#but what would I really even say if I could

[meo-eiru]

The most beautiful pearl

That was the day I met Dana, a maid with commoner blood.

It wasn’t common for maids from lowly backgrounds to work directly for me, but apparently she started working in the estate years ago and slowly rose up in the ranks thanks to her diligence and determined personality.

Dana was nice, she would always pay attention to my needs and work extra for my comfort. Personally delivering all my meals, helping me dress up and preparing my bath all by herself, staying by my side until I fall asleep…

“I really appreciate you Dana…” I say sleepily, my body engulfed in the soft blanket Dana prepared for me as she sits by my side.

“You do my lady?”, I nod.

“I don’t have many people I’m close with, but you’ve been so nice to me for the past 3 months…”

“I’m your handmaid, my lady. That much is to be expected.”

“But you’re so much more attentive than any of my other maids. It has barely been 3 months but I don’t know what I would do without you…”

“…I’m glad to hear that my lady.” She stops for a second as if to think. “Don’t worry I will always be by your side…” Dana answers me gently. My tired eyes fail to read her face in the dimly moonlit room, but I go to sleep with a smile on my face, imagining her doing the same.

.

.

.

.

I look down at her, watching her slowly breathe in and out with that foolishly innocent expression on her face. The suffocating uniform I had to wear to hide my adam’s apple and chest is unbuttoned to let me breathe. A sharp knife shines in my hand, reflecting the moonlight decorating her fancy room.

516 times. I’ve tried to kill this woman exactly 516 times. I raise my knife. “This time I will do it” I think to myself. You shift in your sleep, probably deep in your happy dreams. You don’t sense anything, unaware of the danger I hold.

“I will do it… I will…” I repeat in my head yet my hand won’t stop shaking.

“Damn it…”

.

.

.

.

“She has so many openings, does she have no survival instinct? It feels like she could die if she fell down tad too hard” I think to myself as I pick up her dinner. A small bottle of poison I’ve failed to use so far and my knife are tucked deep in my apron. There are a few servants around chatting but no one seems to suspect anything from the lady’s personal handmaid.

“Hey did you see what Lady y/n was wearing today? Haha is she trying to catch someone’s attention going out like that?”

“Right? If she bent down a bit we could even see her cleavage!”

Huh?

Those two… are they new recruits? I did hear that despicable man hired a new batch. What do they think they are doing spouting such nonsense?

“She already looks so naive, I bet she wouldn’t be able to do anything if I just cornered her right?”

…

“Dana, did you get some of the tomato sauce on your sleeve?” you ask innocently, happily enjoying your lavish dinner.

“It seems so my lady. I will clean it tonight don’t worry.” I quickly answer with my usual smile.

“Haha don’t tell me you wanted to try some! You could’ve just asked me, here.”

“I-I couldn’t possibly my lady-“

“My arm will get tired if you don’t take it~”

I sigh and lean down to eat the bite you so graciously offered, it doesn’t have poison anyway…

It truly is delicious, enough to drive a commoner to tears, but this quality is just the norm for you.

.

.

.

.

I once again stand above you. “This time… this time for sure…” repeats in my head as I raise my knife. This is the 520th attempt.

You sleep peacefully under me as I clench my teeth, my hand refusing to go down.

It’s always the same thing. I stay by your side until you fall asleep, I get up and raise my knife, I watch you sleep without a worry in the world and go back to my room after another failure.

I sigh and prepare to get up, I’ve despised you for longer than you know for making me feel this way.

“Dana…?”

“!?” You’re awake? Why are you awake!? You never wake up at this hour!

…What are you looking at?

My eyes follow your gaze and land on the knife I’m holding up.

“W-what are you doing Dana!? N-no someone help-!”

My free hand quickly covers your mouth as I whisper yell “Be quiet!”. You continue flailing your arms and legs, trying to push me off. Since my other hand is still up I can’t hold you down properly.

“Stop fighting me! You don’t have the right to-!”

You manage to push my hand off your mouth but your nails catch my open collar, accidentally ripping a button. For a second your eyes widen and before I can register what’s going on you grab my clothes.

“!!”

In a moment of panic I throw the knife and pull away to cover myself.

“D-Don’t look!”

If you do they’ll take you away from me.

“Y-you are a man?” You ask while sitting up, clearly on guard but you make no motion to run away. Maybe seeing my panicked state made you feel less scared.

I don’t answer and just stare at you. I wonder what my expression looks like? My panic and anger must reflect on my eyes as I cover my chest. My knife… is at the other side of the room, tsk.

“B-But why…? A-and that knife… were you trying to…? I… D-did I do something to offend you…?”

Your voice is shaking as you ask questions after questions, tears slowly spilling out. I’m sure you must feel so scared and betrayed. Good, that’s what I wanted.

Yes, what I wanted…

What I wanted?

Anger boils inside me. A part of me feels satisfied for making you experience such betrayal, but the other half feels anger. A privileged person like you who lives life without a single worry doesn’t deserve to cry like a victim.

“Stop crying!” I lunge forward to grab your neck and push you down. You look up to me, clearly scared but my hand doesn’t squeeze your neck.

“You don’t know anything!” I bite my lip, wanting to scream but also not. I hate this, once again my body refuses to listen to me.

“You don’t know anything about me! You don’t know what your family has done! You don’t know what you have done to me!!”

My hand presses down harder.

“I already had nothing but you ruined me beyond repair!” I try to keep my voice low to not alert the other servants yet I can’t prevent it from shaking as I let my anger out.

“You don’t know anything…”

.

.

.

.

“Dana”

A name unfit for a boy, and this disgustingly beautiful face that resembles hers were the only things that wench left behind with me.

I didn’t know anything about her. All I knew was that she treated me like the girl she always wanted to give birth to and that I must never leave the wooden box she called “home”.

She hated me, it was only obvious. Even when I was barely able to speak it wasn’t hard to understand she actually wished for a girl. Although, maybe thanks to this face of mine, she enjoyed putting me in dresses and forcing me into the life she dreamed of.

“Dana, mommy has to deal with some surprise visitors so stay in this closet and don’t make a noise just like how I taught you before alright?”

Those were the last words she uttered before kissing my forehead and closing the rusty closet doors. Then it was arguing, screams, red and silence.

The fact that she used to work in your estate because she was in debt to your father, that she ran away pregnant without actually paying it back and was being hunted down were things I only got to know later in life.

It seems they were unaware she was even pregnant and didn’t notice the child she so hurriedly tucked inside the old compact closet.

Such sad excuse of a life, at the end she wasn’t able to accomplish anything. All she had was a son who believed she hated him and thus hated her back. A son who didn’t even care about the effort she put into keeping him hidden and safe.

A son who returned to the estate she once escaped from.

It wasn’t too hard to get registered as a maid with such face and height. My plan originally was to slowly go up in ranks until I reached that filthy man and stab his chest the same way his henchmen stabbed that wench’s.

But then I met you.

The precious young lady of the estate, loved by all the workers and her parents. A lovely person who was sailing through life with no hardships, a being sure to be missed if lost.

I thought if I killed you the same way they killed that wench, that filthy man would experience so much pain he wouldn’t be able to forget about it for an entire lifetime.

So I started working to be your handmaid instead, and you quickly inflicted another type of anger into me.

I hated that you were oblivious to the pain others felt, I hated that all you knew was comfort and love, I hated that you never experienced what a broken heart felt like.

I hated how you smiled at me like you couldn’t do without me, I hated how your hair felt so soft in my hands as I brushed it, I hated how you happily ate the sweets I secretly took from the kitchen just so you could have some more, I hated how good you smelt right after I washed you, I hated how soft your skin felt against my fingertips as I helped you dress up-

“UGH!”

I gasp, sitting on the bathroom floor. Looking at the toilet seat filled with my insides and wiping my mouth with a shaky hand before flushing it down.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this…

.

.

.

.

You look up to me with shaky eyes, body barely moving.

“I-I’m sorry-“

“Don’t pity me! I’m not someone who needs your pity!”

You flinch as I raise my voice. I feel so disgusted, my voice shaking with anger.

“At least I still had control over myself when all I had was hate… At least I was somewhat “normal”…”

My eyes never leave yours, your gaze only making me feel more agitated.

“I wasn’t supposed to feel like this… why did you have to wake up now…”

A tear threatens to fall from my eye.

“If only you just continued sleeping… then I could’ve continued staying next to you… I could’ve continued being good for you…”

“Dana I’m sorry-“

“I said I don’t want to hear it!”

I lower my head, not wanting to see the face you’re making.

Then an idea comes to my mind.

“Are you really sorry? Do you want to make up for it?”

I grab your face before you can answer.

“!?”

I slowly pull away to speak, your taste lingering in my lips.

“Then don’t report what happened today and let me continue staying by your side.

I lean in closer and look into your eyes.

“The only way you can atone for your sins is by accepting this twisted love of mine”

[okwonyo]

DOPAMINE ， 𝗒𝗃𝗐

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐕 𝗃𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗐𝗈𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝖿𝖿, 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗓𝗒

𝟏𝟏𝟐𝟗𝒾──── brother’s bestfriend!yang jungwon �� f!rea ✿ fluff 𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆 ❞ secret relationship kissing skinship ／ req

reblog for ！ ✶ 𝗔 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦 ◜ ᴗ ◝

usually, jungwon is very good at keeping secrets.

unless it comes to you finally, after spending his entire childhood on relentless, dramatic, pathetically persistent pining, not seeing him as one of your brother’s silly friend — but a man you could be the girlfriend of.

the worse is that he swore he could handle it, “lowkey, hush–hush, i get it,” he said, between kisses, unable to keep his hands away from you—already—the minute you let him kiss you.

because, yes, well. it made sense. he was your brother’s best friend after all.

but also, it’s jungwon we are talking about. the kid who fell in love with you in elementary school when he came over at your house the first time. the middle schooler who put love letters in your locket every valentine. the highschooler who tried to act cool around you despite how you would never take him seriously.

it’s safe to say that he’s been pathetically, hopelessly and irrevocably in love with you since pretty much forever. yeah, he can’t hide anything to save his life.

even his crush on you is something your brother picked on.

he’s mind is always elsewhere when he hangs out with his best friend at your house. when he knows you are around, his can’t help but be hyper aware of everything he does. scared that you may appear out of nowhere and say something stupid.

now that you are dating, it’s worse.

when you do appear, he stares at you like you are the sun, the air he breathes and everything in between. the kind of gaze that makes big hearts appear in his eyes.

“hey, jungwon,” is all the attention you give him. with a small smile and a quick look. and fuck, his lip tug upward in a soft, gentle grin.

he is too focused on you passing by the television to understand what your brother groans at you. probably something about how you are hiding his view on his kart.

it doesn’t help that he smiles like a huge idiot when you speak, “oh shut up, jungwon will win anyways.”

he almost squeal at the praise, eyes shining with obvious fondness when you tell your brother he sucks at mario kart. wait, is that his hoodie you are wearing? jesus christ.

and when his friend teases about it?

riki pushes jungwon’s shoulder, “damn, all thirty-two teeth out.”

his face wipes to riki in an instant, already knowing how red in the face he may be. his glasses slide down his nose as he stutters, “uh…i have n–no idea of what you are talking about.”

right.

jungwon can’t hide shit. especially not seeing you after days of not being able to. especially not seeing how loose his hoodie is around your smaller figure. especially not after hearing his name escape the barrier of your lips with such a drowned in sugar tone.

his feet bounce on the floor. he bites down his lip. his eyes flicker to the stairs you took to go to your room. he stoped paying attention to mario kart a long time ago — which pisses off riki a lot. but he feels like an addict craving his drug.

“man, what are you even doing at this point,“ riki groans. ironic, he just won for the ninth time.

jungwon’s head ponds. his heart is threatening to explode his rib cage with how fast it beats. he chewed on his inside cheek so much that there is a metallic taste on his tongue.

he really can’t hide it. how much he wants you.

“i–i’m sorry,” he says, getting up. he speeds to the stairs. “i’m going to the restroom, i’ll be right back.”

he doesn’t look back. he stumbles over his own feet many times as he walks upstairs. he takes off his glasses in anticipation, revealing eyes that are looking for you and only you.

he thinks about barging in your room without a second thought. but he knows how much you hate whenever people don’t knock at your door.

it makes him wait some more, but he does.

“jungwon? what are you—!” he cups your face. pushing his lips against your own like a starving man, he makes you both walk inside your room.

with one hand still on your jaw, he closes the door behind him then pins you against the wall earnestly.

between kisses, everytime he changes angles, everytime he feels like it, he whispers how much he missed you.

when his hand hold the back of your head to push his tongue deeper in your mouth and your hands messes with his hair, he says it again, “i missed you so bad, doll.”

and when he is out of breath, forced to pull away despite how much he doesn’t want to, he repeats, “i missed you so fucking bad.”

you laugh, as out of breath as he is. “you have my chapstick all over you mouth,” you sigh, wiping his lower lip with your thumb.

jungwon can say nothing. he stares at you shamelessly. his finger reaches your hair, tucking a stay hair strand behind your ear.

you whisper as scolding, “you can’t come to my room like this, idiot.”

jungwon beams. the type of wide, sincere and stupid grin that can send you into cardiac arrest easily. he tilts his head like he is imagining a future where you buy a house together. it wouldn’t surprise you — he probably started planning your wedding in middle school.

it’s everything. it’s the staring. the giddiness. the way his face lits up when you walk in the room. how he fixes your posture when you are near. how obviously he yearns for you.

it’s all driving you as crazy as it drives him.

“go away before riki gets mad,” you say, face red, pushing him towards the door.

you even open it for him.

he is already out of your room when he speaks again, “wait, wait,” he turns around. he looks at you with his grin still on his face. “i’ll leave. goodnight.”

he starts walking backwards. slowly. comically so. he bumps on one off the wall as he turns around. his little play doesn’t really work, though. because as soon as his back is facing you, he turns around again and runs to you.

he kisses you again and you kiss him back. he pulls away against his own will, “good night, baby.”

he sits next to riki with a red neck and flushed ears. he tries and fails miserably at acting like nothing happened at all.

“did making out with my sister help you regain focus a little?” his best friend huffs. jungwon’s eyes grow wide. “your hair are ten times messier than three minutes ago, dumbass.”

yeah. jungwon is terrible at keeping secrets.

분지 ܃ inspired by a jjk drabble 🎀 i hope you enjoyed <3

taglist open 。

[muli-wam]

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦　⁺ 　 . ✦

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro did not do relationships.

"Can I stay the night? I-" the brunette he was 8 inches deep in just a few moments ago would say.

Toji didn't even know her name. He just let out a mocking chuckle and told her to get out as he did pushups on the floor next to the bed.

"I'll call you an uber," he would say.

She would look at him in disbelief before scoffing and storming out with disheveled hair and clothes.

This was clockwork.

His routine consisted of boxing, flirting, fucking, and then more boxing.

He wasn't going to change that for some girl.

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro didn't go on dates, he didn't even look the woman in the eyes while fucking.

He has 3 strict rules for him and his hookups: No talking, no eye contact, and no kissing on the lips. (And always use condoms because the last thing Toji wanted was a child).

Toji doesn't think his rules are extreme, but others around him like to think so.

He's not a dick kinda, he just didn't like relationships. Whether that was romantic, or platonic.

They made him too vulnerable, and Toji didn't like let people get too close in fear of them taking advantage of him.

That's why he loved boxing. He didn't have to play on a team, which meant he didn't have to get along with anyone. People feared him, they kissed the floor he walked on—and he got to punch people so it was a win-win.

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro was content with living life in solitude.

But his desire for peace and eternal loneliness didn't make him some kind of humble, down to earth man.

No, Toji thrived off praise. He got off on people telling him how much they loved him, how much they worshipped him.

He loved going out in public in broad daylight where everyone could see the amazing Toji Fushiguro, even though Shiu, his manager, told him not to.

He loved the way people would crowd him, asking for pictures and autographs. He loved when girls would pull down the collar of their shirts so he could sign their upper boob and later get it tattooed.

"I'm not a perv," Toji would say defensively.

"But you are..." Shiu would reply, giving him an accusatory look.

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro loved attention.

So, you could imagine his surprise when he sees a cute girl at the grocery store, taking time out of his day to come up to you, willfully giving you the God-given opportunity to meet THE Toji Fushiguro, just for you to give him a look of annoyance and walk away.

Come again???

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro was pissed the fuck off.

But, since he's such a good person, he let that one slide and decided to give you a second chance.

"C'mon doll, you really gonna do me like that?" He purrs.

"Do you like what, exactly?" You sigh, not even looking at him, instead continuing to inspect which peaches to buy, afraid they would instantly go bad the moment you walk out the store.

"Playing hard to get?" He takes the peach out of your hand and brings it up to his lips, taking a large bite—making it wayyy more sexual than it needed to be—letting the juice drip down his wrist before bringing his head down and licking it all up.

"Gross, you know how many people touched that?" You say with a look of disgust.

He decided to ignore your comment because 1.) You are progressively bruising his ego with every breath you take, and 2.) He just ate an unwashed peach from the grocery store that may or may not have an undiscovered bacteria on it which may or may not kill him.

"Look, you dont need to act all uninterested to 'impress me'. I'll sign your tits and leave."

Now you were the one pissed off because who does he think he is?

This hot, muscly, meat sack walks in here like he owns the place, tries to flirt with you like some creep, and then has the audacity to offer to sign your tits?

What do you do?

You slap him.

"Who do you even think you are?" You snapped.

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro doesn't hit women. His mother always taught him that no matter how angry he got, no matter how much someone pushed him, to never lay his hands on a girl. Because that's the gentlemanly thing to do.

Sure, his mom taught him dozens of other 'gentlemanly' acts. Most of which he threw out the window, stomped on, and set on fire. But that one always stuck.

Except for right now.

Right now, Toji wanted to strangle you because you just slapped him.

Do you even know who he is?

Obviously fucking not because you just asked him, and that pissed Toji off even more.

Also the fact that you just publicly humiliated him, in front of at least 20 people recording, which would then end up on the entire internet for everyone to see 'The Girl Who Slapped Toji Fushiguro, The Most Feared Boxer in All of Japan.'

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say because he's never been in such a situation.

People always shriveled up and hid out of fear when he entered a room. Toji's presence alone makes children scream and hide behind their parents.

But you didn't do that.

You slapped him.

And it kinda turned him on.

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro studied your angry expression. The way your eyebrows furrowed, how your nostrils flaired with every heavy breath you took, your anger radiating off of you, making those around you—even Toji—nervous.

His cheek tingled, not because the slap hurt, it was pretty weak in his opinion, but because your hands were so soft and Toji wondered how they would feel caressing his face as he made you fall apart under him.

This feeling you gave him was foreign, and he craved for more.

He craved you.

"Are you single?" He suddenly asks.

