren't the best, but it was better than having nothing at all. You'll be able to save up for better furniture later for your new house at a later date.

The two story white farmhouse with black rustic looking shutters was absolutely beautiful, and you fell in love as soon as you saw it. It was tucked away on a back road that was pure dirt several miles out of the main town square where it sat on perfectly manicured green grass. The wrap-around porch was decorated with various potted flowers, both big and small, in a range of beautiful colors. Large black solar powered lanterns lay scattered along around the perimeter of the dark wooden porch that emits a warm glow after sunset, setting a cozy and welcoming atmosphere.  A large porch swing sat on the back of the porch has a perfect view of Tannie Farms in the far horizon where their crops seem to go on forever. Where the stalks of corn sway in the breeze around the various tractors and other farm equipment that sat in their cornfield. It was a picture-perfect view.

The house itself had large floor to ceiling windows with french doors that have matching black trim all encased in brand new white siding. Inside, the new hardwood floors and freshly painted beige walls were perfectly clean and crisp looking. He was able to give it the perfect blend of modern and cozy at the same time. However, the best part was the quiet. It was so serene and peaceful that you were afraid that the silence might scare you after being away from it for so many years. You never got to have serene or peaceful when you lived in the city in a busy apartment complex along the main street of a popular area. Sirens, honking cars and yelling were a part of your everyday life. After a few months, they just became background noise that blurred into your daily life. Changkyun also always preferred to have friends over at all hours for drinks and music. He didn't care if you needed to sleep or if you had to get up early. He only cared about impressing his friends. You couldn't even complain, or it would start a fight. He told you all the time that you were not on the lease, so it wasn't your decision. It was miserable, and looking back, you don't know why you stayed as long as you did. 

There was, however, just one thing that Jungkook seemed to have forgotten to tell you about until after you had signed the contract and handed it back to him. That your one…singular neighbor, who you also have to share a large driveway with happened to be Min Yoongi. You thought it was a well thought out move on his end. Kook said that you wouldn't even see him since he is pretty much at the farm most of the day. It didn't really help put you at ease, but it didn't scare you away either.  It was time to grow up and move forward. Like Hobi has said. You were adults, and it's time to put all the bullshit away.

“Coming through,” Jungkook called out as he and Tae came through your door carrying your super old double mattress from high school.  

They head up stairs carrying it above their heads as you follow behind them and enter your bedroom. They toss it on the floor, and you can see a cloud of dust fly out of it. The particles linger suspended in the air. You'll have to figure out how to clean it later.  The guys look at each other and then around the bare room in confusion. You ignore them and push the mattress into the corner of your room with your foot and give them a smile. 

“What?” You ask them as you watch them as they continue to look around the barren room. “What's the matter?” 

“Don't you have a bed frame?” Tae asks, scratching his head.

“Or a box spring?” Kook added a second later.

“No, I didn't see them earlier. I think my mom might have gotten rid of them. It's not a big deal. I’m just happy I don't have to sleep on the hard floor or the lumpy couch,” you say with a shrug. Down stairs, you hear a crash and something break.

“I'll buy you a new one,” Joon called up the stairs.

You sigh and head back downstairs to see what your loveable but clumsy friend broke. Thankfully, it was just a vase used for decoration that you had bought on sale and held no sentimental value. Shooing him away from the mess, you take over the clean-up carefully, avoiding cutting yourself of the sharp shards of colorful glass. 

You couldn't be more thankful for them than you already were. You were thankful for Jin when he dropped off dinner for you since you haven't gotten geroceries yet. You were thankful for Jungkook for offering you the house.  Also, for everyone else who helped you move things from your parent's storage unit and garage to the house doing all the heavy lifting for you. You really did love them. They were here. They never gave up on you. 

“Are you going to be okay here alone? What if it's haunted?” Hobi asked, giving you wide, scared eyes. “You can always stay one more night with me if you're scared. You know I don't mind.”

“It's not haunted,” Jungkook said, rolling his eyes.

“Besides, she’s not completely alone,” Jimin said, looking at you with a knowing smirk and a wink. “Yoongi is just right over there.”

You curse yourself for letting it slip to Jimin one drunken night bar hopping in college that you may have found Yoongi attractive. You distinctly remember him and Kook playing darts in one of the darkened bars that your group frequented. You remember the way he bit his lip in concentration as his fingers held the dart, his dark hair falling over a red headband around his forehead.  You just blurted it out loud without thinking as you sat with Jimin at a little table against the wall. The little shit never let you live it down when the two of you were alone. You are actually surprised, though, that it still seems to be a secret between only the two of you. You guess you can be thankful for that.

“I'll be fine,” you tell him, dismissing his concerns. “You guys can go. I have the first day of school tomorrow, and I need to get things around.”

Namjoon had agreed and helped round everyone up by the kitchen door. After a round of goodbyes and thank yous, you waved from your kitchen door as they dispersed. Kook, Tae, and Jimin went next door to Yoongi’s and the others left in their cars.  You collapsed on your lumpy couch with a sigh. Closing your eyes,  you tell yourself you'll unpack tomorrow. Laying there, you take in the quietness of the house.  It was something that you would have to get used to. There was no extra body puttering around and making background noise. No, Hobi, singing early in the morning as he got ready for work. Just the hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock were the only things that could be heard. For the first time, it was just you. You had never lived alone, but you felt excited to see how you were going to do. It was going to be a welcomed new adventure, and you couldn't wait to see how you'll do.

You stand on the sidewalk in front of the school with your students smashed together in a yellow square that was taped off just for them as you waited for their parents to pick them up. Your first day of school went surprisingly well for the most part. When Joon found out you were back in town for good, he offered you a teaching position at your old elementary school where you had once attended. The exact same one where Jin and Hobi became your best friends. Where Jin shared his sandwich with you when you forgot your lunch in the third grade. Where you had to beat up some little boy for making fun of Hobi's shoes when you were six. You don't even remember his name now, but you gave him a bloody nose, and your dad had to pick you up early. It was a lot smaller than what you remembered. It always seemed so big when you were younger and playing on the playground, running around laughing, playing tag. When you all were so innocent and free back then. 

You were initially excited that you didn't have to job hunt in the surrounding school districts, but you went into panic mode when Namjoon dropped the bomb on you. It was for Pre-K. You never taught such young kids before. You always had fourth graders in the past. Ten year olds. Ten year olds who could, for the most part, listen when they wanted to and take care of themselve. They didn't need to be taught to walk in a straight line or to raise their hand if they needed something. They knew how to zip their coats, put on gloves, and tie their shoes. These were some things that you never thought about having to teach, but yet here you were.

You didn't know anything about four year olds. All that you knew was that they were loud and sticky, and their bathroom habits were iffy at best. Thankfully, Joon, pretty much did your entire months worth of lesson plans for you, mostly to bribe you into saying yes to his job offer. All you had to do was follow his directions until you got the hang of it for yourself. Coloring, writing their name, singing, and dancing it all seemed pretty simple. Seven hours of playtime, easy, peasy. 