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro flinches, preparing for another slap from you when he sees your expression go blank. Unreadable.

Getting killed by a pretty girl wouldn't be such a bad way to go out.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦　⁺ 　 . ✦

A/n: Idk what beef I have with Toji rn but hes kinda an asshole in this AU. I SWEAR THERE WILL BE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT reader is gna change Toji for the better ☺️👍🏼

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[buckyseternaldoll]

kinky side quest

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: Valentina warned you both: no kinky side quests. You hadn’t planned on it—until her words lit the fuse. The mission went perfectly. The real side quest? Very much in progress.

Disclaimer: 18+ (mdni!), explicit smut content, blowjob in car, clothed grinding, denied fingering, face riding, cunnilingus (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), metal fingers use, vaginal sex, rough sex, bathroom sex, shower sex, wall sex, riding, multiple orgasms, creampie, breeding kink talk, dirty talk, begging, praise kink, soft dominance, aftercare, established relationship, post Thunderbolts settings

Word Count: 9k~ish

Note: This was something I've written in parts before I took the time for myself and vanished. Any mistakes would all be mine. Hope you'll enjoy whatever this was 💜

You were deployed to clear a simple task with Bucky, your boyfriend—though sometimes it still felt unbelievable that you’d scored him at all. Valentina had given you both that flat stare before you left the Watchtower briefing room, like she could see straight through you.

“No kinky side quests,” she’d said, pinning you both with her glare.

You and Bucky had both nodded like good little agents. Really, you hadn’t planned anything. It hadn’t even been on your mind… until she reminded you. Until she said it out loud, and your entire body remembered you were ovulating. Remembered you hadn’t fucked him in days. Remembered how hungry you’d been for him last night when you’d come to bed late and he’d just curled around you to sleep, murmuring he was too tired to start anything.

You’d promised yourself you’d wait. Get through the mission. Earn your prize. You’d ask for him to rail you stupid after you both got home safe. That had been the plan.

But Val’s warning had lodged itself in your skull like a dare.

You’d kept your head in the game right up until you were actually in the car. Just a normal sedan—sleek and fast but nondescript enough for local traffic. Bucky had insisted on driving, fingers loose on the wheel, eyes sweeping the road in practiced arcs. He was so good at this part, so focused it made you ache.

It should only be forty-five minutes to the drop point. Easy. But you were in the passenger seat fidgeting your fingers in your lap like a kid. Trying not to look at him too much. Trying not to think about his thighs in those dark tac pants.

Because while your mind was set on the assignment, your traitor of a heart had latched onto Val’s rule like it was a forbidden fruit. It wouldn’t stop playing the what-if game.

What if he let you?

What if he wanted it too?

Bucky cleared his throat at the wheel. His gaze didn’t even flick to you, but you knew him—he’d been watching you out of the corner of his eye for the last ten minutes.

“Baby,” he drawled, voice low and gentle. “What’s on your mind?”

You swallowed, eyes snapping to the side mirror instead of him.

“Mm. Nothing.” You shifted your hips in the seat, realizing too late you’d been leaning toward him like gravity had given up on pretending.

He huffed a faint, knowing sound, thumb tapping the wheel.

“Something wrong?” he pressed, voice rich with genuine concern. Not annoyed. Not suspicious. Just… worried about you.

You hesitated.

Your brain screamed don’t say it. Don’t ruin the mission. You’d promised yourself. You were going to wait until the op was over.

But you’d been so wound up. So deprived. So embarrassingly wet for him for days now that your mouth betrayed you.

You twisted in your seat to face him fully, fingers clenching in your lap. Your voice cracked with nerves.

“Can I… suck your cock before we get there?”

It dropped into the quiet like a grenade.

Bucky actually flinched. You saw it—a tiny twitch of his jaw tightening, a hard swallow.

For one harrowing second you thought you’d fucked everything up.

But then he let out a short laugh—just air, really, a puff of relief, as his shoulders eased.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, and this time he finally glanced at you properly, eyes soft, mouth curved in that tired but patient little grin he reserved for you alone. “That was what was bothering you?”

You squirmed in your seat, cheeks on fire. Couldn’t look at him for a second.

You nodded anyway. Shame was there, hot in your belly, but so was something else—so was the defiance of I want you.

Technically, you hadn’t arrived at the drop yet. This was just transit. Not the mission. Not really.

Bucky’s brow furrowed for a split second like he was actually considering the ethics of it. But then he huffed again, softer this time. Like he’d decided.

“C’mere,” he said.

He took his right hand off the wheel—his warm flesh hand—and reached across to your restless fingers, prying them gently apart. He squeezed your hand once, firmly. Grounding.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he guided your palm down.

Down to his lap.

Pressed it flush over the front of his pants.

You felt the heat there immediately. Even soft, he was thick. Heavy. But under your hand he shifted and you felt it twitch—just a little at first, then again, firmer. Filling.

You bit back a whimper, heat roaring through you.

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Just let you feel it. Let you watch the way his eyelids went half-mast as his cock stirred and hardened under your palm.

It was wordless permission.

But he still gave you the grace of saying it.

“My cock’s all yours, baby,” he said quietly. His voice was impossibly tender. “If that’s what you need, take it.”

That undid you.

Your hesitation shattered, replaced by raw, urgent want.

You fumbled at his fly, unzipping him with shaking fingers. He lifted his hips just enough—obedient, helpful, letting you work without rush—to free him from the confines of his tactical pants.

And there he was.

Big. Thick. Gloriously hardening in the dark of the night.

Ready for you.

—

You didn’t rush.

You made yourself pause. Forced yourself to just look at him.

Your breath caught when you took in the sight of his cock, freed from his tactical pants—thick, veined, standing proud and heavy. Even in the near-dark of the car, you could see it: the occasional slash of passing streetlights cast pale ribbons across his lap, glinting off the slick wetness gathered at the tip. It curved ever so slightly toward you, shameless in its want.

Your mouth actually watered.

God. It was big. So fucking big. It always struck you just how massive he was, the kind of size you could never forget once you’d taken him. Exposed like this, twitching for you, he looked almost vulnerable. Needy.

You wondered—not for the first time—if the serum had anything to do with it. If it had made every part of him harder, stronger, bigger. Or if he’d always been this blessed.

Either way, you were the luckiest woman on Earth.

You owned this cock. Like a queen. Like it was a gift he’d given you to worship and keep.

You flicked your eyes up.

Bucky kept his gaze on the road, hyper-aware of their route even now. But you saw the tension in his jaw, the way the streetlights striped over the hard line of his throat when he swallowed.

His shifted his flesh hand on your back.

He was holding you there, palm warm and firm between your shoulder blades, thumb stroking slow, calming circles over your spine like you were the one who needed reassuring. It made you shiver.

The car’s interior was shadowed and private except for those brief sweeps of city glow through the windshield. You felt hidden and exposed all at once.

“Easy, doll,” he rumbled, voice low and husky but so soft. “Take your time.”

You let out a breathless, shaky laugh, your lips hovering inches from his cock.

“Don’t tell me that unless you mean it,” you warned, your voice cracking with how badly you wanted him.

His hand squeezed your back, fingers flexing a little like he was fighting to stay gentle.

“I mean it,” he promised, voice firm but warm. “I want you to enjoy it.”

That ruined you.

You bent closer, deliberately slow, letting your lips ghost over the tip in the barest, most teasing kiss. The salty smear of his pre-cum met your tongue when you finally flicked it out to taste him.

Bucky sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, grip tightening reflexively on your back.

“Fuck,” he whimpered.

That sound went straight to your core. You fucking lived for those rare cracks in his control.

You licked him again, circling the head, savoring the heat and weight of him, feeling the slight tremor that ran through his thighs. He pulsed in your hold, swelling even harder.

His hand pressed you just a little closer, not forcing but anchoring you to him. His thumb traced slow circles over your spine, soothing in direct contrast to the filthy act you were committing in the front seat of a moving car.

“Good girl,” he murmured so low you barely heard it over the hum of the tires on asphalt.

It burned through you like fire.

You moaned softly against the head of his cock, the vibration making him twitch, before finally opening your mouth wide and taking him in.

He was so fucking thick your lips stretched around him, your jaw ached immediately in that delicious, obscene way you craved.

Bucky let out a strangled groan above you, deep and broken, his fingers digging lightly into your back.

You bobbed your head slowly at first, letting him feel the searing heat of your mouth, your tongue pressing flat along the underside of his shaft as you sucked him in. The wet, sloppy sounds filled the darkened car, mixing with the low, even roar of the engine.

His hips shifted once, restrained—like every part of him screamed to fuck up into your mouth but he wouldn’t let himself.

“Jesus, baby,” he rasped, voice rough as gravel. “Just like that. So fucking perfect.”

You moaned around him, eyes fluttering shut at the praise, your own hips squirming in the seat as slick gathered hot and heavy in your panties.

You let your right hand slide down, wrapping tight around the thick base of his cock, your fingers barely meeting. You stroked him in perfect rhythm with your mouth while your left hand pressed hard into the muscle of his thigh, feeling it tense under your touch.

He was so hot. So alive. So yours.

You needed air. You pulled back with a wet pop, strings of spit stretching between your swollen lips and his glistening cock.

You let your tongue swirl around the tip, gathering more of his salty pre-cum and spreading it with relish.

“God,” you groaned, voice breaking on a whimper. You leaned in to press wet, open-mouthed kisses along his shaft between words. “I missed your thick, fat cock… too fucking much.”

Bucky’s chest rose in a ragged inhale. You saw the way his nostrils flared, eyes tight as he forced himself to keep them on the road.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice cracking. “You’re gonna kill me, doll.”

You moaned at that, licking deliberately slow down his length, tracing every pulsing vein, every ridge, until your mouth reached the base. Your breath was hot and greedy, your mouth glistening as you finally pulled back just enough to see his ruined expression reflected in the side mirror.

“My cock,” you sighed, nearly sobbing with want, before swallowing him whole again in one greedy slide.

Bucky groaned. A low, wrecked sound.

You worked him harder now, your head bobbing faster and wetter, your tongue pressing and flicking under the crown with every stroke. Your hand twisted at the base in perfect rhythm, squeezing tight, milking him.

You felt it when he lost the battle for control. The way his hand on your back shook before squeezing you tighter, pressing you close in silent desperation.

“Baby, fuck,” he gasped, voice going hoarse with strain. “That feels so good. So fucking good.”

You popped off just long enough to pant out a feral little laugh, lips slick and spit-drenched.

“I know,” you breathed, eyes glittering as you licked him from base to tip again, before plunging your mouth back down.

Your pace turned relentless.

Wet, obscene slurps filled the car, the only soundtrack to your sin. His ragged breathing cracked and broke, mixing with the constant rumble of the road beneath you. Your own cunt clenched around nothing, neglected, soaked through, but you didn’t care. You’d make him fall apart for you.

You felt him start to pulse, harder, thicker on your tongue.

His voice hitched, went ragged.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard once we’re back,” he groaned, the threat edged with promise, with desperate need.

You moaned around him, the vibration making him jerk in your mouth.

Your hand at the base squeezed tighter, stroking faster, matching your mouth’s relentless pace.

“Let go for me, baby,” you slurred around his cock, words muffled but clear. You pulled back just enough to meet his blown pupils in the mirror, your lips swollen and wet, your breath coming hard.

“Come for me, Bucky.”

And then you swallowed him whole again, eager and hungry, determined to take everything he gave you.

—

You felt it the moment he lost the last scrap of control.

Bucky shuddered hard, the tremor rolling through his thighs, his hand clenching against your back in a bruising grip as he choked out a guttural moan.

You didn’t slow. Didn’t stop.

His cock twitched once—twice—and then he was coming in your mouth, thick and hot, salty and utterly his.

You swallowed automatically, greedy, taking as much as you could. But there was so much of him, and you’d pushed yourself so deep that some of it leaked from the corners of your mouth, sliding down to your hand still pumping him at the base.

He cursed—low, strangled, wrecked.

“Fuuuck—baby—”

You finally let yourself pull back, gasping a breath as you tried to swallow the last of it, licking your lips shamelessly. You felt it smear on your chin and thumbed at it, giggling a little breathlessly despite how hard your own cunt clenched at the taste.

God. He always tasted good to you. Like an appetizer crafted just for you.

Your eyes flicked up to his face, taking in the sight of your normally stoic, disciplined supersoldier boyfriend looking… ruined.

His cheeks were flushed, eyes half-lidded and glassy from release. A faint sheen of sweat caught the occasional streetlight slashing through the windshield. But to your infinite jealousy, he wasn’t panting or out of breath. His chest rose and fell evenly. Enhanced stamina, you thought with a petty, hungry little growl in your head.

He was already recovering.

You wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand, only smearing a little more of his cum over your thumb before popping it into your mouth, sucking it clean deliberately, knowing he was watching.

Bucky’s jaw flexed hard.

“Fuck, baby,” he finally managed, voice raw and ragged. “That was so good. But…”

He swallowed, voice going lower, darker, more dangerous.

“I need more.”

Your heart skittered at that tone.

You let out a breathless laugh, reaching over him for the small pack of tissues you kept in the door pocket. You flicked one free and carefully wiped the remaining mess off his flushed cock, cleaning him up with an absurdly tender touch. He lifted his hips obediently, giving you access, hissing as the tissue dragged over oversensitized skin.

“Easy,” he breathed.

“Don’t ‘easy’ me,” you teased, voice husky. “You came so much I almost choked.”

That earned a strained chuckle from him, one that ended in a low groan as you tucked him back into his tac pants, carefully zipping him up.

You tossed the used tissue aside and smirked, settling back into your seat, your eyes bright and wicked in the glow of the passing streetlights.

“I know you need more,” you purred. “So let’s get this shit done ASAP.”

You leaned in closer, until your mouth brushed the shell of his ear. Your voice dropped to a filthy whisper, warm and mean and so needy you almost trembled saying it.

“Then you can fuck my wet cunt so hard you break me apart.”

He let out a noise halfway between a laugh and a growl, teeth bared in a grin that was feral and fond all at once.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

He didn’t even hesitate.

His right hand—his warm, calloused flesh hand—slid right back to you. You grabbed it, guiding it ruthlessly between your legs, pressing it tight over the seam of your tactical suit.

He could feel the heat. The damp. Even through the heavy-duty fabric, there was no hiding it.

Bucky sucked in a breath, thumb twitching experimentally over you.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, voice cracking with lust. His eyes flicked to you briefly before darting back to the road, like he couldn’t afford the distraction.

But you didn’t miss the way his pupils blew wide.

“See what you do to me?” you teased, grinding just once against his palm before pulling back, breath shaking.

His fingers curled reflexively, wanting to follow, to press harder.

“Oh, I feel it,” he rasped. His tone was low, dark, but the smile tugging at his lips was all Bucky. Soft. Devoted. “I’m going to fuck you relentlessly.”

You shivered at the promise.

He punctuated it with a single, deliberate kiss to your left cheek—a press of warm, slightly chapped lips that felt less like affection and more like sealing a contract.

You felt your heart kick against your ribs, your whole body thrumming with anticipation.

Sex for hours. That was the deal now.

And you’d be damned if you didn’t earn it.

You settled back in your seat, trying to calm your breathing, a determined glint in your eyes.

Your brain was already plotting the mission, calculating shortcuts, prioritizing targets.

For the good of the assignment.

And for the goddamn sex, you thought, biting back a delirious grin.

—

You and Bucky handled the assignment a little too quickly, if you were being honest.

Like the perfect, ruthless duo Valentina trained you to be.

Intels extracted. Servers wiped. Physical evidence torched. The drop point reduced to smoking debris in the darkness after Bucky triggered the silent detonator, both of you already on the move before the muted whump even finished echoing.

No one saw a thing. No cameras left to prove you’d even been there.

You tapped the comm in your ear, eyes scanning the dark street as you headed back to the car.

“Mission complete. Back to HQ,” you reported, voice low and steady.

Valentina’s cool voice crackled back a moment later.

“Copy. Don’t make me regret pairing you two alone.”

You smirked as you shut the comm off with another tap, cutting the line.

Beside you, Bucky did the same, pulling out his own in-ear and tucking it in his pocket. You saw the way his mouth quirked despite himself, even as he scanned the perimeter one last time.

Professional to the end.

But when you finally got back in the car, the doors shutting with dull thuds in the night, it was like all that icy discipline melted in an instant.

You tugged your tactical gloves off and dropped them on the dash with a clatter. The car reeked faintly of gun oil, burnt electronics… and sex.

You didn’t even try to be subtle about inhaling.

You glanced at Bucky as he started the engine, headlights cutting through the dark. Streetlights flicked past in rhythmic sweeps, carving his face into alternating slices of shadow and gold.

His lips were still a little swollen. You felt your own throb in sympathy.

He caught you staring. Didn’t say a word. Just smirked—slow, knowing.

That smirk widened when he reached across the center console and took your left hand in his, squeezing your fingers.

But he didn’t keep it there.

Instead, he let go and dragged his big, calloused palm right to your lap, pressing between your thighs.

You whimpered.

His fingers grazed the seam of your tac pants, right over your cunt, even through the thick material sending a sharp jolt of heat straight up your spine.

You gasped, pressing back against the seat, hand grabbing his wrist to either stop him or guide him—you couldn’t tell which.

“Still damp,” he said, voice low, cracked with hunger.

You swallowed hard.

“From sweat,” you tried to lie, your tone cracking in embarrassment, knowing full well he could practically smell you.

He huffed out a disbelieving laugh, deep and rough.

“Nah,” he said, voice going even lower, his grin turning feral as streetlights washed his face in amber. “Smelled too fucking sweet for sweat.”

You shuddered at that, your thighs instinctively pressing together around his hand.

Bucky’s fingers moved. He pressed more firmly, dragging slow, heavy lines along the seam of your tac pants, forcing a muffled moan from you.

You squirmed in your seat. The thick, tight fabric was torture. Too much and not enough.

You let out a frustrated sound and reached for the fly of your pants with shaking fingers, unzipping them with a harsh zzzzp.

Bucky’s eyes cut to you once, quickly, heat banked in his stare, before flicking back to the road.

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice almost lost under the hum of tires on asphalt.

You wiggled your hips in the seat, shoving the tac pants down just enough to free your cunt—still covered by the thinnest pair of dark stretch shorts you wore underneath.

They were drenched.

The proof was in the way the fabric clung wetly to you, your slick staining it in a dark patch that even the dim streetlights couldn’t hide.

Bucky let out a harsh breath at the sight, his hand immediately dropping to press right against it.

He grunted, fingers flexing hard.

“Jesus,” he rasped. “So fucking wet for me?”

Your moan was half-words, half-desperation.

“Always,” you managed, your voice wrecked.

You didn’t even try to be coy. Your own fingers closed around his wrist, dragging his hand tighter to you. You ground shamelessly against his palm, feeling the heat of him even through the thin damp shorts.