Not quite. A few things you learned today were that they like to run and you need better antiperspirant. Do not..... repeat..... do not wear heels again. No matter how short you think the heel is….it's still too tall. You will need to buy several pairs of comfy flats and tennis shoes.   Always do head count because you might have thought you lost one child between the art room and your classroom. Turns out he was just hiding under a table in the corner of the room. However, when it was all said and done, there were no tears from either you or the kids. You will take it as a win. 

“Bye, Jae,” you say, waving at your last student that was picked up by her parents. You let out a sigh of relief as you watched them walk away as she held their hands, skipping between them. Good riddance, and now you get to do it all again tomorrow.

“Y/n,” a voice said your name, making you turn toward it. You smile slightly when you see the school’s music teacher standing behind you. 

“Yes, can I help you…” You trail off, clearly not remembering his name.

“Shinwon,” he said, holding his hand out for you to shake. You politely shake his hand and look at him expectly. “I just wanted to check in and see how your first day was. I know a new school and new city can be intimidating.”

“Oh, no,” you say, shaking your head. “I grew up around here so…not new. I know this place very well.”

“Oh,” he said with a surprised smile, and he tilted his head to the side like he was amused. “I was going to offer to show you around our little sleepy town, but I guess you know it better than I do, huh?” 

“Yeah, I guess,” you say with a shrug and look around, trying to find a way to get out of this conversation when you spot Namjoon, who was walking to his car. When you finally catch his attention, he just waves at you happily before getting into his car. You think you see him laughing. Jerk. 

“Well, then maybe you can show me some hidden gems around here,” he says and hands you his phone. “Here, put your number in, and I'll text you mine.”

You take his phone and input your information very reluctantly. You consider giving him a fake number, but that would probably make things super awkward later. You hand it back to him, and he smiles brilliantly at you, his perfect teeth on display. You watch as his fingers fly across the screen before he looks back up to you.

“I sent you a text,” he tells you. “Maybe we can hang out someday. We could possibly go into the city and do something?”

“Listen, I just got out of a relationship,” you started to tell him, but he cut you off.

“No, problem,” he said, still smiling. “It doesn't have to be a date. We can do something just as friends. Friends have dinner all the time. Maybe we can even see a movie one night.”

“Maybe, if I can find the time,” you say with a tight smile. “I should go, but it was nice meeting you.”

You turn on your heel and quickly walk away as fast as your aching feet can carry you, leaving him standing there alone. Yup, definitely tennis shoes from now on. You will be able to keep up with the kiddos better and, more importantly, run away from men faster. Perfect.

Getting out of your car, you grimace as your aching feet hit the hard cement of the garage floor. You didn't mean to slam your car door so hard as you begin to limp and waddle your way up to your house in a desperate need to soak your feet in your tub. You can almost sigh in satisfaction at the thought of the hot water surrounding you as you lie there in the clawfoot tub until your fingers turn pruny. As the hot, steaming water relaxes your muscles, taking away the ache from your feet as you drop a bath bomb that fizzes while listening to music and maybe…probably drink some wine. 

“Bad first day of school?” You recognize Yoongi's voice behind you, causing you to freeze. You're embarrassed that he caught you walking like an idiot. 

“No,” you answer truthfully as you give him a surprised look when you turn to look at him.

“It is the first day, right?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you before popping the hood of a side-by-side that sat on his side of the driveway. “Joon mentioned something about it yesterday.”

“Yeah, umm… it was pretty good. I might have a blister and an unwanted admirer, but hey, no one stuck anything where it didn't belong. So, good day.” You explain not expecting the conversation to go much further.

You were surprised when he actually started laughing. You don't think you have ever made Min Yoongi laugh. It was a good look on him. You wouldn't mind if he did more around you.

“Please tell me it's not some single dad?” he asks once he stops laughing. He uses the wrench in his hand to tinker around with mechanical things that are beyond your knowledge. You can drive a car but that's about it. You just pray that you never get a flat tire in the middle of nowhere. Triple A is a thing, right? 

“Worse, the music teacher. He offered to show me around town,” you say with a nod of your head. “Like what was he going to show me? Jin’s cafe?” 

“I mean. We do have a new hardware store in town,” he informs you while he concentrates on his task. “Maybe he can show you where the screws are.”

A small silence falls between the two of you as you look around in contemplation.

“Is that..” You start but pause for a second, and you feel your face heat up. “Is that supposed to be sexual?”

“I don't know what you are talking about,” he said innocently and smirked at you as his eyes met yours through the fallen blonde hair in his eyes. He shakes it out of his vision and continues with his task.  You shake your head at him, limping and waddling your way up the stairs to your house. “Wait, I have some of your mail. Let me go get it.”

You lean your hands against the railing of the porch as he disappears in his house. You take turns lifting each foot off the ground behind you and giving it a little wiggle, hoping to find some sort of relief. He better hurry because all you want to do is sit down. You continue your little foot routine when you hear the squeak of his screen door open and Yoongi walks across the driveway to you. Reaching up, he hands you a singular piece of mail over your railing that you take from him, and he retreats back to the side-by-side. You sigh in annoyance when you see what he gave you.

“To the current resident….” You say loudly. “Do you need to lower your cable costs? You really felt the need to give me this junk mail?”

“It would have been a federal offense if I hadn't,” he answered while not even looking at you. 

“Well, thanks,” you say sarcastically and turn back toward the house. You pull out your mess of keys that jingle and jangle with too many keychains as you unlock your door. 

“Y/N,” Yoongi calls out again, making you look over your shoulder at him once again. “I would have helped…you know….yesterday when you moved in. I just figured that you wouldn't want me there.”

That made you feel horrible. You felt like a horrible human being who is still acting childish over some weird grudge from college. If what Hobi said was true, it was only one-sided on your part. Your shoulders slump just a little bit before you turn back to him once again. His hands are fiddling with that wrench looking a little nervous as he tries not to stare at you for too long. The wrench makes quite the clicking sound as he turns it over and over again as he twirls it with his finger. He glances up at you quickly before turning his eyes back to the silver tool in his hand. 

“I appreciate it,” you tell him as you tap that piece of junk mail on the palm of your opposite hand just as nervous. “Maybe, if you want to, that is. Maybe we can start over again and actually try to be friends for once.”

“Yeah, sure, sounds good,” he rambles, agreeing with you, trying to nod his head nonchalantly. “Hey, are you going to help out at the Farmers Market again? The guys think you will bring more business in.”

“I highly doubt that, but yeah, I can come and help again,” you answer with a nod of your head. “Have a good evening, Yoongi,” you say with a small smile on your lips.

“You too,” he says, eyes watching you until you unlock the door.

Finally, getting into your house, you close the door and lock it behind you. You reach down undo the straps of your shoes and proceed to kick them off with a careless fling of your foot, not caring where they land as you hear them hit the floor with a thump. You waddle your way to that old dirty couch and flop down unceremoniously with a groan. You think your aching feet hurt more now than they did in the heels. Your nice hot bath with your wine and the bath bomb is going to have to wait until you get enough motivation to stand up, and that might not be anytime soon. You might have to put off unpacking one more day. 