You hissed at the friction, head falling back against the seat, eyes fluttering closed.

He didn’t move away. Didn’t tease. He let you use him, fingers pressing in harder, tracing the soaked line of your folds through the fabric with slow, deliberate pressure.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice going even rougher, ruined with affection and lust all at once. “So needy you’re fucking yourself on my hand in the front seat.”

You let out a strangled sound that might have been his name.

His thumb found your clit through the damp cloth and pressed just firmly enough to make your hips jerk.

You bit your lip to stifle the whine that threatened to escape.

He chuckled darkly, that sound so deep it rattled you.

“Better hope no one’s watching,” he teased, glancing at you sidelong, eyes glittering with heat and mischief as the streetlights cut over his features.

Your breath hitched, heart hammering.

You smirked through the haze of lust, voice shaking but defiant.

“Drive faster, Sarge,” you managed. “Or I’ll make myself come before you even get me home.”

Bucky’s grin turned savage at that.

“Oh sweetheart,” he crooned, voice so low it felt like velvet dragging over your skin. He pressed even harder, thumb circling your clit, slow and merciless. “You’re not coming without me. That’s a promise.”

Your answering moan was wanton and helpless, your fingers still gripping his wrist as you rutted against his hand.

And Bucky just smiled, turning back to the road, driving into the night with one hand on the wheel—while the other stayed buried between your legs, making sure you remembered exactly who you belonged to.

—

Bucky didn’t finger you.

No matter how badly you whined. No matter how your voice cracked, wrecked and breathless, your hips rolling up shamelessly into his touch.

He just kept his fingers right there over your soaked shorts, teasing the seam of your folds through the wet fabric but never pushing inside.

“Please, baby,” you panted, your voice a broken plea. You grabbed his wrist tighter, forcing his fingers to press harder until you felt them sink into the dip of your folds—even through the thin, soaked barrier of your shorts. Your clit throbbed at the friction. “Fuck—please, finger me.”

He huffed out a breath that was half a laugh, half a strained groan.

“No,” he said, voice so low it felt like it vibrated straight through you.

You let out a desperate little whine.

He glanced at you sidelong, jaw tight, eyes flashing as another passing streetlight cut across his face.

“Not here,” he growled. The words were soft, but they snapped like a command. “I’m not giving you that in the damn car.”

Your nails bit into his wrist.

“Bucky—”

He exhaled sharply, his hand flexing against you just once before he dragged his palm away.

“I said no,” he repeated, this time softer, more patient, the dominant control edged with fondness. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard once we’re home. That’s it. That’s the deal.”

You grunted in frustration, biting back a curse as your hips bucked one last time. You could feel the slick mess you’d made in your shorts, heat and wetness smearing against his palm before he pulled away completely.

You shivered, angry at the loss.

But you didn’t want to risk making him change his mind.

With a ragged groan, you finally reached down, yanking your tactical pants back up. You wriggled your hips in the seat to get them over your ass, cursing quietly as the wet fabric clung to your folds in the worst way. You fumbled with the zipper, finally sealing yourself back up—like it made any difference now.

Your pussy ached.

Bucky didn’t help, either. He just gave you this smug little sideways look, his lips curling at the edges in a knowing grin.

But his eyes were dark.

Hungry.

You swallowed and shifted again in your seat, trying to get comfortable even as you stayed pressed close enough to grip his hand. You clung to it, even after zipping up. Even after you’d shoved down the raw want just enough to stop begging.

He squeezed your fingers.

Hard.

Reassuring. Possessive.

The rest of the drive back to the Watchtower was torture.

Because you didn’t stop.

Neither of you did.

You whispered every filthy promise you could think of, voice ragged with need. You told him exactly what you wanted—what you needed from him the moment you got through that door.

How you wanted him to shove you against the wall.

How you wanted his cock so deep you could barely breathe.

How you needed to taste yourself on him as he fucked your mouth raw.

How you’d been thinking about him all week, even on missions, touching yourself in the shower and whining his name.

Bucky listened. He didn’t shut you up.

He just smiled.

That little wolfish grin breaking out whenever your words got especially dirty. His jaw flexed tight when you moaned out your filthiest demands.

And all he did was grunt, voice rough, promising you over and over:

“Yeah?”

“You want all that?”

“You’re gonna get everything, sweetheart.”

He leaned heavy on everything, each time making your stomach swoop, your pussy clench.

“Everything you want. Once we’re home.”

You could barely sit still. The seatbelt felt like a restraint you wanted to tear off.

Your fingers stayed knotted together, his thumb dragging slow circles over your knuckles, deceptively gentle.

—

By the time you pulled into the Watchtower’s garage, you were shaking.

Bucky parked in the same precise, methodical way he did everything, even though you could see the tension in his arms, the white-knuckled grip on the wheel.

When you finally stepped out, your legs felt like jelly.

But you forced yourself to walk normally beside him through the darkened hallways, past the security doors.

The elevator ride up was somehow worse.

Your body screamed to press against him. To climb into his lap and grind down until you soaked his pants.

You wanted to maul him. Bite his bottom lip. Kiss him sloppy and breathless.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Valentina had cameras in all the common areas.

You felt her ghost in the walls even now. Watching. Judging.

So you stood there beside Bucky, trying to look normal. Professional.

Except your thighs kept pressing together in helpless, instinctive pulses. Your breath was too fast. Your face too hot.

Bucky noticed. Of course he did.

He let out a single, low chuckle that rumbled in his chest.

He gripped your hand tighter, fingers interlacing with yours so firmly you couldn’t pull away.

“Behave,” he murmured, voice so soft no one else could hear.

You shivered.

But you didn’t dare meet his eyes.

If you did, you’d lose it.

You didn’t know he was struggling too.

That behind that cool, battle-hardened expression, he was undone.

That all he wanted was to drag you back into that car, crawl over the center console, and fuck you right there until you couldn’t walk.

But he didn’t.

Because you both knew the rules.

For now.

But the moment that elevator door opened?

All bets were off.

—

As soon as the door banged shut behind you, Bucky didn’t waste a second.

He spun you around and pinned you hard against the door, his metal arm braced beside your head to cage you in. His right hand flicked the light switch on in one smooth motion, flooding the room with warm brightness before it immediately dropped to curl tight around your waist, holding you in place.

You didn’t even have a second to register the room before his mouth crashed into yours.

It was sloppy, messy, starved—all teeth and tongue and wet, hungry sounds. Your lips smashed together so hard it hurt, but you moaned anyway, clawing at the thick fabric of his jacket to pull him even closer.

He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth and bit it, just hard enough to make you gasp.

But then—just when you thought you’d drown in the filth of it—he gentled.

His lips softened against yours, his tongue slowing, licking lazily into your mouth like he was savoring you. Like he couldn’t get enough.

Your whole body trembled.

You felt his crotch grow against you—no other word for it. His cock hardened rapidly in his pants, thick and pressing into your stomach through both your suits. You couldn’t help it—you rolled your hips against him, needing anything, groaning at the friction even though the layers between you made it frustratingly dull.

“Fuck,” you panted, breaking the kiss for air, your head thudding back against the door.

Bucky pulled back just enough to look at you.

His pupils were blown wide, nearly eclipsing those blue eyes. His mouth was wet and red from your kisses, stubble scratching deliciously along your jaw.

He licked his lips once.

“You asked for this, baby,” he growled, voice low, gravelly, dangerous but so fucking tender underneath. His lips curled into a knowing, vicious little smile. “No backing out. I’m gonna fuck you so hard you forget your own name.”

Your breath hitched.

“Please,” you whispered, completely wrecked already.

That did it.

He grabbed you under your thighs and lifted you like you weighed nothing.

You immediately hooked your legs around his waist, ankles locking behind him, grinding your soaked pussy shamelessly against the hard ridge in his pants. He groaned, fingers digging into the meat of your ass to hold you up as he turned and carried you toward the bathroom.

You didn’t stop kissing.

You attacked his mouth over and over, teeth clacking, tongues tangling, panting breath filling the narrow hallway. Every time you rolled your hips into him, you felt him jerk slightly, his cock pressing harder into you.

“Fuck—so needy,” he growled, breathless this time.

“Yours,” you gasped. “I’m yours, Bucky. Always.”

That made him snarl low in his throat, and he crushed you harder to his chest as he kicked open the bathroom door.

He set you down only long enough to rip at your clothes.

Your fingers were shaking so hard you fumbled the zipper on your tactical suit. Bucky didn’t wait. He grabbed it, yanking it down so fast the teeth nearly split.

“Off,” he ordered, voice so low you felt it in your cunt.

You obeyed, peeling it away, your soaked shorts practically peeling off your sticky folds with a wet noise that made you whimper in embarrassment. The cold bathroom air hit your soaked pussy and you hissed, thighs instinctively pressing together.

But Bucky was already shrugging out of his jacket, tossing it aside. You helped him with the rest, fingers frantic as you unbuckled his belt, shoved his pants down.

His cock sprang free, fat and flushed and so fucking hard it slapped against his lower belly. You both paused for half a heartbeat just to look.

It twitched.

You moaned, biting your lip, fingers already reaching for it before he caught your wrists.

“Shower,” he ordered.

You whimpered.

He didn’t let you protest.

He hoisted you up again, your legs wrapping automatically around him, and reached behind you to flick the shower on.

Warm water blasted from above immediately, steaming the room. It hit your back first, making you gasp, then sluiced over Bucky’s broad shoulders and the hard planes of his chest. His hair slicked back against his head, water streaming down his stubbled jaw.

He pressed you against the tile, shifting you slightly higher on the wall, your slick folds lining up perfectly with his length.

You couldn’t help it—you shifted your hips, dragging your soaked, desperate pussy along his thick shaft, smearing your slick all over him even as the shower rained down.

You both moaned, loud, unfiltered.

“Fuck—baby—” he panted, voice going wrecked.

You felt him adjust, one hand bracing you under your ass, the other reaching between you to grip his cock, lining it up.

You barely had time to suck in a breath.

He shoved in.

You screamed.

Your head thunked back against the tile, eyes rolling as his fat cock split you open, inch after inch pressing impossibly deep until he bottomed out.

“Fuuuuck,” you sobbed, nails raking his shoulders.

“Yeah?” he growled, breath ragged against your ear. “That what you wanted?”

“Y-Yes—fuck—Bucky—”

He pulled back and slammed in again, the wet, filthy slap of your bodies colliding echoing off the tile walls.

He fucked you relentlessly.

He set a brutal pace, hips snapping forward with hard, wet slaps, your breasts bouncing wildly between you. Water splashed off both your bodies, steam billowing around you.

Your nipples grazed his chest, slick and swollen. Once, they smacked against his face as you jolted in his hold, and he groaned—open-mouthed and hungry—before burying his face between them.

He sucked a nipple into his mouth hard enough to make you wail, his teeth scraping, his tongue swirling messily.

Your moans turned into raw, broken sobs of his name.

“Bucky—Bucky please—fuck—so deep—”

He snarled, mouth muffled against your tits.

“Mine,” he growled, words wet, hot breath burning your skin. “All fucking mine.”

Your cunt spasmed around him, milking him as you clenched so hard you almost forced him out.

He held you pinned to the wall with sheer strength, thrusting deeper, harder, until your vision went white.

You screamed for him, voice cracking, nails digging so hard you drew blood from his shoulders.

He let out a strangled groan against your chest, his thrusts turning erratic.

Then he froze.

Burying himself as deep as he could, cock pulsing hard as he came inside you, heat flooding your core.

You felt every twitch, every thick spurt filling you, even as the shower water washed over you both.

You moaned for it. Wanted it. Loved it.

You clung to him, legs still locked tight, until you both finally sagged.

He held you there, breathing hard against your collarbone, his cock still buried inside you, softening slowly as your walls milked out every last drop.

When your legs finally gave out completely, he eased you down gently, arms wrapped around you to keep you steady.

You both wobbled under the spray.

He tucked a wet strand of hair behind your ear with shaking fingers, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You okay?” he rasped.

You nodded weakly, still shivering with aftershocks.

“Fuck—yeah,” you whispered. “More than okay.”

He smiled. Soft. Gentle.

“Good.”

He helped you finish showering after that, washing you carefully, checking you for any bruises he’d left. You washed him too, fingers tender as they traced over the strong lines of his chest, the scars you both knew by heart.

Finally you both stepped out, skin pink and steaming, drying off just enough to wrap yourselves in thick, fluffy bathrobes.

You were both still flushed, still breathing too hard, still so far from finished.

But that was for the bedroom.

And as he toweled off his hair, watching you with those blown, heated eyes, you both knew you were about to ruin the bed next.

—

You didn’t bother pretending anymore.

He dropped the towel, letting it fall to the floor in a heavy, wet heap. Bucky’s gaze tracked every inch of you, unapologetic, hungry.

Your bathrobe followed with a flick of your wrist, sliding off your shoulders like it offended you. His fell away too, careless, pooling at his feet.

And you both lunged at each other.

Mouths smashed together in another sloppy, wet kiss—needy, uncoordinated, breathless. His hands roamed your body without hesitation, palms hot, fingers digging in to leave bruises.

Your own hands scraped through his damp hair, tugging him closer until your teeth clicked.

He growled low against your mouth, nipping at your lip before sucking it into his own, tongue tracing the sting he left behind.

Your bare, slick bodies pressed together, chest to chest, skin sliding wetly. His cock, still soft from the aftershower, twitched between you, thickening almost instantly from the friction of your bellies rubbing together.

You moaned at the sensation of it hardening right there, growing against your stomach, the heat of him unmistakable.

You fumbled backwards, lips parting just enough to pant for breath before you fell back onto the bed with a bounce.

You lay there, hair splayed on the sheets, chest heaving, legs instinctively parting wide in invitation.

Your eyes locked on him.

He stopped, looming at the foot of the bed, gaze dropping to your glistening cunt.

His pupils were blown wide, nostrils flaring as he sucked in a deep breath.

“Fuck, doll…” he rasped.

His right hand, flesh and warm, wrapped around his own cock. He stroked it slowly, deliberately. The head already leaking, pre-cum beading before smearing over his thumb.

You watched, moaning at the sight, your own walls clenching in empty need.

“Bucky,” you whimpered.

That got his attention.

He climbed onto the bed, bracing himself over you, his cock dragging against your belly as he lowered his mouth to yours again.

You kissed hungrily, teeth clacking, breath mingling.

Your hand snaked between you, fingers wrapping around his slick length, feeling the heat, the pulse. You stroked him slowly, thumb smearing the wetness over the head.

He groaned into your mouth, hips twitching.

“Fuck—baby—”

You broke the kiss with a gasp.

“Please… finger me,” you begged, voice cracking with desperation. “I need it so bad.”

He stilled for just a second, eyes searching yours, face tightening with lust and affection all at once.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “I got you.”

He shifted, bracing himself better. He knelt between your parted thighs, feet anchored into the mattress for leverage. His flesh hand cupped your breast, thumb brushing over the taut peak while he supported himself on his elbow.

The metal hand slid down your belly, cool and hard and precise, making your muscles twitch.

You whimpered, hips rolling up to meet him.

He paused, watching you squirm.

“Spread,” he ordered softly.

You obeyed instantly, thighs falling wider apart.

He hummed his approval and pressed one cold vibranium finger to your slick folds, sliding it through the mess you’d already made.

You moaned, head falling back, eyes rolling.

He traced your entrance before pressing in slowly, one thick finger stretching you open, the temperature contrast making you gasp.

You clenched around it reflexively.

“That’s it,” he crooned. “Open up for me.”

You keened as he started pumping slowly, his metal thumb rubbing teasing circles around your clit.

“More,” you whimpered. “Please, more.”

He rewarded you immediately, sliding in another finger.

You cried out, walls fluttering around the intrusion, slick dripping onto his hand.

Bucky bit his lip watching you, the cords of his neck standing out with restraint.

“You look so fucking good like this,” he muttered.

You could barely answer, only managing a desperate moan.

He kept going, pumping those two thick metal fingers in and out, dragging them along your walls, feeling you squeeze down on him. His flesh hand squeezed your breast firmly, thumb and forefinger pinching your nipple hard enough to make you jerk.

“Bucky—fuck!”

“Such a good girl,” he praised, voice cracked with hunger. “Taking my fingers so well.”

You could hear the wet, obscene sounds of your cunt being fucked on his fingers.

You grabbed at his ass, nails digging in, pulling him closer.

He chuckled, low and mean.

“You want more?”

“Please,” you sobbed.

He rewarded you with a third finger.

You wailed, back arching off the bed as he stretched you wide.

“Fuck, fuck—baby—it’s so full—”

He curled his fingers deliberately, finding that spot inside you that made your vision shatter.

Your body locked up, breath stuttering.

He didn’t let up.

He kept thrusting, harder, faster, the cold metal unrelenting.

Your moans turned to screams, nails dragging red lines down his ass.

He dropped his head and took your other nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, teeth grazing before soothing it with his tongue.

Your entire body convulsed, muscles seizing as pleasure detonated.

He felt it, the way you clenched and spasmed around his fingers, and curled them even harder.

“Come on, baby,” he growled against your breast. “Come for me.”

You did.

You came so hard you saw stars, your pussy squirting wetly around his fingers, slick splashing onto the sheets in messy, humiliating waves.

He kept working you through it, thumb circling your clit, mouth latched onto your breast like he couldn’t get enough.

Your cries broke into choked sobs of his name.

“Bucky—baby—please—”

He finally slowed his thrusts, your cunt still spasming weakly around his fingers, making obscene wet sounds that filled the room.

You felt your walls clench one last time before going slack.

He drew his metal fingers out of you deliberately, slowly, letting you feel every ridge and bump as they dragged from your soaked, oversensitive entrance.

They left with a wet, filthy squelch that made your face burn with embarrassment. Strings of slick clung between his fingers and your pussy, stretching and breaking, leaving messy strands smeared across your inner thighs.

You shuddered helplessly.

Bucky's eyes never left yours.

He lifted his metal hand, studying the mess you’d made of him with hungry, approving eyes. Then he brought those slick-coated fingers to his mouth.

He licked them clean slowly, tongue dragging over the metal with practiced precision, making sure you saw every movement.

You whimpered at the sight, body twitching weakly on the sheets.

He smiled around his fingers, pulling them free with a soft pop.

“Still with me, sweetheart?” he rasped, voice thick and ruined with pride and lust.

You swallowed hard, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from how overwhelming it all felt.

You nodded shakily.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, voice cracking.

That earned you a low, satisfied rumble from his chest.

He shifted his weight on the bed, knees sinking deeper into the mattress between your spread thighs as he leaned over you. His warm, flesh hand braced beside your head, metal arm planting firmly next to your hip to cage you in.

Then he bent down and kissed you.

It was slow. Tender. A total contrast to how he’d just wrecked you.

His lips moved gently over yours, patient and grounding, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

You whimpered again, your hands fluttering up weakly to clutch at his damp hair, nails scraping lightly along his scalp.

He hummed against your mouth, nuzzling you with the tip of his nose, pressing sweet little kisses to your lips, your cheeks, your jaw.

But even as he comforted you, you felt it.

His cock.

Hard as granite. Pressed hot and heavy against your thigh. Twitching every time you squirmed, smearing his pre-cum onto your skin.

He wasn’t even pretending to hide it.

And you both knew—

He wasn’t even close to done with you yet.

—

You were still shaking.

Your whole body felt boneless, oversensitive. But the ache between your thighs wouldn’t quit. Even as the aftershocks made your cunt twitch and flutter, you felt yourself need again.

Bucky noticed immediately.

His thumb brushed your lip, swollen from his kisses, and you sucked it automatically.

Your hips squirmed, legs twitching open.

He watched your expression melt into need.

“Oh, you’re not done,” he rumbled softly, smiling darkly.

Your answer was a half-sobbed whine.

“I need more.”

He chuckled, deep and knowing.

“I’ll wreck you, baby.”

You let out a broken laugh, grabbing at his shoulders for leverage.

With all the strength you had left, you shifted, shoving him back against the bed. He let you, grinning, his big frame relaxing against the pillows with his arms spread wide in invitation.

You climbed over him on trembling thighs, straddling his chest for a moment. He grabbed your hips immediately, fingers digging in to hold you steady.

You kept going, shifting your weight until your dripping pussy hovered directly over his face.

He groaned the second you lined yourself up.

“Fuck,” he whispered, eyes blown wide as he stared up at your glistening folds. “Look at you.”

You didn’t wait. You sank down onto his mouth.

Bucky growled so deeply it vibrated right through your cunt.

You gasped, hands flying to the headboard for support as he immediately got to work.

His tongue was expert, sliding through your folds, flicking your swollen clit with practiced precision. The hot, wet strokes made your thighs clamp around his head.

He loved that, humming deep in his chest so the vibration traveled straight into you.

He slurped noisily, unbothered by the mess, his mouth smearing your slick everywhere. He devoured you like a man starved, dragging his tongue through the spill from your last orgasm, licking you clean only to make you messier.

You moaned, half-choked, rolling your hips desperately over his face.

“Baby—fuck—Bucky—”

He pulled you down harder, metal hand bracing one thigh while his flesh hand gripped the other, keeping you wide open for him.

Then he changed tactics—his tongue pushed inside you.

You nearly screamed.

He tongue-fucked you hard, messy, deep, alternating with dragging licks up to your clit before plunging back inside. Your hands scrabbled at the headboard, trying to get away and get closer all at once.

He didn’t let you move.

He moaned into your pussy, filthy and approving, eyes fluttering shut as if savoring you.

“Fuck—please—I’m gonna—Bucky—”

You couldn’t finish.

You broke apart on his tongue, cumming with a raw wail, grinding desperately against his mouth as your juices spilled.

He didn’t stop.

He licked you through it, swallowing everything you gave him, the obscene wet sounds echoing in the room until you were practically sobbing above him.

When you finally slumped forward, twitching and wrecked, he only gave you a second.

His arms tightened, lifting you like you weighed nothing.

You whimpered as he dragged you lower, lining you up with his cock, so hard it slapped wetly against your thigh.

He didn’t tease.

He shoved in.

You both moaned—his a guttural, broken sound, yours a strangled cry.

You barely had time to adjust before he was fucking up into you from below.

Your body jolted with every savage thrust. You tried to ride, but your thighs trembled uselessly.

Bucky noticed, smiling through gritted teeth.

“Too fucked out to move, baby?”

You mewled, half-sobbing.

He slowed, stopped.

But only to shift.

He sat up, his hands bracing under your ass, lifting you until only the tip remained inside.

“Hold on,” he ordered.

You barely had time to obey before he slammed you back down onto his cock.

You screamed, walls clenching violently around him.

He lifted you again, set the pace himself. Up. Down. Faster. Harder. Using his strength to fuck you on his cock.

Your breasts bounced, slapping his chest and face. He buried his face between them, biting and sucking, leaving raw marks that made you keen.

“Mine,” he growled, voice muffled. “All fucking mine.”

You nodded frantically, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes.

“Yes—Bucky—yours—fuck—”

He panted, hips slamming up to meet you, cock driving so deep you swore you could feel it in your throat.

Your own movements grew sloppy. You tried to ride him back, changing the rhythm—slamming down, grinding in circles that made you both curse, then bouncing again.

Your cunt squelched wetly, obscene, soaking his cock and thighs.

You felt him twitch inside you, cock pulsing.

He stopped again only to reposition.

He lifted you, arms flexing hard, standing up from the bed in one smooth motion.

You clung to him, arms around his neck, legs around his waist.

He walked you to the nearest wall and slammed you against it.

You gasped, head falling back.

“Bucky—please—”

He didn’t answer with words.

He fucked up into you, pinning you to the wall with raw, bruising thrusts.

Your back scraped the wall lightly with every slam. His cock pistoned in and out with wet slaps that filled the room.

You were crying out openly now, voice wrecked.

“Bucky—Jesus fuck—please—fuck—so deep—”

“Yeah?” he growled, teeth bared in a savage grin. “That’s what you want? You want me to breed you? Fill you up?”

You sobbed.

“Yes—please—fill me—want it—want you to come in me—”

That broke him.

He rammed in hard, deep, so deep you saw stars.

Your orgasm ripped through you violently, making you scream his name over and over.

He groaned, voice cracking as he spilled inside you, cock jerking, flooding you with thick, hot spurts of cum.

He held you pinned there, buried to the hilt, making sure you took every last drop.

You shook in his arms, twitching, boneless.

He stayed like that, breathing hard against your neck, his cock still sheathed inside your spasming cunt.

He kissed your temple, breath shaky.

“Good girl,” he rasped. “My good fucking girl. Took all of it.”

You whimpered, pressing your forehead to his.

His hands caressed you slowly, thumb stroking your thigh where it was wrapped around him.

He didn’t rush to pull out.

He just stayed buried in you, letting you both come down, letting your cunt milk him for every last bit of heat he’d given you.

And when he finally carried you back to bed, lowering you onto the sheets, his cum still leaking from you, he kissed you tenderly.

Like you were the only thing in the world.

—

Your body was limp, boneless. You felt the wet smear of him between your thighs, hot and sticky on the sheets, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to care.

Your lids felt impossibly heavy. You tried to fight it, blinking slow and sluggish.

“Mmh… Bucky, I’m—s’fucked up,” you mumbled, voice thick and slurred, the words tumbling clumsy and broken from your slack lips.

Your eyes only opened halfway before fluttering shut again.

Bucky let out a soft, breathless chuckle.

“Yeah, baby,” he rasped, voice hoarse but warm with amusement. “You are. Did say I was gonna fuck you so hard.”

You made a small, helpless noise of protest, shifting weakly on the sheets but barely moving.

He pressed one last kiss to your temple before pulling away carefully.

“Hold on,” he murmured.

You heard him pad to the bathroom, the water running briefly. He wet a face cloth just enough to make it damp and warm, squeezing it once before turning off the tap.

He came back to you immediately, dropping to one knee at the edge of the bed, eyes soft but focused.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he soothed.

He parted your thighs gently with one big hand, the other carefully wiping you clean.

You whimpered faintly at the contact, twitching once from oversensitivity, but you didn’t fight him.

“Shh,” he hushed you. “I know. Just cleaning you up.”

He was thorough but gentle, wiping away the messy streaks of his cum still dripping from your swollen, used cunt. He made sure you were as comfortable as he could make you, murmuring little reassurances under his breath.

Your breathing evened out, eyelids fluttering but too heavy to keep open.

“Mmh… i—sleep… you…” you tried again, the words falling apart, unintelligible.

But Bucky understood.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I know, baby. Sleep.”

He tossed the dirty cloth aside onto the floor without caring, then crawled fully onto the bed beside you.

He settled on his back first, then turned onto his side to face you. His metal arm slid carefully under your neck like a pillow, the cool vibranium pressed against your flushed, overheated skin. His flesh arm curled around your waist, dragging you gently but firmly into his chest.

You melted instantly.

Your head rested on his shoulder, nose pressed to his throat, inhaling the raw, spent scent of sweat, sex, and his skin.

He pressed a lingering kiss to your hairline, nose buried in your damp hair.

His fingers found your hair at the back of your head and began to play with it slowly, combing through the strands to soothe you.

Your breathing slowed even more, going soft and steady.

He felt you go heavy in his arms.

“Good girl,” he whispered so quietly it was almost for himself.

Your lips parted, a final sleepy huff of breath warming his skin, and you went fully limp, finally out.

Bucky smiled.

He let his eyes drift shut, fingers still tangled in your hair, body wrapped around yours like a shield.

He could feel the faint wetness still smearing between your thighs, his cum still inside you.

The thought made something possessive and hungry coil in his gut, even through the exhaustion.

He sighed, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

Tomorrow.

There would be tomorrow.

Rounds. Plural.

He fell asleep knowing full well he was going to fuck you stupid all over again come morning.

[papayainsectorone]

Corner Shop Boy

summary: corner shop and certified helpful neighbor lando and uni girl reader just kinda fall quiet quickly

content: no warnings, just fluff

word count: 5,6k

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

a thought: i wanted to write corner shop lando so bad bc how fucking cute can this man get??? i love these photos, i´m not fully in love with this story but i hope you enjoy it anyways

a´s masterlist

You’re already speed-walking the moment your feet hit the pavement outside the bus stop. The London air is humid and clings to your skin as you cut through side streets and familiar shortcuts, dodging puddles and grumbling at the traitorous bus that left without you.

By the time you reach the corner shop, your chest is tight from the effort, your backpack bouncing against your back with each hurried step. You wrestle with the zipper, tugging your apron halfway out before you even make it through the door.

The bell above the door jingles. You don’t even look up.

“Hattie, I’m so sorry,” you start, breathless, as you shimmy into your apron. “I missed the bus, and then I practically ran here—”

You’re halfway tying the knot at your back when you turn around.

“Really, you know I’m never late, I’m so—”

You stop.

That is definitely not Hattie.

There’s a guy behind the counter. Not tall but tall-ish compared to you, brown curls a little mussed like he’s been running a hand through them all day. Hoodie faded and hands casually resting on the edge of the till. He blinks at you.

“Sorry?” he says.

“Huh?” you reply, brain glitching slightly.

“You said you’re sorry,” he says, with a small smile.

“Oh. Yeah. And you’re… not Hattie,” you manage, eyes narrowing just slightly as you try to make sense of his existence.

“No, I’m Lando,” he says, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “It’s nice to meet you, Sorry.”

The delivery is flat, and the smirk that follows is clearly self-aware. It’s the kind of joke your dad would make after two pints and a long day of yard work.

You blink.

And then—god help you—you giggle. Just a bit.

You clear your throat, trying to collect whatever scraps of dignity survived your dramatic entrance.

“I’m—” you pause, smile crooked. “I’m not actually called Sorry.” You step behind the counter, shifting your bag off your shoulder.

He grins. “Oh nice to meet you, Not Actually Called Sorry then.”

You let out a soft laugh, then glance around. “So... where’s Hattie?”

Lando’s smile softens a little. “She had a bit of an accident. Nothing huge, but... her daughter finally convinced her to rest for once. She had to have surgery, so—yeah.”

Your expression shifts immediately, worry settling into your features. “Wait—what? Is she okay? What happened?”

He nods quickly, reassuring. “Yeah, yeah, she’s alright. Slipped on her front step, of all places. Surgery went fine, she’s just on forced bedrest now. Driving her mad, obviously.”

You exhale, some of the tension in your shoulders easing. “God. That woman moves more than I do—being stuck in bed must be torture.”

“Trust me,” he says, half-smiling. “I got a list of instructions longer than my arm. Including feeding her cat exactly at 6 p.m. Like it’s royalty.”

You blink. “So, you’re her neighbor then?”

“Since I was a kid,” he says, nodding. “She used to yell at me when I rode my bike too fast past her flower beds. Then gave me biscuits two minutes later.”

That makes you smile—yeah, that sounds like Hattie.

“She told me someone worked here a few evenings after uni, but didn’t say anything else.” His eyes flick to you. “Didn’t expect you to come flying in like that.”

You groan. “I swear I’m usually early. Like, aggressively early. Hattie always tells me to take my time but i could never keep her waiting.”

Lando chuckles. “Don’t worry, you’re only, like… five minutes late. And now you’re here to rescue me from guessing which shelf the stuff goes on.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, tying your apron properly now. “Okay. First of all, those—” you point accusingly to a half-filled shelf, “—are supposed to be color-coded left to right, not just… chaos.”

Lando glances over his shoulder at his handiwork and winces. “Ah. Right. My bad.”

“Red, orange, yellow, green, blue,” you list off, stepping over to start rearranging. “It’s like the snack rainbow.”

“I feel like I’m being lectured by a very kind but terrifying librarian.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you know how many people go straight to that shelf after school? It’s sacred ground.”

He holds up his hands in surrender, smiling. “Got it. Respect the sacred sweets.”

As you both fall into a rhythm—him handing you bags of candy, you sorting them with surgical precision—your earlier nerves begin to settle. He’s easy to talk to. Warm. Funny, in that effortlessly dumb way that makes you roll your eyes but still kind of smile.

You catch him watching you line up a row of Freddos like they’re soldiers. “You’re really serious about this.”

“You’re in Hattie´s house now,” you say without looking up. “And in this house, the chocolate is straight.”

He lets out a laugh that makes your stomach flip just slightly. “I’ll try not to dishonor her legacy.”

“Good,” you say, brushing your hands together like you’ve just restored order to the universe. “Because next, we tackle the crisp shelf. And I will judge your opinions.”

It’s quiet by the time the last customer leaves, a man who spent a suspiciously long time deciding between two scratch cards and left with neither. You watch the door swing shut behind him, then glance at the clock above the fridge.

“Closing time,” you say, stretching your arms above your head.

Lando looks up from the till, where he’s frowning at a half-crushed receipt roll. “Already?”

You nod, grabbing the keys from the hook near the cigarette shelf. “The days go fast when you’re busy rearranging every single magazine I already fixed.”

He flashes a sheepish grin. “Okay, but admit it—I got better.”

“You stopped stacking them upside down. That’s the bare minimum.”

He laughs as you both move around in tandem, flicking switches, counting the till, straightening shelves. It’s strange how natural it already feels—working next to him, the easy rhythm you’ve fallen into. The chatter, the small bumps of elbows in tight spaces, the way you both laugh at the same ridiculous brand names.

Lando’s wiping down the counter when he says, “So do you always close alone?”

You shrug. “Usually. Sometimes Hattie helps if she’s not too tired already. But I don’t mind. It’s kind of peaceful when it’s quiet like this.”

He nods, looking around the shop like he’s seeing it through that same lens. “Yeah. I get that.”

You flip the sign to CLOSED, lock the door, and turn to see him leaning casually against the sweet counter, arms crossed, watching you with a faint smile.

“What?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious.

“Nothing,” he says, but it’s not quite nothing. “You just… really care about this place.”

You glance around the shop—the familiar glow of the fridge lights, the warm smell of cardboard and old sugar, the shelf Hattie lets you decorate during holidays. Your chest softens.

“Yeah,” you say. “I do.”

There’s a beat. One of those quiet, still ones that could stretch or snap at any second.

Then he grins, breaking it.

Lando leans against the counter, eyes gleaming. “Alright, last serious question. If you could only eat one chocolate from this shop for the rest of your life... what would it be?”

You gasp, hand to your chest. “One? That’s brutal.”

“I don’t make the rules.”

You narrow your eyes, arms crossing. “So, I’m guessing you’ve already thought long and hard about your answer?”

“My answer?” He blinks, mock offended. “No—definitely not. Absolutely not. Never think about chocolate constantly.”

You tilt your head, grinning. “Okay then. On three.”

“1…”

“2…”

“3.”

“Kinder,” you both say at the same time—then crack up laughing.

And somehow, as the shop lights click off behind you and the door swings shut, the air cooler now with nightfall, it doesn’t feel like you’ve just finished a shift. It feels like you’ve shared something secret—something made of chocolate, teasing glances, and the kind of quiet ease that sneaks up on you.

Your backpack feels lighter somehow, and the buzz of fluorescent shop lights still lingers behind your eyes.

You walk slowly.

There’s no rush. Not tonight.

You smile to yourself. It’s dumb. It’s barely anything. But it feels like… something.

A few streets over, Lando fumbles with a spare key outside Hattie’s back door, a slightly squashed pouch of cat treats tucked under his arm. He finally gets the door open and is immediately greeted by the low, offended meow of an ancient tabby.

“Alright, alright, I’m here,” he murmurs, toeing off his sneakers. “Keep your fur on, man.”

Hattie’s kitchen is old-school cozy, floral tea towels, yellowed notes stuck to the fridge with novelty magnets, the faint smell of lavender and something baked months ago.

He fills the bowl, refreshes the water, lets the cat sniff his laces like it’s doing a background check. Once the judgmental feline finally starts eating, he pulls out his phone and taps Hattie’s name.

She picks up on the second ring.

“Well?” she demands. No hello.

Lando laughs. “Operation Feed the Feline: successful.”

“Good. He likes you. That’s rare.”

“I think he just likes the treats I brought. Spoiled little guy.”

“Good instincts,” Hattie says, then pauses. “And the shop?”

“All still standing. Till’s balanced, shelves are very… alphabetically correct. I’m under strict management.”

“You met her, then.”

He smiles faintly, glancing around the soft glow of Hattie’s kitchen. “Yeah. I did.”

“Mm-hmm,” Hattie says knowingly. “I figured you two would get on.”

He leans against the counter, tone softer. “She’s smart. And funny. She cares, you know? About the little things.”

Another pause.

“You’ll be good for each other,” Hattie says, like it’s already decided.

Lando doesn’t argue.

Instead, he rubs the back of his neck, glancing down at the sleepy cat weaving around his ankles. He knows better than to push back when Hattie gets that tone—like she’s already written the ending and he’s just catching up to the plot.

“I’ll check in on you tomorrow,” he says.

“You better,” she replies. “And don’t forget the nightlight in the hallway. The cat hates the dark.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He hangs up with a quiet smile and pockets his phone. The kitchen hums with silence again, familiar and gentle. He gives the cat one last chin scratch, flips off the lights, and locks up behind him.

His own flat is only a few doors down, but the walk feels a little longer tonight. Not in a bad way—just in that sort of floaty, stretched-out way that happens when your head is too full of someone to move quickly.

He tosses his keys in the bowl by the door, shrugs off his hoodie, and catches his reflection in the hall mirror. There’s a stupid grin tugging at his mouth he hadn’t even realized was there.