You turn your head and look out your living room window. You can see Yoongi with the top half of his body bent over and working away on the vehicle on his side of the driveway. You never thought in a million years that you would be friends with the cute, popular basketball player turned handsome neighbor. You smile a little as you continue to stare at him, and you think you might feel a little fluttering in your stomach. You're going to have to squish those butterflies. That flapping, flitting feeling that you haven't felt in years makes your body tingle in excitement.  Your heart was not ready for that feeling. It wasn't ready at all. 

Tagged Readers

@mar-lo-pap, @bontensbabygirl, @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs, @redragdoll, @svnbangtansworld,

[vilebird]

FUNERAL AFTER A NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCE

a painting of a pale sky and bright blue sea crashing onto dark rocks and foaming. it's oriented the right way. - Day, by Frederick Judd Waugh

"and the man looks me in the eyes and he points to the blue-orange vault over heaven's gates and he says the face of everyone you miss is up there and i know i know i can't see them but i know" - And What Good Will Your Vanity Be When The Rapture Comes, by Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib

"i've cut myself off. i can feel the place / where i used to be attached. it's raw, as when you grate / your finger. it's a shredded mess / of images. it hurts." The Door, by Margaret Atwood

"i found you / i found the door / but when i stepped through / there was no floor" I want you, by Mitski

a still from a video of a bright setting sun against a dark orange sky and dark blue sea, with the caption "don't cry" - The Green Ray (1986)

"i feel dead. / i feel as if i were the residue of a stranger's life" - The Lost Pilot, by James Tate

"the shuddering moan of blood, a song to calm the sacrificial, the loss across the river. the way a dying animal will look at you is seared into me. we tie together and all over again." - i cant remember what this one is sorru

"i am feeling numb. it's a curious feeling, and i get it all the time. my attention to the world around me disappears, and something starts to hum inside my head. far off, voices try to bump up against me, but i repel them. my ears fill up with water and i focus on the humming inside my head. / i am inside my skull. it is a little cave, and i curl up inside it. below it, my body hovers, unattached." - Madness: A Bipolar Life, by Marya Hornbacher.

"-though we're dry and waiting. part of me died here so another could go on. the body i raised-" - When They Say you Can't Go Home Again What They Mean is You Where Never There, by Marty McConnell

text: "there'll always be a few things / maybe several things/ that you're gonna find / really difficult to forgive" image: a black silhouette of a minotaur sitting on top of a pale pillar rising out of a pale maze, looking out at an orange sunset over an empty desert beyond the walls of its maze. the text is black letters on white pasted in strips over top. - Up the Wolves by the Mountain Goats and Minotauro by Jordi Garriga Mora. collage put together by @scatterghosts

"i know there are things i haven't survived." - Lord of the Butterflies, by Andrea Gibson

"it seems to me that the dead only return for love or for revenge. who did you come back for?" - White is for Witching, by Helen Oyeyemi

a painting of a bright white bird on a background split between dark blue and black - Promised Land (2013), by Michael Creese

"and with or without your support, i will continue / what im trying to say is you never know what you've been through / til you pause and cough it out" - Cough It Out by The Frontbottoms

"painting all the mirrors black / i won't see you staring back / i'm getting lost forever / searching in the broken glass / trying to ignore the past / and put myself together" - Mirrors by 8 Graves

"saint calvin told me not to worry about you / but he's got his own things to deal with / there's really just one thing we have in common: / neither of us will be missed" - Saint Bernard by Lincoln

"so many bright lights to cast a shadow / but can i speak? / well, is it hard understanding / that i'm incomplete?" - Famous Last Words by My Chemical Romance

"being in a completely normal nonthreatening scenario & environment and thinking 'i have GOT to get the fuck out of here' with the intensity of some trapped neurotic prey animal" - tumblr post by user @greelin

"but you know me / what can't i conjure into hysteria / and longing? / any place is a funeral as soon as i get there. / of course i'm the disaster / but you're the one foolish enough / to learn my name." - The Next Time We Talk on Facebook, by Clementine von Radics

"if your wounds are still open, trust / they are the doors to an answer, / and walk through." - You Better Be Lightning, by Andrea Gibson

text: "what a tremendous thing to learn from" image: black text on white strips across a blue-orange gradient - i forgot this one too sory

"when the body remembers, it bucks wildly / when we try to heal, the phantom smell returns / while in the shower, you break down / while you wash your body you realise it is not your body / and at the same time, it is the only body you have" - Bless the Daughter Raised by a Voice in Her Head, by Warsan Shire

"that was the thing. you never got used to it, the idea of somebody being gone. just when you think it's reconciled, accepted, someone points it out to you, and it just hits you all over again, that shocking." - The Truth About Forever, by Sarah Dessen

"the spirit is so hurt / it don't know the / body / it / looks in / the mirror / and asks, who is it?" - On/My/Aging, by Carolyn Marie Rodgers

"could we sit together in new bodies, shoulder to tender / shoulder, / the lovely and the thorned, the bitter and the failed, / the grave to the left of us, the sea to the right?" - 8, Always a Rose, by Li-Young Lee

"the fact of the matter is / you survived, / it's what you do. / death and you / walk side by side / all sigh and scythe / you stay alive. / and you have the right / but struggle to believe. / you're still allowed / to be alive. / it feels inappropriate." - It's What You Do, by Lena Oleanderson @lena-oleanderson

a painting of a bright orange sky at sunset, sun nowhere to be seen, over a pale sea crashing onto dark rocks and foaming. it's oriented upside down. - Night, by by Frederick Judd Waugh

[queenshelby]

The Basement (Part One)

Pairing: Dark Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Dub-Con, CNC, Smut

It was a Thursday evening when you found yourself standing amidst the artfully crafted chaos of your new exhibition opening in Dublin. The scent of expensive cologne and the hum of excited chatter filled the air, accompanied by the occasional clink of glasses raised in celebration.

You had been working there for a year now and your heart raced, palpitating with the anticipation of meeting your favorite actor tonight who was said to appear at the event according to one of your acquaintances and fellow artists. 

As you surveyed the crowd, you couldn't help but feel giddy at the thought of finally meeting him. It was a dream come true and you wanted to shake his hand, look into those icy blue eyes, and express how much his work meant to you ever since you began watching him in Peaky Blinders. 

But the crowd seemed to grow thicker, and you began to lose hope of getting close enough for a proper introduction.

That's when you saw him standing across the room, wearing a black suit. His slightly greying hair framed his face like a soft halo and those striking eyes were unmistakable, even from meters away. And then there was his smile, slightly crooked, as if to suggest a naughty secret just waiting to be told.

The moment your eyes met, he locked onto you, his gaze penetrating straight through to your soul.

He had obviously noticed you starring at him like some obsessive little girl, unable to take your eyes off his enticing form.

It was a strange feeling, being seen by him like that; it felt like he could see right through you, past every layer of facade you hid behind.

Taking up the courage to introduce yourself to him, you carefully made your way over to where he stood.

"Hi, I'm Y/N," you offered hesitantly, holding out your hand in greeting. "I work here and I am a huge fan of your work," you quickly added, hoping to sound professional enough for the occasion but failing miserably in doing so.