Yeah.

He really did like her.

As soon as you stumble into your flat, you call Hattie.

She answers after two rings, voice soft and familiar. “Hello, love.”

Your chest loosens a little just hearing her. “Hattie—hi. I just heard from… well, from Lando. Are you okay? He said you had surgery—why didn’t you tell me?”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m alright,” she says, calm and reassuring. “Bit stiff and grumbly, but the doctor says I’m healing just fine. I didn’t want to worry you, that’s all. I knew you’d call when you heard.”

You tuck the blanket tighter around yourself, heart still thumping. “Still. You could’ve told me. I would've brought you tea. Or snacks. Or company.”

“You still can,” she chuckles. “I wouldn’t say no to a bit of gossip and a packet of bourbons.”

You smile. “I’ll stop by.”

A beat of comfortable silence passes, then her voice softens even more. “So… how was your shift?”

You hesitate. “…It was good.”

“Mmm.” She sounds like she already knows. “You and Lando got on, then?”

You exhale, trying not to grin. “Yeah. He’s… easy to talk to.”

“I thought you might like him,” she says gently. “I’ve known that boy his whole life. He’s a good one. Always has been. Heart right on his sleeve, even when he tries to act cool.”

You smile into the phone, warmth settling in your chest. “He told me about your cat's royal meal schedule.”

Hattie huffs. “As he should. That cat has standards.”

You laugh. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay.”

“And I’m glad you’re getting to know him. It’s nice, isn’t it? Sharing a quiet space with someone who just… fits.”

You glance out the window, “Yeah. It is.”

The bell above the shop door jingles softly as you flip the sign to CLOSED, the last streaks of sunset stretching lazy across the floor tiles. Lando’s just finished sweeping behind the counter, a few rogue crumbs from someone’s snack run catching the light.

It’s been a few days since your last shift—enough time to miss the quiet rhythm of the place, and maybe the company too.

“Not bad today,” you say, dropping the till’s final count into the logbook.

“Record low for crisp-related crimes,” he teases, hanging up the broom. “You didn’t yell at me once.”

You smirk. “Because you actually put them in the right spot.”

“Growth,” he says, mock serious.

You both laugh, the kind that lingers a little too long.

He grabs his jacket from the hook by the back door and pauses, keys in one hand.

“I’ve got to swing by and feed the cat,” he says, casual, but there’s a slight hitch in his voice. “Then I was gonna pop in to see Hattie for a bit. If you’re not in a rush, you could… come with?”

You blink.

“Oh—I mean, yeah. If that’s okay with her?”

He nods quickly. “She’d love it. She’s asked about you, like, five times already this week.”

That makes you smile, heart warming at the thought. “Well then. I guess I should show my face.”

He grins, stepping aside and holding the door open with an exaggerated little bow. “After you.”

The air outside is cool but not cold, dusk settling low over the street in a kind of lavender hush. You rub your arms lightly through the thin fabric of your shirt, not shivering exactly, but definitely wishing you'd brought a jacket.

Lando notices.

Without a word, he tugs his hoodie over his head and holds it out to you.

“Here,” he says, like it’s no big deal. “You’ll get cold.”

You blink. “What about you?”

“I’m warm-blooded,” he grins. “Or maybe just too stubborn to admit I’m freezing.”

You hesitate for half a second before sliding it on. It smells faintly like laundry detergent and something sharp and warm—maybe cologne, maybe just him. The sleeves are long, your fingers disappearing in the cuffs.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

“Looks better on you anyway,” he says, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets.

You glance over at him, heart thudding a little too loudly in your chest. “Charmer.”

He shrugs, smirking. “Just telling the truth.”

You walk in silence for a beat, the kind of quiet that feels full instead of awkward.

“Crazy how different the shop feels in the evening,” you say, glancing back once as the windows fade into shadows. “Like it’s got a bedtime.”

Lando chuckles. “Honestly? Same. I swear even the crisps get quieter.”

You roll your eyes, but it makes you smile.

It’s quiet for a minute. Comfortable.

“She’ll be happy to see you,” he says after a while, glancing sideways at you.

“I hope so. I didn’t mean to stay away—I just didn’t want to crowd her.”

“You wouldn’t,” he says simply. “She lights up when talking about you. She said you bring good energy.”

Your cheeks flush. “That’s… really nice of her.”

He nudges your shoulder gently with his. “She’s got a good radar.”

You glance at him. “And what does her radar say about you?”

He grins, all teeth. “Oh, I’m a lost cause. But I feed the cat, so she keeps me around.”

You laugh, the sound light between the trees as you turn the corner. The street grows quieter, just a few porch lights flickering on, windows glowing warm behind lace curtains.

“She really means a lot to you,” you say softly.

He nods. “Yeah. She’s always been around, you know? Like… my backup grown-up.”

You smile at that. It’s such a him thing to say.

A few more steps, and he points just ahead. “That one. The one with the overgrown lavender.”

You spot it—cozy brick, chipped white trim, and a lazy cat curled up in the front window like it owns the place.

Lando slides his key into the lock and glances at you over his shoulder. “Just a heads-up,” he says, pushing the door open with a soft creak. “The cat… he’s a bit of a menace. Hisses at pretty much everyone—including me sometimes.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Good to know.”

He grins, flicking on the light in the narrow hallway. “Just, you know… don’t make direct eye contact or move too fast. Basically act like he’s royalty and you’re trespassing.”

“Sounds delightful.”

Inside, the house is exactly what you expected and nothing like it at all. Warm-toned wallpaper with faded roses, a crooked coat rack by the door, shelves crowded with books and tiny, mismatched trinkets—ceramic hedgehogs, a faded snow globe, old postcards tacked above the radiator. It smells faintly of cinnamon and lavender and something soft, like the kind of home that’s lived in and loved.

Your fingers brush a little framed photo on a side table—Hattie and a man you assume was her late husband, arms around each other, beaming. There’s a pressed flower behind the glass.

You barely have time to take it all in before the soft thump of paws sounds behind you.

The cat emerges from around the corner—long-haired, ginger and white, with a perpetually unimpressed face and the slow, deliberate gait of someone who knows they own the place.

He pauses when he sees you.

Tilts his head, whiskers twitching.

Then, to Lando’s visible surprise, he pads right past him, curls around your legs, and starts purring—loudly—rubbing his head against your calves like you’re his long-lost favorite human.

You blink. “I thought you said he hates people.”

Lando just stares. “He does.”

The cat flops onto your foot with a dramatic sigh.

Lando exhales, baffled. “Well… apparently he likes you.”

You glance down, smiling softly. “He has good taste.”

Lando gently lifts the sleepy cat off your foot and sets him down with a soft “Alright, your royal highness.” The cat flicks his tail like it’s the final decree of the evening and disappears down the hallway.

You both exchange a look—the kind that says, well, that went better than expected.

“I think he’s taken a liking to you,” Lando says with a grin.

“Clearly, I’m just more charming,” you reply, sliding your hands into the pockets of the hoodie.

Lando grabs his keys from the bowl by the door. “Shall we?”

Outside, the cool night air greets you again as you lock the door behind you. Lando’s car is just a few steps down the street—a battered little hatchback with a faded bumper sticker proclaiming something about the London Underground.

He opens the passenger door for you with a flourish that’s half teasing, half genuinely polite. You slide in, the seat cool beneath you.

Lando starts the engine, and the soft rumble fills the car. “Hospital run?”

“Yeah,” you nod, turning to watch the streetlights blur as he pulls away.

Lando’s hand drifts to the stereo, flipping it on to some quiet indie playlist.

The drive is smooth but quiet, the city’s evening rush slowly fading behind you as you turn onto smaller roads.

“So,” you say after a few minutes, “I thought we could grab something for her. Flowers maybe?”

Lando nods without hesitation. “Already on my mental list. There’s a little florist on the way, just about to close, but I’m sure we can charm them.”

You laugh softly. “You’re good at that, huh?”

“Charm and biscuits,” he replies with a grin. “Two universal keys.”

The florist’s shop is tucked between a boarded-up pub and a late-night café, its window glowing softly. A woman inside is just gathering up bouquets and humming softly, clearly preparing to close.

Lando kills the engine, and you both step out, the crisp night wrapping around you.

“Sorry, we’re a little late,” Lando calls gently through the door, pushing it open with a bell chime.

The florist looks up, wiping her hands on a towel. “Almost closing, but you’re lucky—just finishing up. What can I help with?”

You step forward. “Something bright and cheerful. Maybe some daisies? Hattie loves them.”

The florist smiles. “Daisies are good. Got a lovely bunch just cut this morning.”

She pulls the flowers free and wraps them quickly but carefully in brown paper, tying it with a faded pink ribbon.

Lando hands over a few coins. “Thanks, really appreciate it.”

You take the bouquet, inhaling the fresh scent of earth and petals.

“Perfect,” you say softly, smiling at Lando.

He catches your eye and shrugs. “Teamwork.”

Back in the car, the scent of flowers fills the space, mixing with the faint smell of rain-dampened streets.

“Ready?” Lando asks as he pulls away.

You nod, cradling the bouquet gently on your lap.

“Let’s go.”

The hospital’s sliding doors hiss open as you and Lando step inside, the scent of antiseptic mixing oddly with the fresh bouquet resting gently on your lap. Lando carries the flowers carefully as you both walk briskly down the quiet hallway to Hattie’s room.

When Lando knocks softly and pushes the door open, you peek in first.

Hattie looks up from her bed, eyes wide with surprise.

“Oh! You’re here?” Her voice is bright, disbelief mixed with pure happiness. “I wasn’t expecting visitors.”

You smile warmly, stepping forward. “Thought I’d drop by. You sounded like you could use some company.”

She beams, sitting up a little straighter despite the obvious stiffness. You cross the room and wrap her in a careful but heartfelt hug. She squeezes you back, soft and grateful.

“I’m so glad you came,” she murmurs into your shoulder. “It’s been a long few days.”

You pull back, brushing a stray hair from her forehead. “How are you feeling? Really?”

She sighs, the corners of her mouth turning up. “Better now. It’s the boredom that’s the worst. The stitches are healing fine, and the nurses are angels. But being stuck here… it’s not me.”

You glance over to Lando, who’s quietly placing the bouquet of daisies on the bedside table. The flowers brighten the room instantly.

“We brought these for you,” you say softly.

Her face lights up, eyes crinkling with genuine joy. “Daisies! My favourite.”

Hattie’s gaze flickers to you, then to the hoodie draped over your shoulders. She raises her brows in amused recognition but doesn’t say a word.

Lando leans casually against the wall, grinning. “I told her she’d look better in it.”

Hattie chuckles, then turns back to you both. “You two make such a cute couple.”

You and Lando exchange a glance, cheeks warming just a little.

“Stop it,” you say, but your smile betrays you.

Hattie winks, then reaches out to squeeze your hand. “I’m really glad you came. It means a lot.”

You settle into the chair beside her bed, the three of you falling into a comfortable rhythm of easy conversation and quiet support, the hospital room suddenly feeling a little more like home.

You stayed with Lando in Hattie’s room for another hour, the three of you talking, laughing softly, and just being there. The nurses eventually came by with gentle but firm reminders.

“Alright, lovebirds,” one said with a teasing smile, “it’s past visiting hours. Time to let Hattie rest.”

You groaned dramatically but smiled, knowing they were right. You promised to come back in a few days, waving goodbye as you left the hospital.

Outside, the cool evening air wrapped around you as you started pulling off the hoodie.

Lando’s brow furrowed with a hint of amusement. “What are you doing?”

Your cheeks flushed a little, fingers fumbling with the fabric. “Uhm, I thought… because I’m going home, you know…”

He stepped a little closer, eyes soft. “Oh, I can drive you. That’s probably way easier, right?”

You hesitated just a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, probably. Thank you.”

You started walking toward his car, the streetlights casting long shadows as the quiet night settled.

Lando’s grin widened, voice bright with teasing warmth, “Also, we wouldn’t make a couple that’s this cute if you weren’t wearing the hoodie, you know.”

You stopped, cheeks flushing again, heart skipping. You glanced back at him, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

The car’s engine hummed softly as Lando drove through the quiet streets, the city lights blurring past the windows. You watched the familiar houses slip by, your fingers nervously twisting the edge of the hoodie. It smelled like him—warm and safe—and you didn’t want to let go just yet.

When you finally pulled up outside your flat, the silence between you suddenly felt heavier, like the air had thickened with something unspoken.

Neither of you moved to get out right away.

You sat there, heart pounding, cheeks warm, stealing quick glances at Lando as he stared down at the steering wheel. He seemed just as nervous as you felt—usually so confident, now fidgeting with the car keys in his hands.

Then, suddenly, his usual easy smile faltered. He cleared his throat, voice a little shaky.

“Uh—so, um… maybe you’d like to go out with me sometime? Like, you know… a date?”

Your breath caught. You wanted to say yes, so badly, but the words tangled up in your mind.

“Uhm,” you stammered, voice soft and uncertain. “I don’t know if I have time… with uni and the shop and—”

He held up a hand quickly, cheeks coloring. “Yeah, no, I get it totally. I was just… thinking maybe at some point. You know, that’s totally cool.”

Your heart thudded painfully, warm and fluttery all at once. You wanted him to know that you did want that — maybe more than anything — but you weren’t sure how to say it.

There was a pause, the kind that feels like the whole world is holding its breath.

You gave a small, shy smile, and he smiled back, all awkward charm.

“Well… yeah. We’ll see.”

Neither of you quite knew what to do next, so you leaned forward and hugged him—a hug that was awkward and hesitant, but full of promise. His arms wrapped around you just as carefully, as if you were something fragile and precious.

“Goodnight, Lando,” you murmured.

“Goodnight, Not Actually Called Sorry.”

You both laughed softly, the tension breaking as you climbed out of the car, the promise of something new shimmering quietly between you.

As you shut the door behind you, you caught a final glance through the window—Lando sitting there, watching you go with that same goofy, shy grin. You smiled to yourself, heart lighter than it had been all day.

A few days later at your next shift, you push open the door to the shop and immediately notice something’s off. The lights are dim, casting long shadows across the shelves. The sign on the door reads CLOSED—but the door itself swings open without resistance.

Your brow furrows as you step inside, calling softly, “Lando?”

A faint shuffle echoes from the back of the store, followed by the unmistakable sound of something tumbling over and a quiet, frustrated “fuck.”

“Just one second, don’t come in yet,” Lando’s voice calls out, tense but hurried.

Curiosity wins over caution. You slip past some shelves, careful not to knock anything over. As you pass the gummies, you spot him.

Behind the counter, Lando’s set up something unusual—a makeshift table formed from a couple of chairs and some paper boxes draped with what looks more like a curtain than a proper tablecloth. He’s crouched down, fiddling with a lighter that stubbornly refuses to spark a flame on the candle sitting on the makeshift table.

Half smiling, half impressed, you clear your throat. “What exactly are you doing here?”

Lando nearly jumps, clearly startled that you’d caught him mid-prep. His hand jerks a little, almost dropping the lighter again. He looks up at you with wide eyes, cheeks already tinted pink.

“Uh—well…” He scratches the back of his neck, then gestures vaguely at the awkward little setup behind him. “Since you, um, don’t really have time for a date outside of uni and work, I thought... I’d just make it a date within this time. So you don’t have to worry. About time. Or anything.”

His words tumble out in a rush, every syllable uncertain. He fidgets with the corner of the curtain-slash-tablecloth, avoiding your eyes.

You blink, thrown for a second. “Wait. This is a—”

“A date,” he says quickly, then immediately backtracks. “Well—not like officially, unless you want it to be. It could also just be a very sad break room with... ambience.”

You let out a soft laugh despite yourself, the whole thing both ridiculous and incredibly sweet.

He looks up then, gauging your reaction. “I didn’t want to pressure you or anything. I just thought, maybe this way it’d be easier. No plans to move around, no stress. Just... you and me. And some slightly expired gummy bears.”

You take another step closer, the light of the single candle flickering between you.

“Lando,” you say, a smile pulling at your lips, “this is possibly the nerdiest, most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done.”

He gives a lopsided, sheepish grin. “I’ll take that as a win?”

You nod, eyes softening. “Definitely a win.”

There’s a moment of silence between you, gentle and warm.

Then you glance down at the little ‘table.’ “So... are we sitting on folding chairs and pretending this is a fancy restaurant now?”

Lando brightens immediately. “Yes. And you’ll be thrilled to know our tasting menu includes one packet of sour worms, a slightly crushed bag of kettle chips, and our personal favorite—Kinder chocolate.”

You chuckle, finally walking around the counter and settling into the chair he’d set up. “You really know how to treat a girl.”

He sits opposite you, finally relaxing, candlelight dancing in his eyes. “Only the best.”

You settle into the chair, the edge of the box-table wobbling slightly under the weight of a shared chip bag and two mismatched mugs that definitely weren’t made for anything fancier than employee tea breaks.

Lando leans back in his chair, leg bouncing ever so slightly, like he’s trying to play it cool but can’t quite stop the nervous energy radiating off him. You can feel it too, like something charged hanging quietly between you.

“So,” he starts, fingers drumming lightly on the box. “Tell me about... your most controversial candy opinion.”

You laugh. “That’s your date opening question?”

He grins. “Absolutely. It’s a high-stakes environment.”

You consider, tapping your chin in mock thought. “Okay. I think marshmallows are overrated. Even in hot chocolate. There, I said it.”

Lando’s eyes widen in mock horror. “Take it back. You’ve just ruined winter.”

“Nope. Spongy sugar clouds? No thank you.”

He shakes his head. “Unbelievable. I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

You both laugh, the tension easing just a little. It’s easy, being around him even in the most absurd setting. But the quiet that follows isn’t uncomfortable. It just... shifts. Deepens.

After a beat, Lando fiddles with the corner of a napkin, then glances up.

“Can I ask you something?”

You nod slowly. “Sure.”

“Have you, uh… been thinking about... that night?” He clears his throat. “The car. The drive. What I said.”

Your heart stutters, cheeks already warm again. You look down at your mug, then back at him. “Yeah. I have.”

Lando leans forward a bit, voice softer now. “I didn’t want to make it weird. I just—sometimes I say stuff and then immediately think ‘wow, that could’ve been way cooler.’”

You give a nervous smile. “You were kind of charming in a very... chaotic way.”

He lets out a laugh, visibly relieved. “That might be the nicest way anyone’s ever said ‘awkward.’”

You look at him for a moment, then say quietly, “I wanted to say yes.”

He straightens a little, eyes on you. “To going out with me?”

You nod, then shrug. “I just… didn’t know how to balance everything. Still don’t, really. But I like being around you.”

A quiet beat passes.

“I like being around you too,” Lando says. “Like... a lot.”

You both break eye contact at the same time, glancing away, smiling to yourselves.

Then, like he can’t help himself, Lando blurts, “Okay but seriously—if you ever badmouth marshmallows again I might have to reconsider everything.”

You throw a chip at him.

He catches it, grinning. “See? Already such a violent relationship.”

You shake your head, trying not to laugh too hard. “God, you’re annoying.”

“Admit it. You’re impressed.”

You roll your eyes but don’t deny it. And in that little bubble of store lights and flickering candle, with a mostly-stale chip bag between you, things feel good. Honest. A little messy. But good.

Maybe this wasn’t the date you expected.

But it feels like one that matters.

tag list

@mara1999 @random-movie

[writerpeach]

Voracious

IVE An Yujin x Jang Wonyoung x m!reader

25k words

Part 10 of IVED Vanilla Latte

pick me up, daddy

That’s it. No please, no emoji—just the assumption that you’ll drop everything and come running. And the worst part is, Yujin knows you will. 

So you grab the keys. Most people wouldn't be caught dead in this, the obscene price tag, absurdly polished leather interiors, the ostentatiousness of it all—

But the prying eyes can't help but stare from all sides once you pull into the parking lot. The way everyone looks, wondering who the hell would bring a Ferrari to a college campus, let alone a pink one—it's almost laughable.

Then again, when the roar of the engine hits, you have to admit sitting behind the wheel of this ridiculous thing makes you feel something—a strange sort of excitement. A power you can’t put your finger on, the urge to let your foot get carried away and peel right out of the parking lot. But the reason you’re here isn’t to show off or attract attention—you're here for Yujin.

Parked outside of the library, you don’t need to say a thing. Because who would miss a bright pink supercar showing up here? Not Yujin, not anyone, you're certain. 

This was the obvious choice, and she's not disappointed once she comes into view, emerging from the library doors and heading down the stairs with an amused smile. That's her in a dark hoodie and pleated skirt, legs bare despite the chill in the air, full thighs on display when she stops right in front.

Even in a snowstorm, this girl isn't going to wear pants. Not that you'd ever complain. 

"Really, daddy? The Ferrari?" Yujin asks as she slides right into the passenger seat, tossing her bag into the backseat. "When I said I needed a ride, this isn't exactly what I meant. This thing stands out like crazy."

"Sorry, it was either this or a cab. Just got whatever I could find the keys to."

Yujin doesn’t seem to mind the extra attention as she buckles the seat belt and rests her head against the cushion, kicking off her flats so she can rest her feet up on the dash. "And Wonyoung let you borrow this?"

You glance her way and just shake your head, starting the ignition and hearing that deep, powerful roar of the engine again. "You think I asked? She was still asleep by the time I left."

"You wore her out, didn't you, daddy? Poor thing." Yujin laughs and rolls the window down, tying her hair up into a loose ponytail.

"I didn't do anything. Woke up, went to class, then came home to grab this. When I left, she crashed on the couch. From studying too hard, I'm sure."

Yujin rolls her eyes, a hand covering her mouth to hide the obnoxious smile spreading on those pretty pink lips. "Yeah, sure. Wonyoungie studies—sure thing, daddy. Studying how hard you can fuck her, maybe."

You start to protest when the car pulls out onto the main street, pushing well above the speed limit. "She can't get through finals on her body alone. Everyone studies sometimes."

"She can sure try though. Maybe if there's an oral exam—"

"Both of you would probably ace that," you reply, hearing Yujin's delightful snort right after.

"Damn right we would. Top of the class, guaranteed." 

Yujin laughs again, head turning so she's facing you, enough to catch you staring at those long legs perched on the dash, her tight little skirt exposing so much flesh. She looks delicious, even in this casual outfit, but that's the case no matter the day, no matter the season or occasion. "Eyes on the road, daddy."

"Easy for you to say, brat.” 

Even caught red-handed, you have no intention to play dumb once Yujin is aware of the gaze you can’t take away from those scrumptious thighs. She crosses one leg over the other, giving this not-so-innocent little smile, with those dimples so prominent that it almost draws your eyes right off the road again. Almost.

"Poor daddy. Never able to focus around us. Must be awful, being trapped in a car with little ole me, wearing this short thing.” 

Yujin enjoys the tease, not moving her bare legs from that spot on the dash where they look right at home. She's playing with fire when that hoodie gets unzipped, exposing a black tank top riding high, showing off way too much midriff to go unnoticed. 

You sneak in another glance, one that lingers when you stare at those legs, and that deadly figure that has no right being so fit and curvy—your concentration’s worst enemy. "You really want me to crash this car, don't you? Wonyoung would kill me."

That playful smile widens, turning wicked. The hoodie gets tossed into the backseat without a thought, and the skirt—no doubt deliberately, rides higher up those thighs. 

"Then maybe you should watch the road instead of gawking, huh, daddy? Are my thighs that distracting to you?"

You have no response, although there's plenty of temptation to pull over, throw Yujin down on the backseat and make her moan, scream your name so loud everyone passing by can hear. But you need to keep those thoughts locked away, staying focused on the road—a battle that's not exactly fair with Yujin making it more difficult.

"I'm not distracted,” you scoff, not sure you even believe your own words. “Nothing you do could distract me—not your thighs, not your pretty face, not even your tight little ass. We're almost home, Yujinnie. I can give you all the attention you need then."

Yujin looks almost giddy. Delighted, really, being dared to destroy your composure. You’re not threatened, because what more can she do but sit there and look like a delicious feast, begging to be devoured?

You'll find out, you wager. 

Once the car stops at a red light, the windows roll back up when the chill starts creeping in. The click of her seat belt is the first warning, the second when Yujin starts crawling across the center console, inching closer to your lap. What can only be described as your fault—giving Yujin a perfect opportunity to see if you really have the power to focus or not. 

"Nothing I do would distract you, hm? Then I'll show you how distracting I can be..."

There's no escaping this—not with the light still red, traffic frozen. Yujin looks downright ravenous in this position, the delicious arch of her back while her fingers get a little too familiar with the zipper to your pants.

"Yujin—"

"Just focus on driving, daddy. Don't mind me.“ 

There's no way she's seriously going to do anything—and yet, right as the light changes to green, Yujin tugs that zipper down, unbuttons your pants, and slips her hand straight into your boxers. "No accidents, please. Would hate to total this fancy thing."

She says this the very second her delicate fingers wrap tightly around your shaft and start stroking, just slowly enough to bring you to complete hardness. It's this moment that you regret challenging Yujin to her own game. It's when she pulls your cock right out, pumping in agonizingly slow strokes that force you to stare at the road, no matter how difficult it is.

"This isn't too distracting, is it?" Yujin asks, and even without looking over, you know there's a grin on her face. You almost refuse to answer, hands on the steering wheel gripping tight, foot just a bit harder on the pedal. 

"N-no, not even a little bit. This isn't distracting at all."

 Oh, you'll probably regret that the second the words leave your lips. Not that Yujin needs the encouragement. She could have you a mumbling mess of heavy breaths even without a challenge.

"You sure about that, daddy? Don't you need to pull over because your cock is getting too hard?" Yujin isn’t going to hold back, you know that already, and you can already feel the struggle, the way her thumb rubs such a lazy circle against your sensitive head. 

You won't give her the satisfaction just yet, staring straight ahead to keep these tantalizing thoughts from running rampant. Nor are you going to taunt her more than you should.

That mouth is the worst possible distraction.

You've got little choice but to push onward as Yujin pumps steadily, tight grip never yielding, and you can sense those dangerous lips inches from your swollen cockhead, hot breath grazing far too close. But the only person you have to blame for this is yourself, for springing your own trap in the first place—you should have known better by now. So now, you'll have to endure whatever she decides to put you through, throbbing between her fingers, knowing she won’t stop just teasing and tormenting you to no end.

"Daddy—take the long way home. I'm having a little too much fun over here," she hums as her hand pumps with this adorable giggle, and the worst part is you're far too reluctant to tell her no. "Take the longest route you can think of—or better yet, just take a couple laps around campus. Drive real slow for me."

You shouldn't. That's a fact and the voice in your head is yelling that exact message. Yet it's quiet compared to Yujin's innocent request, the little flicks of her tongue along your slit, warm breath all against the tip of your dick. With all that you have, you take a deep breath and oblige Yujin. It's a little absurd to realize your own control in this situation, even more that you're heading back in the same direction from before so she can drive you more insane.

Sighing is the only response. This is only the start of what you're in store for—because this is Yujin you're dealing with, and no telling what sort of chaos her devious mind will have in store. Her hand is more confident now as she strokes faster, almost as a reward, twisting around, squeezing tight. 

"Make sure you signal," Yujin reminds you in this mocking tone that gets your teeth gritting as she applies the smallest kiss right on your leaking tip. As if that's what matters most. "Wouldn't want to be in any accidents on account of me, now do you?"

Before you can even finish the next turn, her mouth is on you—lips parting around your cock without warning, sinking down in one swift, hungry motion. That warmth engulfs you as she takes you deep, all the way to the back of her throat, your grip on the wheel tightening as she pulls off with a wet gasp and plunges right back down. 

"Jesus, Yujin—" you groan, knowing the next breaths you take are bound to be a struggle. One hand grips tight on the wheel while the other reaches down, tangling in Yujin's hair so you can force her head further down. She makes this muffled moan when her lips press flush to the base of your cock, throat so deliciously tight—so fucking warm that you can hardly focus on anything but that perfect fucking mouth. 

Another turn has you passing by the science building, where Yujin takes your cock deep without pause, bobbing her head, tongue dragging along every sensitive part. And contrary to your previous belief, it's far too distracting. Far too fucking difficult to stay focused while Yujin slurps your cock, without any reservations, humming through every inch she swallows whole. 

"You're insane, Yujin," you hiss out through clenched teeth. "Do you know that? Fucking insane."

Nothing but those cute, playful little giggles echo in the car as she gets you nice and coated with her spit. "I know." 

Your eyes stay glued on the road as much as you can manage, until you can't anymore, close to losing it when her mouth finds your balls and her tongue lavishes each. And if you weren't following the speed limit by the book, you're not sure how you'd survive this—

Yujin’s warm fucking mouth working its magic feels too good, her spit glistening all over your swollen shaft as her mouth sinks down your cock with such practiced ease. Up and down—a long slurp, back up to the swollen head to swirl that tongue along the most sensitive spots she knows so well, then down once more. Those silky lips sink further down your length, sucking in deep breaths whenever her nose isn't buried in your crotch, and you have to fight every urge to let the car drift when she gets too carried away. 

All while you're waiting for some oblivious pedestrian walking by with no idea you have your cock lodged balls deep down Yujin's throat. Another long slurp is too much—especially as you head further away from the quieter side of campus. 

"God, that fucking mouth," you groan in pleasure, unable to keep your focus on the road while Yujin takes you so fucking deep, holding you there for a few tortuous, excruciating moments. Only coming off your throbbing cock when she has to suck in the faintest hint of air.

"This is your fault, daddy, can't deny it feels good. Or are you too distracted while I'm choking down this massive cock?” Yujin mumbles through a series of sloppy, audible kisses, those perfect lips finding all the best spots. "Mmmph—it's okay, you can admit it.”

Not a fucking chance. You can hold on, ignore the warm lips sliding back up, the flicks of her tongue over the sensitive underside—you can stay calm until Yujin is trying to get every inch down the slick entrance of her throat, bobbing and slurping loudly, to really drag that groan out.

Or maybe you can't.

Not when she's so intent on swallowing your shaft, licking up and down, kissing every spot she likes so much. One hand squeezing at your balls. You can try to pay attention to anything else—a car, another street, another person in front of you, but nothing is helping. You barely have it in you to resist the urge to just pull over and fuck her throat until there's not a drop left in you to shoot.

"How's that focus?" Yujin asks, interrupting your thoughts as she breaks away for just a moment, only to drag her tongue down the whole length in one long stroke. Your knuckles turn white from gripping the steering wheel, her moans so filthy the whole time she sucks your cock. It's everything, and too much at the same time, the warmth of her mouth just too much to endure.

And now you're stuck waiting at a red light, right by the admission office where anyone could see you with your cock out, buried to the hilt in Yujin's inviting throat, taking it without any shred of hesitance. At least the interior is so dark that nobody should notice anything outside—it's only obvious when she raises her head up that the sunlight catches the shine on her greedy lips from the sheer amount of spit dripping down her chin.

"You're unbelievable, Yujin, seriously. You and that bratty fucking mouth," you grumble out, wishing that traffic would hurry up. 

"Me? You're the one who couldn't stop drooling over my legs the whole time. If anyone's to blame, it's you, daddy."

The light turns green again. You don't get a chance to argue when Yujin's back to blowing you. Just putting on the most sloppy, vulgar, reckless, indecent fucking display you've ever seen. "Almost there, aren't you? Better find us somewhere to park real quick then. If you can, with that dick so hard and buried in my throat."

You should have known this would be nothing but hell. 

Not that you're not getting any less close—maybe even closer, despite every effort you make to pay attention. The closest lot ends up being the rec center, and that'll have to do. You manage to swerve in, parking right in the back row through every motion that gets your shaft rammed harder in her warm little mouth.

"Should have made you fucking walk," you growl as you unbuckle your seat belt, finally able to enjoy Yujin's undivided attention. 

"Daddy would never make a pretty girl like me walk," Yujin says as her hand gives your cock a squeeze, those dimples coming out while she smiles like a smug brat. With the engine cut, the windows up—there's not much keeping you from giving Yujin what she wants and more. But the glance out the side mirrors confirms how risky the whole situation is, and nothing makes her happier than that. 

You’ve been through the ringer. This fucking desperate urge to unload inside that pretty fucking mouth, and watch her smile through tears and hot streams of white spilling from her lips. But she doesn't let you cum—pulling her mouth away at the last minute with an unashamed lick of those lips.

"Yujin, why the fuck do you think I parked, if you're not gonna swallow—" you snap in this low growl, wishing you had her mouth back where it was. But her lips remain closed—only parting for a giggle when she climbs back across the passenger seat, bare legs stretching across and feet meeting to rest in your lap.

"Because it's more fun to tease you like this," she quips, then presses her toes right against the head of your cock. There's nothing in the way anymore—an abrupt gasp when she slots you right in between her silky feet and squeezes. "Don't worry, daddy, this'll get the job done too. All the hard work I put in doesn't need to go to waste."

You can't say this is entirely unexpected—or unsatisfying in any case, how perfectly your cock fits between those delicate arches. How the friction sends these chills through you the second Yujin slides her gorgeous red painted toes up and down the head, slow, calculated, not needing much power or force behind her movements. They feel so goddamn good, so soft against your cock with that wide smile on Yujin's pretty lips.

“F-fuck—“

Those are the noises Yujin wants, the desperate moaning, watching you try to hold on as much as possible—as if she already doesn’t know this is where she needs you to spill. That's why her toes are on your dripping slit, gripping hard and rubbing slowly with an evil giggle.

"Gonna make you cum,” she simply says in her most innocent, adorable voice, like there isn’t a choice in the matter. The act doesn't match the expression on her face, not with those painted toes working magic as they tighten and flex to force out more moans. "Just relax, daddy—you deserve this. After being so patient, so very not distracted... "

Yujin won't relent, nor is she afraid to use whatever she needs, looking far too comfortable while she alternates pressure and teases this extra sensitive spot against the head of your cock. No more games, no more drawn-out moments where you're about to explode, but still hold back. 

"God, please—" you can only beg as her feet squeeze a little tighter, this deadly combination of her pillowy soles and long, perfect toes, every inch being stroked to perfection in ways you can’t fathom. 

Your moans sound so pathetic and Yujin doesn't give you time to speak any more, shifting forward until she keeps your cock trapped, one foot holding you firmly in place, while her other one keeps jerking off the head with relentless, nonstop strokes, painted toes all around your aching cockhead. Again and again, so merciless, your slit drooling over her toes and the bottom of her foot, so soft, all slippery and warm it’s not going to take much longer. 

“Look at your cock, daddy. It looks so good throbbing between my pretty feet. It’s so easy to get you off this way, isn’t it?” 

There’s nothing you can do but watch. Your gaze locked at how her toes grip your shaft, the soft sole of her foot gliding along, cock so impossibly hard when she presses down on the sensitive tip. “G-gonna—“

And then you explode. Your dick throbs, your head falls back, and you groan like Yujin has never heard before as your seed bursts across the top of her feet. Hot streaks color her painted toes, spilling more with every unyielding stroke, one burst after the other as she milks out as much cum as she can with a proud smile.

When it’s all finished, you're a shaking mess, one that Yujin revels in, arching that foot to collect what still oozes out. She never takes her eyes away as it drips everywhere, across her beautiful red polish, already getting between her toes that have yet to stop stroking. 

"There you go, daddy. Making such a mess on my pretty feet," Yujin praises, rewarding your efforts by easing the pressure around the head of your pulsating cock—then admiring the sight, a creamy white clinging to her toes, smearing it all over every part of her feet. "And I didn't even have to use my mouth."

"F-fuck, you're too good at that—"

"Of course I am," is all she can respond, all confidence and no shame in it. “Daddy should know I wouldn’t ever let him leave the car without blowing a huge load.”

That's the whole problem with her. How fucking addictive she is—how she can make you cum with any part of her body she chooses. And now here you are, with her sticky feet resting on your lap while you catch your breath.

"O-okay, we can head to the apartment now—Wonyoung is probably wondering where her car is..." 

Yujin seems to pay no attention as her red-polished toes curl and massage your cock for another moment, amused by how you've splattered her feet all over with your load. "Oh, daddy. As if I'd ever give your cock a rest. Wonyoungie can wait."

There's something delectably sinister about Yujin's tone, especially after you've thought this is over. Because it’s far from. The smirk that follows proves it, especially when your oversensitive cock can’t stop throbbing under that merciless rub.

"I wore this skirt for a reason, daddy, not just so you can drool and stare at my legs," 

Before you can even think of an answer, Yujin’s already sitting up, hand slipping beneath that tight little skirt and hiking it above her waist. You already know what’s next. She hooks a finger into her lace thong, and drags it down to show off the soaked mess she’s made of it, then tosses it carelessly into the backseat. 

You get an eyeful, drinking up every filthy little detail—her cunt bare, soaked, and on full display.

"My cunt needs your cock," Yujin growls, a demand that won’t go ignored no matter how sensitive you might still be. ”More than my mouth. Don't leave this pussy neglected, daddy. Need to fucking fill it up. Put a load in me until it’s dripping all over this seat.” 

Yujin makes her way across with one coordinated motion. That deadly skirt stays on as she climbs into your lap, thighs spreading around you with ease as she shifts her weight and finds the lever under the seat to lower the back until it's to her liking. You can’t take your eyes off her, even more so than usual. In fact, it's impossible not to watch, now that you don't have to concentrate on steering a multi million dollar car through campus. 

"You're really testing the limits today, aren't you, brat?"