Cillian took your hand gently, his touch sending goosebumps racing up your arm. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Y/N," he said warmly, his voice deep and soothing. "I've heard great things about this place. It's truly inspiring work," he complimented, gesturing towards the stunning art pieces surrounding you both.

You blushed at the praise, feeling butterflies flutter in your stomach.

"Are you one of the collaborators?" he then asked and you nodded awkwardly. "Yes, I do the photography," you answered shyly, pointing to a series of surreal landscapes adorning the walls nearby. Cillian's eyes widened with genuine interest upon seeing your work hung proudly beside the paintings of renowned artists.

A gentle smile crept across his lips as he studied each image intently before offering a genuine compliment. "Beautiful," he murmured softly, looking up at you with admiration in his eyes. "I can only imagine what inspired you to create such ethereal visuals."

Your cheeks turned a rosy pink, your nervousness intensifying under his praise. "Thank you," you stammered, struggling to muster the confidence to continue speaking so you took a big sip of your wine instead. 

Cillian smiled down at you encouragingly, watching you as you nervously toyed with the hem of your dress. "How long have you been working here?" he asked conversationally, moving closer to you.

"About a year now," you replied, taking another swig of your drink. The alcohol gave you a bit more courage to speak freely while he reached for another glass of wine from the waiter walking by and handing it to you. 

"And do you enjoy it?" he then questioned, turning back to you with curious gleam in his eye.

"Working here? Well, sometimes it feels a bit overwhelming, but yes, I do," you admitted truthfully, shrugging sheepishly.

"It looks like a lot of hard work goes into it," he acknowledged, nodding appreciatively.

"It does but it is fun too. I get to meet a lot of interesting people, like you," you responded, smiling nervously.

Cillian chuckled quietly, his eyes crinkling in amusement. "Well, I don't think I am that interesting, but thank you," he said as he leaned in closer, his hushed voice.

"Well, I think you are and you are, uhm... well I really liked you in Peaky Blinders," you stammered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.  "Tommy has this kind of darkness about him and it is very attractive I think," you laughed self-consciously, suddenly realizing how much you had to drink.

Cillian's eyes sparkled with mischief as he grinned knowingly. "Oh, so Thomas Shelby is attractive to you, huh?" he teased, his voice dropping low and seductive. "Well, I guess I should be flattered then, shouldn't I?"

"I didn't mean it that way!" you gasped, shaking your head suddenly. 

"No?" he drawled, his tone dripping with teasing malice. "What exactly did you mean, then?" Cillian wanted to know. 

Your cheeks reddened further as you glanced around, trying to hide your mortification. "I just meant that you portray Tommy so well that I find myself drawn to him," you muttered under your breath.

"Interesting," Cillian mused, studying you carefully. "So, does that mean that you feel drawn to me too?" Cillian teased playfully, raising an eyebrow.

"No, no, not at all!" you sputtered, laughing nervously. 

"No?" he asked mischievously.  "That's a shame," he teased, winking slyly. "Because I wouldn't have minded having someone like join me at my hotel room later tonight," he suggested nonchalantly, leaning in closer until his lips brushed against your ear.

You gasped, stunned by his bold proposition. "What?" you spluttered, jerking back from him in shock. "Are you serious?"

Cillian smirked, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Yes, although you would have to agree to sign an NDA before I take you there," he added, winking slyly. 

You stared at him, wide-eyed, processing his offer. It was like a dream come true and even though you had never slept with anyone before, you agreed to his proposal. 

The idea of spending the night with Cillian Murphy was irresistible, intoxicating even. You knew the risks involved, but at that moment, nothing mattered more than fulfilling the fantasy you had nurtured inside you all these years.

"Alright," you managed to whisper, swallowing hard as you watched Cillian finish up his drink.

"Good then lets get out of here," he whispered back, flashing you a wicked grin and, soon after that, you stepped outside, the cold night air hit you, instantly sobering you up. You couldn't believe this was happening. You were going to a hotel room with Cillian Murphy. But as the reality sunk in, you started to feel anxious about losing your virginity to someone you didn't even know. 

When you arrived at the hotel room half an hour later, Cillian made you sign the NDA and, soon after you did, you found yourself pressed against the door, his hot breath fanning your neck and his hands already starting to explore your body.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you," he murmured reassuringly, kissing your neck tenderly as he sensed your nervousness. 

"You want this, don't you?" he whispered, sliding his hands beneath your shirt, caressing your skin. "Just say the word, and we can stop," he reassured you but you simply moaned softly, arching your back as his fingers touched the sensitive spot between your shoulder blades.

Despite the lingering doubts in your mind, you couldn't deny the intense desire coursing through your veins. You wanted him, needed him.

"I don't want to stop," you whimpered, clutching at the fabric covering his chest.

Cillian smirked down at you, his eyes dark and glittering with lust.

"Good girl," he cooed, running his thumb along your jawline. "Now, tell me Y/N, will you let me do whatever I want with you tonight?"

You swallowed thickly, your pulse thrumming wildly in your throat. "Whatever you want, Cillian," you breathed, clinging tighter to his shoulders.

"Really?" he murmured, trailing kisses along your jawline. 

You shivered, feeling a thrill of excitement course through you. "Yeah, whatever you want," you assured him, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his soft hair.

"Good," Cillian groaned as, with a devious grin, he pulled away, leaving you breathless and hungry for more. 

"Now I want you to undress for me," he commanded, his voice soft yet commanding. His eyes held a playful glint that belied the power they exuded.

Slowly, you slipped off your heels first, letting them fall silently to the floor. With every step you took back, you became spellbound by his gaze, entranced by the magnetism oozing from his presence.

Your heart pounded in your chest, as you untied the knot holding your dress together, allowing it to slip gracefully from your shoulders.

The thin fabric pooled around your feet, leaving you standing naked before Cillian. Your bare skin prickled with anticipation, knowing that he had complete control over you.

"Your panties too," Cillian purred, the edge of his mouth curling into a devilish smirk.

Eyes fixed on his mesmerizing gaze, you hesitated for a brief second before pulling away your panties. The feeling of utter vulnerability washed over you like a tidal wave, yet something within you embraced the sensation.

"Perfect," Cillian murmured approvingly, his eyes raking over your nude form hungrily. "Now, stand still for me."

You obeyed, standing stiffly as he circled around you like a predator assessing its prey.

Cillian traced his index finger along your collarbone, leaving a trail of warmth.

"You're beautiful, Y/N," he murmured, his eyes traveling downwards to admire your curvy hips tapering into your waist. "So fucking gorgeous."

His words ignited a fire within you, and with each passing second, your nerves began to calm down. This was it. The culmination of everything you ever fantasized about.

Cillian stepped back to take off his shirt, revealing a lean torso.

The sight made your mouth go dry, and you almost forgot to breathe.

He moved closer, running his hand up along your inner thigh, sending shivers down your spine.

"Drop to your knees Y/N," he ordered, his voice low and gravelly. You hesitated for a moment, but his insistent gaze compelled you to follow his command.

Once on your knees, you looked up at him, his eyes burning with desire, his erection straining against his pants. You reached out, unbuttoning his jeans.

He groaned softly as you slipped the zipper down, freeing his cock from its confines. You gasped at the sight before you - thick, veiny, and throbbing with need.

"Look at me," Cillian demanded, placing his hands on your shoulders roughly. Your eyes lifted towards him, meeting his fiery gaze. "Tell me how much you want this."

"I want this. I want this a lot," you managed to utter, biting your lip nervously.

"Good girl," Cillian praised, his grip tightening on your shoulders. "Now, show me. Take my cock in to your mouth," he demanded and you hesitated for a moment, staring at the swollen tip of his cock. The urge to wrap your lips around it was overwhelming, but you also felt uneasy about the unknown territory you were treading.

Still, the prospect of pleasing Cillian thrilled you, and you leaned forward, your tongue darting out to lick the tip of his cock.

Cillian groaned loudly, his grip tightening on your shoulders. "That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice hoarse with raw lust. "Take your time, taste me."

His request spurred you on, and you opened your mouth wider, taking the head of his cock between your lips.

You sucked lightly, savoring the taste of him, your heart pounding in rhythm with the intensity of the moment.

"Suck me harder," Cillian growled, his hands grasping your hair tightly as he thrust deeper into your mouth.

You complied, applying more force, reveling in the sensation of his cock pulsing against your tongue. You felt empowered, desired, and utterly submissive. The combination was intoxicating.

Cillian continued to guide you, coaching you through every stroke, praising your efforts with guttural moans and sighs of pleasure.

"That's it, Y/N," he coaxed, threading his fingers through your hair. "Fuck, you're good with your mouth."

You struggled to catch your breath, your lungs heaving in the silence of the dimly lit room. Each word, each gesture, served to fuel the growing tension between you two.

You tasted Cillian's precum, tangy and salty, arousing you further.

Your inhibitions vanished, replaced by a raw hunger for his approval.

"You're doing great," Cillian murmured, his grip tightening on your hair. "I want you to take me deeper, okay?"

You eagerly bobbed your head, engulfing his length greedily. The heat building between you threatened to combust.

"God, you're amazing," Cillian groaned, bucking his hips.

"Open wide for me now, sweetheart," he instructed, gripping your hair tightly in his fist.

You followed his order, parting your lips and sucking harder.

As you deepthroated him, Cillian's hips bucked involuntarily, grinding against your lips.

The smell of sweat combined with the faint smell of alcohol, created a unique scent that aroused you further.

"Ah, fuck," Cillian cried out, his hand tightening on your scalp.

"Keep going," he encouraged, his voice strained with effort.

You obliged, loving the taste of him.

Cillian's cock grew thicker in your mouth, his hardness becoming even more pronounced. You could sense his pleasure and it drove you wild.

"I will cum down your throat now and I want you to be a good girl and swallow it all," Cillian declared.

His voice had a stern authority that sent shivers down your spine.

Nervous excitement surged through you as you prepared for the inevitable.

"Okay," you managed to whisper, your heart drumming in your chest.

Cillian placed his hands on your cheekbones, his thumbs stroking your temples soothingly.

"Relax," he urged, his voice softer now. "Let it happen."

You took a deep breath, clenching your fists tight, readying yourself for the sensation.

Cillian's breathing became labored, and you could tell he was on the brink of release.

"Here it comes," he warned, his voice strained. "Swallow every drop baby."

You nodded, your heart hammering in your chest.

With a final warning glance, Cillian exploded, filling your mouth with his seed. You gagged reflexively, but you remembered his warning. Swallowing hard, you forced the semen down your throat, tasting the bitterness of his essence.

Cillian sighed heavily, releasing your hair and caressing your head tenderly.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice laced with satisfaction. "You handled that beautifully."

You sat back on your heels, panting heavily, your senses reeling from the intense encounter. "Thanks," you mumbled, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "I tried my best."

Cillian smiled down at you, his eyes sparkling with pride. "You exceeded my expectations," he praised, cupping your chin before pulling you up to stand on your feet again. "Now it is time to see how tight you are," he announced, his voice husky with anticipation. "So why don't you climb on to the bed for me. I want to fuck you from behind so that I can watch my cock slide in and out of your pussy," Cillian murmured huskily, his gaze burning with lust.

You hesitated briefly, unsure of what to do. You'd never done anything like this before and the fear of not being able to match Cillian's expectations loomed large. However, the thought of experiencing something you'd only dreamed about pushed you forward.

"Okay," you responded, climbing onto the king-sized bed. The mattress sank beneath your weight, enveloping you in a cloud of softness.

You turned around, facing the mirrored wall opposite the bed, watching yourself in the reflection. The bedside lamp cast a soft glow on your skin, illuminating the flush of arousal creeping up your cheeks.

Cillian climbed onto the bed behind you, his movements confident and assertive. You watched him pull a condom from the bedside table drawer, expertly rolling it onto his erect cock before discarding the wrapper on the floor.

He then reached forward, assessing your wetness with a fingertip. You arched your back in response while Cillian gripped your hips firmly.

"I want you to stay like this," he instructed, positioning your legs apart. "Ready for me?" he asked as the anticipation built within you, your heart pounding with trepidation and excitement.

"Yes," you managed to squeak, biting your lip as you waited for him to enter you.

You could feel his heated breath on your neck, and the anticipation of his entry filled you with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Cillian positioned himself behind you, aligning his cock with your entrance. You braced yourself, anticipating the invasion of his massive member.

"I am going to stretch you open now, Y/N," Cillian murmured in your ear, his words vibrating against your skin as you felt his hands grip your hips firmly, anchoring you in place.

Then, with a single swift motion, he thrust deeply into you, stretching you open, causing tears to spring to your eyes from the sudden intrusion. You suppressed a scream while pushing your face against the pillow while Cillian pumped into you. 

"You're so tight," he groaned, thrusting faster, deeper, relentlessly driving into you, his cock burrowing into your core, filling you completely.

It was painful but knowing who he was and that you were pleasing him somehow numbed the discomfort.

"Does it hurt?" he murmured, sounding genuinely concerned, his voice cracking slightly.

"No," you lied unconvincingly, your voice quivering. "Not really."

"Good," he grunted, continuing his relentless assault on your body. "Because I'm enjoying this and I am going to make you mine," he declared, grabbing your hips more tightly, guiding your movement with his firm hands. You gasped as he slammed into you, his cock hitting the deepest parts of you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You fought the urge to cry out as he mercilessly fucked you, his thrusts deep and unrelenting.

"Good girl. Keep taking my cock," Cillian groaned, his voice muffled. 

He grabbed your hips roughly, forcing you to arch back against him, and you moaned softly, unable to resist the pleasure he offered.

"So tight," he murmured, pumping into you harder.

"Can you feel my cock stretching you open?" Cillian murmured, his voice heavy with lust.

You winced, your muscles tensing, but nodded weakly, unwilling to break the spell that Cillian had woven around you.

"Good," he groaned, pulling out almost entirely before slamming back into you with renewed vigor. "I want you to cum for me, Y/N."

His words jolted you, stirring a strange sensation within you. You'd never experienced anything quite like this before, overwhelmed by the mixture of pain and pleasure coursing through your body.

The fear of disappointing Cillian fueled your determination to satisfy him, despite the discomfort.