Yujin responds to that with the only way she knows—she guides your shaft between her dripping lips, the head teasing just inside for only a few moments. "I don't believe in limits, daddy. Gonna fuck you right here, in this car, right in the school parking lot. If anyone sees—even better."

And it's not like you can do a damn thing to stop her. The moment her hips lower and your cock slips past her tight entrance, there's little else you ca do  but look in her eyes while she rides the absolute fuck out of you. Little else to do when every part of you is quickly enveloped in the intoxicating warmth of her soaked little cunt. 

In Wonyoung's car.

In the front seat, no less. 

In plain sight of whoever might be looking.

But Yujin gives not a single damn, and you don't get the chance to before her hips bounce up and down, dragging you all the way in, before rising up only to slam right back down. "You'll never get enough of me, daddy, never will, will you? Not me, not my tight cunt, not my thighs, and definitely not cumming deep inside me—“

It's so good it feels wrong, sitting in someone else's car, watching this girl bouncing so desperately in your lap. The squelch is unmistakable with Yujin's perfect, wet pussy swallowing every inch. 

"Fucking hell, Yujin, go slow. I just fucking came—"

But the look on her face tells you exactly what you should already know. That this is gonna happen the way she wants it, rough, desperate, your poor cock forced to go through it. There's a thirst in Yujin that's a bottomless pit, and you're not enough to appease it. That’s impossible.

She rides your cock like she's starving for it. Up and down, hard slams of her hips, making sure you feel every movement while her fingers tangle through your hair.

"Slow? Don't even know what that word means. Your cock too sensitive, too drained from emptying such a huge load on my pretty little toes? Must be," she says, then shuts you up when she grinds her hips back down, dragging you as far in as physically possible, hitting your cock against her cervix while that smile goes lethal.

“Of course, you little fucking brat."

She gasps in faux surprise at the words—before you get a squeeze in, grope her plump ass and spread open her cheeks a little, where your cock impales so deeply. Not once does the pace fade, and her hands tug at the hem of your shirt so she can pull it right off, joining the heap of discarded clothing in the backseat. Zero shame in anything she does. 

“Only fair I get something to stare at now, isn’t it? Need something to drool over when I bounce on your thick fucking cock."

You couldn’t agree more, as your hands move up and explore her body, the sweat on your fingertips only adding fuel to this already burning desire that can’t be cooled off. 

 "Fuck, Yujin, the way your pussy fucking devours my cock—"

“And your fat cock drives me crazy," Yujin moans out through each desperate bounce. Her hands find your chest, fingers digging in, every inch of Yujin dripping for the way you stuff her tight cunt. "Love daddy's huge, hard cock. Need it to fill this greedy cunt more than anything."

Yujin brings her mouth crashing back to yours, unable to resist any longer, teeth nipping your bottom lip. It draws this pathetic noise from your lips, but she's right back into it, her hips never ceasing while she continues to bounce, to sink your cock inside the warm depths of her wet cunt.

Her mouth and that tight cunt have far too much control over you. Too dangerous, too good. You could kiss these pretty lips for hours—could plow into her soaked entrance forever, thrusting up with your hands squeezing those wide hips, until you have no energy left in your body. 

"Feel my pussy gripping all of your thick fucking cock, daddy? Feel how wet you get me, even after you covered my pretty feet all over?" Yujin continues, a barrage of sin and lust that gets you more worked up with every syllable. 

"Brat. Love when you talk like that. Say it again, tell me what my cock does to you."

That mouth knows you far too well by now. Knows how much you adore that dirty mouth, and Yujin couldn't play along more perfectly. Her moans drown out the rest of her words for a moment—moans she gives when your cock pistons upward, hitting every angle. 

"You make me so wet. Fucking love daddy's huge cock stretching my pussy open. L-love it when these balls feel so heavy and slap against me when you thrust—" Yujin spares no details, nothing left unspoken, getting so sweaty while the windows fog and every inch is slick and smothered. 

Fuck, this girl is a dream. A force far beyond anyone's ability to contain her, you think, considering her voice alone is threatening to take you apart with little effort. Those words continue right into your ear while her tongue drags its way out to lick along your earlobe, getting another pitiful groan out of you,

"Love daddy pounding my wet cunt until he fucking creams deep inside. Love knowing daddy always fills my womb full with a huge load..."

"Love when you ride me like you can’t control yourself," is what you say, and give her tight ass a squeeze, bucking up into her when it's just so easy to.

That just makes Yujin bounce harder—your hips moving just to keep up, slamming upwards to meet with her delicious wet warmth that can’t stop devouring your entire cock. 

When Yujin grabs the hem of her tank top, it’s the kind of anticipation you’d never get tired of. Even when she doesn't fully remove it, no—just bunches it up over her bra, because that's just as satisfying, giving a good enough look at that gorgeous skin, enough cleavage and detail of her toned abdomen and everything her tank top doesn’t reveal. It's plenty.

Yujin likes being seen, loves showing her body off, even while her cunt takes and takes. 

And you take, too—mouth locking onto the curve of her throat, sucking hard at the heat-slicked skin. You know she won’t cover the marks after, not a chance. She’ll wear them like a trophy. That alone gives you permission to go all in, to leave proof of every bite, every bruise, every bit of payback for all the teasing she’s made you endure.

"D-daddy," Yujin mewls into your ear, pressing you closer against her, with nothing to hold her back while she bounces relentlessly.

You bite down hard to cut her words off and let that whimper simmer. 

More of this is inevitable. You can see the appeal of this, skipping class just to bury yourself inside Yujin in the backseat. A quick blowjob before lab doesn't seem quite so unattainable. Neither does her climbing into the car after lunch, especially if these slutty little skirts have something to do with it. 

"What would Wonyoung think? Seeing this pretty pussy dripping cum all over her nice car?” There’s a laugh when Yujin whimpers, her tongue flicking at the shell of your ear, salacious moans filtering into every little space they can. 

"She'd probably ask where the camera was," Yujin counters, snorting through her soft little moans. That pussy of hers squeezes hard, holding your throbbing length captive in this incredible heat and not letting go. There's no fucking escape—only these rapid, relentless motions and Yujin's full hips working overtime. 

"Both of you," you sigh, head tilted back against the cushioned seat and lost in the moment. "Are going to be the end of me. The absolute end."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, daddy. Two pretty sluts keeping your balls drained—such a rough life for you. It must be so hard getting to wake up with two sloppy mouths wanting their breakfast," Yujin laughs. "How cruel, am I right?"

When she says it out loud, you really have nothing to complain about, do you? Not a single fucking thing. Both her and Wonyoung happy to get their throats fucked every chance they get—bent over and taking it, filled to the brim or left covered in cum. There's not a real downside. 

Those perfect asscheeks bouncing in your lap interrupt the thoughts, an unending tempo, your throbbing cock impaling Yujin's cunt while those thick thighs put in the work, speeding up the process. This really isn't so bad after all. You can't help staring, those lips parted when she hits deep, the only time that mouth ever shuts up. This visual perfection riding your cock like it belongs to her, tits almost spilling out of her bra from the impact, tongue never denying you its presence. 

“Daddy, g-give me—“ Yujin doesn't finish as her moans turn deeper, get all breathy while she leans against the steering wheel and gets leverage, trying to swallow you even deeper. "Need this fucking cum inside me."

"Then fucking take it already, you greedy little slut."

That earns a rather hard, brutal slap on her ass, these noises loud enough to draw attention from outside—attention you'd welcome at this point. Yujin takes every inch of your cock with every perfect bounce, her cunt tightening impossibly more as her thighs tense and give you everything she's got.

"That's it, daddy, right fucking there—gonna make you shoot so deep inside of me. Need your fucking cum deep in this little cunt. Can't get off if you aren't filling me with so much it leaks everywhere."

"You're insatiable, Yujin," you say, both praise and accusation, getting closer and closer by the second. 

"That’s why you love me, daddy. And your balls are just begging to empty inside me. Can tell the moment I sink onto this perfect cock. You’re just as greedy as my pussy is.” 

Once again, she’s never wrong. Your next climax is so near you can taste it. You’re rather proud how long you've lasted buried in this wet fucking heat, but even then, a little part of you wishes for it to keep going, to show Yujin up and prove you’re capable of much more. Impossible, of course. When her cunt feels like heaven, the wetness that engulfs and suffocates your shaft, there's just no resisting. 

"L-Love feeling daddy so deep,” Yujin pauses to moan out, slamming down, ass crashing back against your thighs, that slick heat taking all you have to offer. One more harsh slam makes her quiver, every squelch echoing. "Every fucking inch splitting me open—"

There’s nothing left for you to do but groan out, before you can't take any more, when your cum pours into Yujin, when your balls tighten and spill their heavy load.

Shot after shot into her dripping cunt, so deep, thick streams erupting inside that tight wet flesh clenching tightly around your cock. Fuck, her tight cunt deserves it, so does Yujin, for the way she keeps fucking bouncing while that delicious pussy just can't stop swallowing your load.

There's so much. Far more than usual, despite already having cum once before. Every heavy shot adds to the growing mess, but she refuses to let you escape, just keeps bouncing in your lap, just keeps wringing everything out. She can't contain a thing—and clearly doesn't even try, milking out all that thick cum, all sticky and hot inside, so eager to drip down your shaft.

"S-so good, daddy," Yujin breathes out while all that cum goes right down her insides, clamping around your length as it continues to throb with each new spurt, sending so much into her tight entrance that you're a shaking mess. "All this thick fucking seed where it belongs. So much, fucking fill me up. Nothing better."

Yujin is taking it harder than you are when her tight body quivers through every little sensation, all too much for her clenching walls to endure when her orgasm rips through her. She can't stop clinging to you, each shudder stronger than the last—with no concerns for anything other than how fucking deep she has your load pouring, helping it sink all the way to her womb.

When Yujin collapses and finds your neck to hide away in, burying her head there, you pull her closer. Move all that messy hair away to feel the sweat clinging there too, her breathing ragged, panting right into your ear.

“Can't believe you came that much. You’re still throbbing.” 

It takes a while to form any proper response while Yujin just basks in the afterglow, not about to move a muscle, either. And now she seems quite comfortable with that.

"You were riding my cock hard," you mumble, wanting to lay back and collapse right here in the front seat of this expensive car with Yujin, listening to the sounds of cars driving by outside while you do.

"Oh, poor daddy. Did I break you?" Yujin laughs at your state—heaving out a mutual exhausted groan as her cunt squeezes one more time in a futile effort to milk out more cum.

"Always do, every damn time, Yujinnie." That gets a wider smile when she leaves one more messy, uncoordinated kiss, her lips trailing along your jawline for a moment. "This was—such a terrible fucking idea." 

Yujin says nothing for the moment, not with your cock buried and this fucking mess starting to drip out of her tight cunt. And even in the heat of the car, the windows a little too fogged up from the effort, you don't bother moving from this position. 

"The best kind of terrible idea. Like daddy always loves."

She looks gorgeous, even when sweaty, and it's a view from so close you can't take your eyes off. With this alluring mess of her hair, strands of dark locks sticking to her forehead, skin all glistening and sticky and still catching her breath while she stays there, you'd lick her clean without hesitation if there's even the slightest strength left. 

"Fuck, you're crazy," is all you can get out, giving Yujin's ass another hard slap, making the soft flesh jiggle.

"Yeah? Crazy for this huge fucking dick that ruins my guts—" 

You roll your eyes, not expecting anything less, even as her words hold a bit of that exhaustion. Yujin laughs and kisses the tip of your nose, trailing her lips down to steal a few pecks at the corner of your mouth, barely enough to call this a kiss.

"Get off me, so I can get us out of here. Before someone sees." The least you can do is suggest it, but you know the words do nothing to dissuade Yujin as she looks at you in amusement. "Yujin, this isn't a suggestion—fucking move, you brat."

All Yujin does is keep her arms around you, grinning wide without a care in the world. 

"What if I don't wanna? What are you gonna do, carry me out of the car with your dick still in my cunt? I'd rather have you stay stuffed inside my tight little pussy a little longer..."

It's these moments that confirm you'll never really defeat her, and Yujin fucking loves the victory of that. Being stubborn and giving you absolutely nothing you ask for. So you sigh, and shift around, gritting your teeth a bit harder when Yujin has nothing more to do but sit there with a wicked expression. "Yujin, please. Get off?"

That doesn't get any movement on your part, and Yujin takes pleasure in her non-compliance. In every desperate, pathetic moment while her lips remain teasingly close to yours, leaning in to cup your face. "But I just did.” 

Insufferable. 

"Brat."

She nods in response, like the word is supposed to offend, to somehow deter her from acting any more like herself. Like that's ever fucking worked. 

So if words don't work, there's no other option than to try to force her off. Which goes about as well as a pink Ferrari in a  parking lot at not attracting attention. The moment you bring your arms to those overworked hips, she catches your wrists and holds them up above your head. "Nuh-uh, daddy. Don't want to get up—so we're staying like this."

You're too weak, too exhausted to offer any real resistance, especially with the way she's looking at you—the sweet, innocent stare that is anything of the sort. As per usual, you’ll accept defeat, only giving her a small glare and sinking back against the car seat. But you at least get the chance to start the car back up and begin blasting the cold air through the vents, too tired to deal with any of Yujin's antics. 

So you’ll just sit here, exhausted and sweaty, with your cock trapped inside Yujin’s messy warmth, hoping not a single person is around. You're half tempted to drive like this, pants still around your ankles, with this impossible girl still seated on top of you—but you can't even see over the steering wheel, nor can you reach the pedals. 

For now, there's just silence. Yujin's pretty smile, these soft kisses along your cheek that are as gentle as you need them to be. Maybe it's the lingering high, the lack of energy, the smile that can’t stop off her face. This does feel nice, to just bask in the attention, and you'd savor it just a bit more—

Until the screen lights up and flashes an incoming call—it's Wonyoung.

"Speak of the devil. Probably missing you," Yujin chides, leaving you only to sigh and hesitate. You lean forward and put it on speaker, and within seconds you hear that familiar voice echo through the car. 

"Daddy—did you steal my car or did Yujin? Where the fuck are you?" 

There's not much more than a low laugh before you answer. "Which car would that be? You have like, a dozen or more—"

Yujin has to stifle a laugh, pressing her hand over her mouth and trying her hardest not to let Wonyoung know about her presence. You aren't going to tell her that she's here and still keeping you nice and cozy with her tight fucking cunt—not yet.

"The fucking Ferrari—what else? Did you take it out? Are you driving it? Daddy—"

You sigh, running your hand up Yujin's bare thigh to play with the skirt around her hips, getting a little grab of that tight ass to make her squirm. "No idea what you're talking about, princess. I'm just studying, here at the library. Maybe Yujinnie borrowed it."

Her palm slaps your arm—a reaction you saw coming the moment you threw Yujin under the bus. At this point, it doesn't matter who takes the fall because Wonyoung knows either of you are a suspect. 

"Uh-huh. You two do realize cars can get tracked, yeah? It shows where you are on the app—and right now my car is in the fucking parking lot right across the rec center," Wonyoung explains, the fury in her voice a little bit louder each word. "I swear to god if you two took my fucking car and—"

The call suddenly drops when Yujin presses the 'end call' icon. Which finally lets her take a deep breath and sigh, that boisterous laughter filling up the entire car once she gets the opportunity. "Tracked, huh? Who knew?" 

Yujin's a little too carefree with that information. Wonyoung is surely rushing on her way right about now, knowing for sure you have her precious car right at your fingertips. That's the final encouragement Yujin needs to move, to lift off you, a groan leaving when she’s empty. 

Her hands tug her tank top back down, taking a little too much time crawling into the passenger seat—so you can gawk at her body from behind, that delicious ass sticking out so shamelessly while your load trickles down those thick thighs. 

It doesn't stop once she slides back into the seat. Not even a single attempt to clean herself up while her cunt drips over the expensive, premium leather, like she enjoys leaving evidence of what the two of you did inside.

"Daddy, stop staring and drive already," Yujin says when she catches the momentary stupor, tossing your shirt back to you while sliding the seat belt comfortably over her frame. "We have to get your spunk out of the seats before Wony finds us..."

"My spunk? What about the fucking mess between your legs you made? It's fucking everywhere—"

“Don't worry about the details, daddy.” Yujin can't stifle another laugh while she adjusts her skirt and throws her legs back up onto the dash, shameless as ever. And those lace panties are a lost cause. 

The engine growls as you floor it out of the parking lot, with somehow not a single person around to witness exactly what transpired. "Maybe next time don't fucking drain me empty in the fucking front seat. Someone could have seen—"

"If someone saw us," Yujin cuts in with another giggle and that devilish smirk returning. "Then they should've said thanks."

You don't even have the energy to roll your eyes. So, while keeping a watch on the side mirrors for Wonyoung following behind, you head towards the nearest car wash, which is right down the street. Where hopefully, you can get rid of all the evidence of the crimes you've committed in her precious car. "Tell the brat to meet us at the apartment in ten minutes. I'll deal with her—"

Sure, that means admitting Yujin is to blame just as much, but there's no point hiding anything at this point. For now, you’ll focus on what the hell the two of you have to do to clean out her seats without raising suspicion.

"Already one step ahead of you, daddy. Told her to give us thirty and you're taking her out for ice cream. She'll forget about everything with the promise of sweets." Of course, Yujin's got the solution figured out to a problem she caused. 

"Bribery solves everything with her. I knew there was a reason I kept you around."

"I think we've established that reason is my charming personality and smile. Oh, and my tight ass." 

"Obviously. Your ass is definitely number one."

Back at the apartment, you drop Yujin off and take a moment for one last inspection, making sure the car looks perfect from every angle. By the time you return, Wonyoung is nowhere in sight, which means, thankfully, you’ve got a few precious minutes of peace left before she'll barge in and demand answers.

Yujin changes into a comfortable pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt, no time to shower as she joins you on the couch. 

"Do you think she's going to buy it, daddy?" Yujin asks, lying on her stomach with her phone in hand, trying to appear as casual as possible, like you've both been here for hours and didn't just defile Wonyoung's priceless car.

"Absolutely fucking not, Yujin."

It doesn't surprise you when you hear a beep, Wonyoung having unlocked the door and storming right in as she drops her bags on the floor, not even bothering to remove her heels as they clack against the wooden floor. "Okay, whose bright idea was it? Which one of you took my—"

Yujin, who can never hold back her laughter at the best times, is the first to speak up. "Took what? Your car? Princess, it's still in the parking garage, can't believe you're accusing us." 

Folded arms, raised brow, it’s the whole package. Wonyoung seething the moment she walks in. 

"Alright, if you two wanna play dumb, we can play dumb. I'll go check the footage—that'll show the truth." 

That only leads to Yujin laughing again, and this isn't going the way either of you had planned. "Daddy, Wony thinks she's got the evidence. Do you believe that?"