"Do you like that?" Cillian murmured, his voice deepening as he buried his cock inside you multiple times. "Feel my cock stretching you open."

Your heart raced, pounding against your ribcage like a frenzied beast. You moaned softly, struggling to contain the mounting desire raging within you.

"Yeah, that's right," Cillian growled, punctuating each thrust with a sharp yank of your hair.

"Scream for me, baby."

You whimpered, your cries echoing in the silent room. Every brutal thrust of his cock stretched you open, driving you toward the precipice of orgasm until, finally, you could not take anymore.

You screamed, your voice reverberating through the room as your orgasm washed over you, consuming you whole.

"Yes, that's it," Cillian murmured, his voice strained and desperate. "Come for me, Y/N."

You thrashed beneath him, writhing uncontrollably as he pummeled your depths, milking your release. Your screams echoed in the silence, as the sheer force of your orgasm shook you. You cried out, your voice raw and hoarse.

The pleasure consumed you, obliterating any lingering fears or doubts.

Cillian continued to pump into you, his cock relentless as it plundered your depths. You clawed at the sheets, your nails digging into the fabric as you surrendered to the exquisite torment until, suddenly, he withdrew and quickly removed the condom.

"Turn around," he commanded, his voice strained yet commanding as he pumped his cock with his hand.

You complied, turning to face him, your chest heaving with exertion.

"Open your mouth," Cillian said, his voice low and gruff. You parted your lips obediently, exposing your moistened flesh beneath his scrutiny.

"I will cum inside your mouth again, so open wide," Cillian murmured, his words laden with intent.

With a practiced twist of his wrist, he aimed his pulsating shaft directly at your waiting mouth. The head of his cock swelled, eager to be welcomed inside.

"Good girl," he groaned. "Here it comes," Cillian jerked his hand, unleashing a stream of cum straight into your mouth. You gagged, choking on the warm liquid as it filled your mouth.

"Swallow it," he barked, his voice strained with lust. "Every last drop."

You coughed as the thick substance filled your mouth, and you wondered if you'd ever forget the flavor of Cillian's essence as you gulped it down.

Your heart thumped erratically in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins like a drug. As you lay on the rumpled sheets, the remnants of ecstasy and exhaustion pulsed through every fiber of your being.

"That was quite something," Cillian murmured, tracing light patterns on your arm with his fingertips. "But I must admit, I'm surprised by your eagerness to please me. I did not expect such obedience from anyone really."

You shrugged uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. "Well, I must admit, I had my fair share of wet dreams about you so I really wanted to please you," you replied, hoping your answer sounded casual enough. "And it's not everyday you get to sleep with a famous actor."

Cillian chuckled softly, leaning in close to kiss your cheek. 

"Hmm, you know what I have been fantasizing about?" Cillian mused, brushing some hair away from your face and kissing your forehead lightly. "I've been fantasizing about keeping someone like you at my house for a few weeks. Someone who agrees to let me do whatever I want to her. Someone I can use every day for my pleasure," Cillian explained as he traced a gentle pattern on your arm with his fingertips, his eyes locked on yours. "Would that interest you?"

You hesitated, your heart fluttering at the idea. "Well, I don't know..." you trailed off, trying to sound nonchalant. "I mean, I guess I'd consider it."

Cillian smiled mysteriously, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous sparkle. "Good," he said, his voice dropping low and seductive. "I get my assistant to send you a contract then. You can read it, see if you are okay with thee terms and then we can make arrangements," Cillian suggested, his tone hinting at an excited undercurrent.

You blinked, your mind racing with possibilities. The idea of spending a few weeks with Cillian, submitting to his desires, seemed both terrifying and thrilling. "Sure, I'd love to see the contract," you agreed meekly, secretly yearning for the opportunity to spend more time with him.

"Good," Cillian grinned, his eyes sparkling with delight. "Although, you better think it though thoroughly, Y/N. It involves me doing things to you which you may not necessarily enjoy," Cillian said, his voice deep and resonant. "I won't ask for your consent or permission during every encounter. You will be in some pain and you will most defiantly be sore. And most importantly, you'll be in my house, with no contact with the outside world whatsoever during our arrangement," Cillian told you matter-of-factly, as he ran his fingers gently down your arm.

Tags: @ietss @thorins-queen-of-erebor @cilliansbabe @calmingmelody96 @lavender-haze-01 @febris-amatoria @cursedalchemist

[daydreams-after-dark]

Blindfolds | Chan x Reader x mystery man (Minho)

chan x fem reader x minho.

Chan helps you fulfil your fantasy of having a "stranger" sleep with you

Word count: I think about 3k?

MDNI . Content warning below.

————- WARNINGS: unsafe sex, threesome, oral sex, vaginal sex, anal fingering, blowjob, orgasm, slight choking, cum eating, mystery sex, blindfold—————-

You walk down the dimly lit hallway towards one of the unused bedrooms in the holiday house you and your friends were staying at. You and your best friend, Chan decided the scenario will take place in a space that no one is using, to really maximize the mysteriousness of it the whole thing.

Butterflies are going crazy in your stomach, and you tug your satin robe tighter around your waist to try to settle them down. You feel rather sexy and feminine in the robe, the cream floral print against a gold background makes you feel like a queen.

You approach the designated door and knock.

“Come in.” Chan's voice calls from the inside. You swallow hard and push open the door.

You're immediately taken aback. The room is stunning. The decor is dark and moody, with the walls painted a dark grey blue, and the furniture looks as though it’s antique. Paintings of abstract naked women have been hung around the room.

There are various stained-glass lamps, emanating a seductive glow, and there is music playing low in the background. It sounds like French music. A woman’s voice seductively fills the room.

Then there’s the bed. Huge, King sized, so plush and high set. Chan is laying propped up against the dark timber headboard, he almost looks lost leaning amongst the generous number of over sized plush pillows. He’s wearing black tracksuit pants and a muscle tee. It looks out of place in such a sensually styled room.

“What do you think?” Chan gestures around the room.

“Th- this,” you stammer. “It’s amazing Chan.” You move towards the bed, stretching out your hand to touch the dark green quilt. It’s luxurious on your fingertips as you run your hand along the fabric and move closer to the head of the bed. The only thought going through your head is: Someone’s going to fuck you on this.

You perch on the side of the bed facing away from Chan, your feet barely reaching the floor. That's when you notice the black blindfold laid out neatly on the bedside table. Next to it is a bottle of coconut oil.

“How are you feeling? Are you okay?” Chan reaches out to touch your hand that’s resting beside you on the bed.

You inhale deeply and then slowly release the breath. How are you feeling?  It’s a mixture of feelings really. You're so very nervous. That you already know. But, you're also… excited. The idea of what’s about to happen is truly thrilling to you.

You can't believe your best friend Chan agreed to help you fulfil this fantasy. Of being blindfolded and fucked by a mystery person.

Chan smiles “We gotta get you ready!” He practically jumps off the bed and moves around to the side of the bed, taking your hand and helping you slide off the bed.

You've already discussed the details of how you're going to do this, covering safe words and safe gestures, what positions we are going to be in. These had been relayed to the mystery person who was going to be participating. The man coming to fuck you wouldn't be a stranger though. It was one of seven other men, that Chan knows extremely well. You've met them all too, and to be fair, you'd be thrilled to have any of them fuck you.

You stand in front of Chan facing away from him. There is tension in the air and your breath feels wobbly. He steps closer to you, and you can feel his breath on your neck and a pang in your chest. You'd really wish he'd kiss you. Chan doesn't know how much you actually want him. But he's never shown any signs of wanting you as more than a friend. He slowly reaches around, careful not to touch you too much, you wish he would, and pulls at your robe’s rope-tie.

It comes loose easily allowing your robe to fall open. Chan delicately pulls your robe off your shoulders letting it drop to the floor. You hadn’t put any underwear on, and now you're standing completely naked in front of Chan. And only Chan.

It feels extremely intimate and you're feeling self conscious. He hasn’t been this close to your naked body before. Goosebumps form on your skin. It isn’t cold in the room. Chan had thought of that too and had made the room a comfortable temperature. He’s so fucking considerate. You smile to myself.

You close your eyes and compose yourself. Fuck. You're really doing this.

Chan takes your hand again and grabs the blindfold in the other. He steadies you as you climb onto the bed where he resumes the position of laying down and propped up against a pillow and headboard. He directs you to sit between his legs facing away from him, and carefully he places the blindfold over your eyes and securing it at the back of your head. Your senses immediately heighten. This feels so erotic.

“Lean back on me.” He whispers as he guides you to lean back onto his fully clothed body. You can feel his hard, toned muscles flexing underneath you and his breathing is strained. Is he nervous? You can feel an erection beginning to dig into your back. Is this turning him on?

You imagine what this must look like, your exposed, naked body with Chan’s strong legs on either side of yours. You don’t know what to do with your hands so you rest them on your stomach. You don’t know where Chan’s arms and hands are, only that they aren’t touching you. You wish he’d wraps his arms around you. You wish he’d caress your body.

For a moment you try to imagine what it would be like if he did touch you. The sensation of him cupping your breasts, pinching a nipple, sliding his hands over your body. Then you remember why you're here, for a mystery fuck. A small moan escapes you. Did he hear you?

Chan nuzzles his face into your neck, resting his chin on your left shoulder. He's so close. “You already imagining a stranger inside you, hmm?” he whispers. You whimper. His voice turns you on beyond belief.

You don’t have chance to answer because there is a knock on the door. You suck in a breath. This is actually happening.

“Come in.” Chan calls out. You hear the door creak open and then close.

“Are you ready to begin?” whispers Chan in your ear.

“Mmm hmm, yes.” you reply.

“Good, because I think you are going to really enjoy this.”

He takes hold of your hands and places them on the bed either side of your body, using his hands to hold them down out of the way so you can’t go ahead and touch your anonymous lover. You had requested this. It makes you feel like you're being forcefully held in place, although you know you can change things if you want.

You feel the mattress dip slightly. Someone is climbing onto the bed near your feet. Who can it be? Is it Changbin? Or could it be Minho? Felix? Could it be Jisung?

A hand touches your ankle. You shudder, then very slowly and delicately it makes it way up to the side of your knee. Their touch is light and feathery. You swallow.

Then you feel a mouth, a moist, plush mouth just above your knee. You think he is about to take the kisses up your leg, but instead takes his kisses back down, making his way down to your ankle. It feels so sensual. Who do these lips belong to?

Chan releases your arms for just a moment so he can lift your legs over each of his legs, which are spread out wide on the bed. Then he goes back to gently pinning your hands to the mattress.

You sense the other man moving closer and a mouth reappears on your skin. This time it’s your inner right thigh. He drags his tongue from inside your leg near your knee all the way up your inner thigh, sending tingles through your body, but he stops before he gets anywhere near your pussy. He does this again, and then mirrors the action with your other leg.

His hands try to push your legs a little wider and Chan assists by moving his own legs wider again, forcing your legs to part just a little more. You're ready, wide open for whatever you're about to receive.

The touching stops, but you can feel him kneeling in front of you. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly in anticipation.

You're pleasantly startled when you feel a warm liquid landing on your breasts. The oil. Chan must have warmed it up somehow in preparation. You moan at the sensation of the oil dripping down around and between your breasts. You suck your breath between your teeth when you feel a pair of hands cupping your breasts, then squeezing and massaging the flesh in slow, but firm circles.

His hands slide easily over your oiled skin, and you squeal slightly when he squeezes your nipples. As the pinches and flicks become more aggressive you can’t help but arch your back and rock your hips at the sensation.

Chan shushes you. “We need to stay still and take it, remember what we agreed to?” That’s right, part of this was you needed to stay as still as possible, it was all part of being restrained. You compose yourself and stop moving. It’s so difficult but you're determined to play the part properly.

“Good girl.” Chan growls low. Good girl? You love those words.

More warm oil is applied to your stomach. There is so much that it coats your entire abdomen and runs down towards your core, and trickles down where your pussy lips meet. You feel bad for the bedding, it’s probably going to be a mess.

It feels so fucking sexy with your body being this slick and slippery. You feel like a goddess being worshipped and adored, yet at the same time you feel like a dirty whore who doesn’t care who fucks her.

You wait for the hands to return to your body, anticipating them all over your stomach and you moan and pant with the need to be touched now. You're desperate and on the verge of begging.

“Pl-please… please touch me.” you say.

“He wants you to call him ‘Sir’”, Chan whispers.

“Please touch me again… Sir.” you pant.

You let out a long, low moan as he pours the oil at the top of your pussy. It runs down through your lips and onto your asshole. You can’t help but try to wriggle with pleasure and frustration. Chan squeezes your hand, a reminder that you need to stay still. You don’t know where his hands will land next and the anticipation is pure agony.

The stranger lifts your legs up bending them so your knees are up near your chest. Chan removes one of his hands from yours to grip under your knee to help pin it against your chest, whilst the other man pins your right leg.

You feel the heel of a hand press firmly against your clit and begin to move in circular motions, much like they did with your breasts. It provides a grinding sensation that shoots pleasure deep inside of your abdomen.

“Fuck that feels so good… Sir.” you whimper as his hand swirls and presses on you for what feel like and eternity.

He then drags two fingers beginning at your clit all the way down to your asshole, dragging the oil and your slickness all the way down. Your cunt clenches as his fingers pass by the entrance, not stopping to explore. He presses a finger to your rim.

“Aaaah!!” you gasp at the sensation of the pressure.

He massages his finger against you, and you know you're going to open up easily for him. You are so aroused and so slick from yourself and the oil that it doesn’t take much for the tip of his finger to breech the entrance. You grip the sheets with your hands and pant shallow breaths as his finger slips in deeper, deeper, all the way in.

“You’re being so good for him.” Chan’s words of praise in your ear make you melt around the stranger’s finger and you're ready for more.

“Sir… please.. I need… can you put in another finger?”

He slowly removes his finger and you feel two fingers at your rim now. He pushes them in, going ever so slowly. It’s a stretch but he’s moving slowly enough that you're adjusting along the way, making the stretch feel achingly good. He must be experienced at this sort of thing. He knows exactly what to do.

You bring your left arm up and wrap it around Chan’s neck, as whispers words of encouragement in your ear.

The volume of your moans and whimpers grow so loud now that it’s drowning out the sound of the French woman’s singing. The man moves his fingers in and and out of your ass maintaining a relentlessly slow pace. The burning sensation with every drag of his fingers makes you cry out.

“Faster… harder… Sir I need… more.”

He quickly builds up the pace. Chan releases your hand to bring his hand to your neck, wrapping it around your throat and squeezing slightly but not enough to cut off air. Then he brings his thumb up to your lips. You open your mouth allowing him to slip his thumb inside. You pull at the hair on the back of his head and he pushes his thumb further into your mouth. The other man continues to fuck your ass with his fingers.

A mouth lands on your pussy. His tongue swirls around and through your lips. The tip of his tongue slides inside of you. Chan starts to fuck your mouth with his thumb, pushing it deep into your mouth roughly. You want him to ruin you.

You're practically screaming from the glorious agony, your senses are on overload.

Chan removes his thumb. “Is this okay?” he checks in with you.

“Yes… But… I want his cock now.”

“Ahhh yes, I bet you do. Let’s sort you out, yeah?”

The fingers inside your ass are removed and you feel the man shift his position.

His thighs press against the underside of yours. Then… you feel the tip of a cock. He pushes it against your opening, making you let out a pathetic whine. Your body is begging for him to push his cock in.

But he doesn't push it in. Moments pass and still nothing happens. What is happening? A sense of panic makes it’s way into your body. Has he changed his mind?

“He wants to know if we can take the blindfold off?” Chan asks.

You pause. He hasn’t changed his mind. You quickly decide what you want to do. Whoever it is wants you to be right there with him, making this moment together. Not him fucking you, but you fucking each other.

You bite your bottom lip. “Okay.” you say shakily. Your breath quickens at the thought of coming face to face with the man who has been pleasuring you so amazingly.

Chan takes over holding your right leg up and two hands come to rest on the sides of your blindfold, the tip of his cock slips into you slightly as he leans in towards you, giving you a tease of what’s to come. You can’t wait until he is all the way inside.

Your blindfold slides off but your vision is slightly blurry. You blink to adjust your eyes and the man before you becomes clear.

Minho.

He is looking at you expectantly, nervously, like you might run away at the sight of him.

You reach up and cup his face. His cheeks are flushed and lips pink and swollen. He isn’t even being the one fucked right now but he looks like he is.

“Hey.” you say with a dazed smile.

“Hey.” He replies. “Is this okay…do you want to keep…”

You wrap an arm around his waist and pull him down on top of you. His hands reach around to your ass and he lifts your hips up and pushes himself all the way inside of you.

Minho is finally free to make noises now and he makes long low moans as he rocks his hips into you. He looks down to where you're joined to watch his cock glide in and out.

You still have one arm wrapped around Chan’s neck, your other explores Minho’s body. His toned body undulates like some sort of exotic python. He’s even more skilled with his cock than with those magic fingers. He brings his mouth down onto yours mirroring his tongue with his thrusts. A skilled, diligent lover.

You melt together as his long, languid thrusts become deeper and you’re being pressed into Chan’s hard cock.

Without warning, Minho pulls out and flips you over in one fluid move so that you’re on all fours.

You look to the head of the bed and see Chan’s hard erection inside his sweat pants. You’re about to reach for it when you’re dragged down the bed by Minho. You look into Chan’s eyes longingly as you’re being pulled out of reach and he just stares back at you. You want to please him so badly.

Minho pushes his cock back inside of you making you cry out. Pleasure washes over you, mixing with the angst of yearning for Chan. He slides his thumb over your asshole and presses it inside. “Ahhh.. Yes, Minho.” You cry, squeezing your eyes tight.

He pushes it in all the way and rests his palm and fingers on your tail bone. His grip is perfect to rock you on and off his cock. You love feeling so filled up. You’re so close now.

Chan looks fucked out, like he’s on another planet. His engorged, swollen red cock is now out of his pants and in his hand, but he’s not doing anything with it. He’s just holding it absentmindedly. His eyes glazed over as he stares at you.

Minho must notice him too. “Kitten?” he pants. “Do you want to help Chan out? Make him come?”

You look at Chan eagerly. You’re practically salivating.

“Come over here Chan. It’s okay.” Minho encourages Chan over but he doesn’t move. “Before I cum.” He adds, hoping that will spur him on.

Chan, as if possessed, gets up onto his knees and crawls his way towards you. Once he is close enough he offers you the head of his cock and you take hold of it with one hand and guide him into your mouth. Chan whimpers at the touch. You lick your tongue along his shaft and over the tip before taking him deep into your mouth.

“Oh fuck!” Chan whines high pitched.

“Don’t use your hands. Make him work for it.” Minho growls.

You do as you’re told and release your grip but keeping him in your mouth.

Something in Chan snaps. He grabs the back of your head and starts plunging his cock into your mouth relentlessly. He tangles his fingers in your hair as he fucks your face without restraint. It makes you gag. It’s hard to take him and your eyes water.

You look up at him, he’s staring at you while his cock thrusts into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat, making you almost choke. Seeing Chan using you like this while Minho pounds into you from behind, is all too much.

You cry out around Chan’s cock as your legs shake and your cunt clenches around Minho. Your arms and legs buckle underneath you but Minho is there to hold you steady. He wraps an arm underneath you, keeping you in position.

Minho suddenly pulls out, painting your back in his cum with a long moan.

Chan growls and moans and pulls his cock out to massage his release into your waiting mouth and tongue. There is so much, coating your tongue and dribbling down your chin. He leans back onto his heels, shaking as he watches you swallow everything in your mouth, and then use your fingers to scoop the remaining cum on your chin and licking your fingers clean. He looks horrified and startled. Oh shit, have you done something wrong?

Chan quickly gets off the bed and pulls up his trackpants. “Fuck. I am so sorry.” He is so flustered.

“I’ll get the towels.” Minho announces and hops off the bed.

“Chan?” You whimper. He doesn’t seem to hear you. He’s is freaking out. “Chan!” You repeat, “I need you to hold me.”

Chan looks down at you, as though he is scared. What is going through his mind? Cautiously, he edges closer to the bed and sits beside you. You’re still in an all fours position waiting to have your back wiped clean, but you kneel up to let Chan wrap his arms around you. You nuzzle into his chest. Why is he so upset with you?

You feel him relax against you and he strokes your hair. “I shouldn’t have done that to you.” He whispers over and over. You don’t understand. You fucking loved that he did that to you. You’ve wanted it for so long.

“Oh Channie!” You cry. “I fucking want you, you idiot!”

Chan looks at you warily. “Really?”

You reach up and cup his cheek. “Yes.” You whisper, your eyes dropping to his lips. He closes the gap capturing you in a heated kiss. “Stay with me tonight, Chan.”

“Of course, baby girl. Of course."

Minho returned, cleaned you up and helped you and Chan hop into bed.

"I'm glad you two have finally got your act together." he said laughing as he said goodnight and left you and Chan to snuggle together.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itshannjisung @kangnina @weareapackofstrays