You're not even going to begin to go along with this, already dreading the consequences once Wonyoung learns the full truth. At this point, it'll save some time for you to confess now, and endure the aftermath as best as possible. "Yujin—is to blame. She needed a ride from the library."

"Daddy! Traitor!" Yujin says, that expression of betrayal when you throw her under the bus. Again.

"The library? Then why the fuck did it stay parked at the rec center for twenty fucking minutes?"

Yujin shoots you another look, the first time you've seen her lose that sense of confidence. Because she could get out of murder just by batting her eyes at anyone. Wonyoung is a different story, though. "Well, Yujin wanted to get a workout in, so we took a little detour before coming back home. That's it."

"Uh-huh." The girl raises an eyebrow, and clearly isn't convinced, and now she's glaring daggers, as if there's even the slightest chance you could both survive what's to come. "A workout? That's what you're gonna go with? You're telling me nothing fucking happened in my Ferrari?" 

"Nope. Just some cardio, a shower, then back here," Yujin quickly responds, putting that smile to work, not even going to bother putting in effort into trying to lie. Wonyoung gets a little closer to the couch, leaning down between the two of you and getting in Yujin's face.

She takes a long look. And then the reveal comes out of nowhere—Wonyoung dangling a pair of panties in front of Yujin's face, black colored, lace trimmed, and just fucking ruined in every possible way with her fingers around them.

"Cardio and a shower got these wet, huh? Care to explain, Yujinnie?" she asks, and a silence takes over the room, a few intense moments before Wonyoung throws the scrap of fabric into her lap. 

"Oh hey, you found my panties. Was wondering where they ended up, silly me." Yujin giggles at the wrong possible time, showing no remorse for how they managed to be in that state, and Wonyoung does not look amused in the slightest. 

"In the backseat. They were in my fucking backseat. Is that where you two fucked? Is that why my car was parked at the rec center for half an hour?" 

"Not in the backseat, obviously." Yujin offers this insincere, hollow little grin, eyes batting prettily as she hesitates for a moment. "Like I said—we were getting a workout. I rode daddy in the driver's seat. Until he emptied his balls. Well, until I did."

"Unbelievable. You two couldn't wait to fuck at the apartment, so you had to go at it in the parking lot like a couple of horny fucking teenagers?" She shakes her head, incredulous. "I swear, you'd both fuck on my bedroom floor if there wasn't a perfectly good bed."

And now you can't believe what you're hearing. That Wonyoung of all people is lecturing about self control in public, like she's forgotten the time she dragged you to the stairwell landing by the art wing so you could fuck her throat before class.

The nerve. 

With a deep sigh, Yujin takes the lead this time to save you the struggle. "Fine, guilty as charged, princess. But your car is cleaner than new—we did a full detail too. There's not a single bit of jizz..."

Wonyoung covers Yujin's mouth before she has the chance to continue with that explanation. "I didn't need the fucking details. Gonna pretend like I never heard that. We all good here, or is there anything else I should know about?" 

"That's everything," Yujin answers with a devious smile, enjoying not having to give much in the way of an apology. "Turns out daddy can drive really well when his cock is down my throat. Gotta remember that for future road trips—"

This time, you're the one covering Yujin's mouth, knowing that's a little too much information than needed.

Thankfully, Wonyoung doesn't seem to mind, or maybe she's just ignored it entirely. "Great. So I heard I was being treated to ice cream? I want mint chocolate chip—"

Oh, if only all of Wonyoung's complaints could be solved with the promise of ice cream. Then again, maybe things would be a little too quiet around the apartment.

"We're taking a different car, though. I'm not gonna sit my ass in cum-stained seats."

And she's back to normal in a flash. 

Yujin hops off the couch, being dragged along with Wonyoung by the wrist as her bubbly attitude shows no signs of dissipating. As if none of this is a big deal at all. 

"Coming, daddy?"

"Hey, that's not fair," Yujin whines, clutching a plastic spoon tightly as she scrapes every bit of mint chocolate ice cream left at the bottom of the bowl.

"Neither is stealing my fucking car for a quick fuck." Wonyoung snatches back the spoon in retaliation to try and find any last remnants, not having any luck. Ice cream parlors and petty fights—suddenly, you’ve got déjà vu.

"It wasn't a quick fuck," Yujin counters, trying to get out of those with her best weapon, her charm and that smile. "I needed a ride, and you weren't answering. So daddy graciously came to my rescue."

This argument's going nowhere fast, and it's not really yours to be having anyway. Yujin can win or lose, no difference will change anything. Although, it's rather comical how similar the two of them can be—arguing over the same damn thing and you stuck in the middle.

"It doesn't matter what kind of a fuck it was," Wonyoung lashes back before shooting you an accusatory look. "What's done is done. So like I said—now I get daddy for the rest of the day. The whole night, as an apology."

"That's not even close to fair, and you know it. Don't act like you've never gotten railed in anything I own, princess."

That has Wonyoung scoffing in response and tossing the empty ice cream container right into the nearest trash can. "That's fucking different. And I at least have the decency to make daddy pull over so he can rail me against the hood and not in the backseat!"

Now the two of them are yelling, and attracting the attention of practically the whole shop—although their words start to blend into nothingness.

"It wasn't the backseat, like I said. I rode daddy in the driver's seat after I blew him on the way back," Yujin insists, and just by the way they're moving closer to each other you can tell this is only going to end badly. "So if anything, you should thank me since we made the car even cleaner."

"Oh, that's even better! Thank you for leaving me sticky fucking seats, you greedy little whore," Wonyoung argues right back, shaking her head in disgust. "You owe me a new fucking car to replace that one. I can't even buy another since I'm still blacklisted just for wanting a pretty pink one."

Now Yujin can't even stop laughing, this ridiculous notion that Wonyoung genuinely is going to hold her liable for something that had both your approval. And your head is starting to throb the more this goes on. 

"You can have daddy for two hours. Two—uninterrupted. Then I'm getting in on the fun whether you like it or not. You steal him enough as is." 

And once again, you're being offered like property, like you have no say in what happens next. Wonyoung at least looks happy that Yujin's agreed on a compromise of sorts, even if it comes at your expense. Not that claiming your time is necessarily the worst trade-off. 

"I don't steal—whatever, so long as he's filling me up, I'll be satisfied. Deal."

Once again, you're stuck in this weird, albeit envious predicament that has them tugging either side of you. Two hours with Wonyoung as your 'punishment'? You can think of worse things. No doubt most of it will be her moaning from whatever place she chooses this time to spread her legs—a sacrifice for the greater good.

"Here? You want to do this here?” 

Wonyoung just scoffs, like you're the one being unreasonable. Of course she'd come back here—a petty little revenge trip, dragging you right back to the scene of the crime. She takes the stairs ahead of you, the hem of her white dress revealing more than necessary. All deliberate, of course, while you have the perfect view of her long, shapely legs.

It's nothing flashy for once, simple, sleeveless, a little clingy in the right places, but it’s enough to get you staring. 

"Being banned from one library isn't enough?” you ask, as if you actually have a say in this. 

"What, Yujinnie can study in here all she wants, but I can't?" Wonyoung asks while the two of you head up. The sound of her stilettos hitting the steps gets amplified, a clack with every step that grows louder, her annoyance the motivation that carries her upward.

"Studying? What exactly are you wanting to study here, princess? Other than that dress barely covering your ass, I can't think of anything worth studying here." 

Wonyoung sighs and keeps walking, stopping when the both of you reach the top step. "Pervert. Fucking pervert, you are," she says, and glances over her shoulder with a look that says the exact opposite. And then—a single twirl, one fluid motion that catches the breeze enough to flash a hint of pink lace and the curve of her ass, gone as quickly as it appears.

"Me, a pervert? Sure. I don't see you complaining," you remind her, like there was a chance Wonyoung forgot who had instigated this. "What is with you two and public places, today? Is the bedroom too mundane for your taste?"

There's that angry stare in her eyes that appears right as your fingers interlock with hers, Wonyoung trying to guide you to wherever her heart desires. "Why would I need a bedroom when you're ready to plow me right wherever I say, daddy?"

You have nothing to deny that accusation when Wonyoung squeezes your hand and grins wider. This other library across campus is just another box to check off. And wherever else it's about to be after this.

At least she has the sense to admit it. It's the least you could expect for being dragged here. 

With Wonyoung pulling a few steps ahead, you make it to the third floor of the library, a floor she reassures absolutely no one spends any time in an old and run down area like this one is. You can’t say she’s wrong about that. The lighting is dimmer up here, half the overhead lights flickering, the shelves old, dusty, and full of books no one ever reads.

And aside from the two of you, the only sign of life is the head librarian—tucked behind a desk in the far corner, too buried in her monitor to care. 

So you head deeper into the back, past the 'no food or drink' sign that's the least of your concern, too focused on those heels that clatter past the shelves, and those mile-long legs of Wonyoung tempting with every step. She stops on a dime, a secluded little corner that's going to be nothing but trouble. 

"This should do," Wonyoung muses, dropping her bag on a table right next to her, and her cardigan on the back of the seat as she glances around just in case of any stragglers. None in sight, thankfully. "Sit, daddy. We have some studying to do."

Yeah, studying. Even with the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, the hardback leather bound encyclopedias collecting dust, this location couldn't possibly be anything more than a front. But you'll indulge the brat for a fleeting moment, and sit down across from where she is. And for once, she's playing the part of student, taking out her laptop and at least pretending to focus, if only for show.

"What are we studying, princess?" Nothing but a loud slurp of Wonyoung's iced coffee answers, obnoxious as she is pretty. A few more sips as those perfectly manicured fingers clicking away at the keyboard, entirely in her own little world.

She's silent. Too quiet. This girl who can't go a single moment without hearing her own voice. Something is off—you can just tell that whatever Wonyoung has brewing in that pretty head of hers is never any good. Never.

More sips of her drink, without a word spoken in between. Even when she removes her heels, one at a time, kicking them off as they fall to the floor with a little thud. Not a sound when she slides her barefoot across your thigh, inching higher up until it's right between your legs—and her toes curl right against your crotch. 

“Wonyoung.” 

Nothing said. Absolutely nothing. Another sip of coffee while she just presses her foot harder, rubbing against the fabric of your pants and stroking along the outline of your cock. Your pants tighten against your own volition, and you're not even looking under the table, not giving the satisfaction. Instead, you stare intently, try to make her falter even for the smallest moment.

"Studying? Is this what this is, princess?" More sips, fighting for the last drop while you're trying not to make a sound from the teasing touch her pretty toes dole out.

"Studying, yes. Studying how hard you can get. Good start,” Wonyoung finally replies, eyes still locked on the screen. She doesn't look at you—just keeps her foot pressed firmly over your crotch, studying all the twitches you make, growing harder by the second. 

"If you wanted me hard," you start, pausing to stifle a moan escaping your mouth, knowing you can't make the slightest sound here. "We could have stayed at the apartment—“ 

"Where's the fun in that? It's called research, daddy. And I get two hours to do as I please. Without Yujin butting in."

That foot between your thighs just gets bolder and bolder, more forceful as she drags her foot up and down, making your pants painfully tight. There's no denying just how fucking hard you're getting. Wonyoung doesn't even give a glance at anything but her screen, as she keeps stroking up and down with those perfect, glittery pink painted toes, gripping hard, doing everything possible to get a groan.

"Remember—quiet," Wonyoung taunts as she doubles down, pressing against every throb she can feel through your pants, while you do your best to pretend it’s not happening. But you can't. Not when you finally bring your gaze to where you're getting teased and god—you grab her ankle, not to push her off, but to keep her in place, keep that pressure right where it belongs.

Wonyoung doesn’t miss her chance to flex her toes one last time, then just like that—she pulls away, not even sparing you a glance.

"Think I've had enough studying for today…” Wonyoung says as she shoves her laptop and the rest of her things into her bag. She saunters around the table, still barefoot, until she’s at your side. A quick lean in so the softness of her lips drops a small kiss to the corner of your mouth, before she lifts herself up to sit on the edge of the table, legs parted enough for you to glimpse what's in between.

Those little pink panties are barely covering her cunt, just the thinnest fabric right between those creamy thighs. You can almost see every detail, especially with the way she keeps her legs spread just for you—and now your dick aches even more. 

"Look what daddy did to me, got me all wet. Guess it's time for a study break."

That's all the encouragement you need to get up from your seat, kick the chair aside, then drag her back enough, ass right to the very edge of the table, legs dangling over the edge. "If I'm responsible, then so are you. For what you started, brat."

You place a palm against her bare shoulder and push her back, a simple gesture that lays her out flat on the table with a smile. And she doesn’t need direction as she hikes her dress up herself, letting it bunch around her waist so you can tug her panties down with ease. Down her luscious legs and thrown to the side. 

Wonyoung parts her thighs, offering her bare little cunt for the taking, already glistening and dripping with need already, every delicious inch calling to be devoured. Gorgeous, absolutely mouthwatering, the kind of perfection that brings you to your knees—quite literally. 

"Remember, princess—quiet." 

That's the only warning she'll get before you dive in, without the faintest fucking care in the world who's here, or where you are. All you care about is making this brat lose it, make her realize that there are consequences for teasing this hard and not following through. So you lean in and go right for a taste, taking a long, generous lick across her wet slit, savoring her sweet nectar and wanting more. 

"D-daddy!" Wonyoung groans as she grabs the back of your head, letting her legs fall over your shoulders while you eat her out, and she nearly bucks right off the table. You've done this enough times to know how sensitive this girl gets, the way her taste becomes stronger every lick, all the easiest ways to have her quivering, to make her pussy drip right into your mouth.

You take another slow lick of her cunt, this one right up to her swollen clit, letting your tongue tease around it before drawing circles—little laps, flat swipes across that have her writhing. Wonyoung knows better than to be so fucking loud in a place like this, but that won't stop her from moaning your name so shamelessly, arching her back right off the table and getting a good grip of your hair.

"Oh my god," Wonyoung whines, eyes wide as you pay no attention to those desperate pleas, letting them fuel you as your hands grip around her thighs to keep her from squirming away, eating that delicious pussy like you're starved. You have the brat helpless, with a hand tight on the back of your head, the other covering her mouth to muffle the shameless noises spilling out. 

Wonyoung just moans right into her palm, choking back the desperate cries for more while you lick away and plunge your tongue deeper inside her wet cunt, almost daring someone to overhear this pretty girl losing it.

Fuck, she tastes amazing, and her entire body quivers from every messy lap of your tongue, a growing mess dripping down your chin that's only going to get worse. No matter how quiet she's trying to be, this girl's never been anything less than a loud, trembling mess the moment her legs spread, and this is no exception.

The risk is secondary to how much you love burying your head between her legs, licking up every part of her cunt that glistens like a feast that you can't get enough of. You’ve got Wonyoung far too worked up to care about anything but grabbing your head, unabashed by how you eat her out without mercy.

She'll learn her fucking lesson if you have to make her gush over and over again on top of this table. And even when she tries her hardest to close her legs and wiggle away, you'll do it again. 

Wonyoung can't keep that one word from spilling out, moaning 'daddy' over and over and crying out how fucking good you are at eating this delicious pussy. Each swipe of your tongue feeds your arousal more than ever, lapping at her cunt, slurping on her clit that gets all the best noises out of her, her thighs clamping around your head and pinning you exactly where you belong, just face-first between these legs of a goddess.

It's almost laughable how much effort she's wasted trying to keep her volume low, yet her entire body surrenders to your mouth. One harsh slurp of her sensitive clit has her grabbing a fistful of your hair in desperation, head falling back on the hard surface of the table and biting her bottom lip, a useless attempt to contain the pleasure.

There's no letting up, not after getting her so ridiculously wet—sucking hard on her clit between filthy, relentless licks, eating her out like this isn't happening in a library, like it's just another day of breaking Wonyoung down and making her melt. 

She's trying to ride your face, fuck herself on your mouth with these frantic, uncontrollable jerks of her hips that almost force you to tear yourself away just so you can have a moment to breathe.

But you don't need that. Not when her hips only move out of control, and the grip in your hair gets even tighter while she squirms. She's right where you want her, and if you really wanted to, you could drag this out a little longer to prolong every tremble and whine until she's in tears. That's a risk you're not willing to take, given she might alert the entire building to where you two are.

Instead, you'll have mercy, if you can call it that. 

You offer no chance to gather her senses, focusing on the sensitive bud between your lips, that little part of her that’s more than enough to drive her right over the edge. Looking up, there’s that perfect view of her pretty, flushed features, a girl far past falling apart while you suck her clit hard, dig your fingers into her creamy flesh and send her hurdling right over the fucking line.

"F-f-fuck—fuck, gonna cum, fucking gonna—"

Wonyoung is incoherent already, hardly able to keep those frantic cries held back, thighs locked around your head, toes curling when the orgasm hits hard. In seconds, she's gushing all over your face and spasming hard, hips bucking desperately against the greedy laps of your tongue to contain the arousal you’re drowning in. Let anyone walk by—you welcome it, you’ll thrive on it, because you’re not stopping. 

The sheer pleasure becomes overwhelming as Wonyoung rides it out, thighs trembling, body shaking so violently that even the table shifts, breath so shaky she could collapse any second. When it's done, Wonyoung can't even speak, trying to shove your head away, but you're not letting up—certainly not done with this delicious treat in front of you. "Daddy, stop—too m-much—"

There's not a chance you'll listen. Not after this fucking tease from earlier. 

You’ll lick up every drop of her juices from her soaked cunt and ignore the tremble in her thighs that loosen their grip, only to clamp back shut when she reaches the edge again. Any more words spoken, any more pleading, everything dissolves the longer this goes, eating her out without relent, even after she’s too sensitive to endure any more, not given a second of rest.

"D-daddy!" she cries out, eyes rolled to the back of her head when she cums on your face again, harder than before. Lips parted, shuddering and digging her nails into your scalp, Wonyoung grabs anything to try and free herself, the overstimulation far, far too much. The way her voice wavers—you can't think of anything more beautiful, one more lap at her cunt to give a final suck on her swollen, throbbing clit, forcing her to ride out the orgasm with your mouth all over that little bud.

Wonyoung can’t help but force more pleas out, body overwhelmed beyond her control. Once your mouth pulls off her cunt, you get a good look at the delicious view left behind, as you leave kisses on her messy thighs, the shaking yet to subside while she lies there on the table, breathless, unable to even move. 

"You're so fucking delicious, princess," you growl, noticing her expression when the fingers gripping your head finally let up and she collapses against the table. "Couldn't get enough of your pretty cunt." 

Wonyoung can't offer up a single word, still sobbing quietly, writhing with the aftershocks yet to cease. Her entire body feels too sensitive, drunk off pleasure and an utter trembling mess underneath, still yet to stop the desperate little spasms of her hips at what you did between her legs.

"That mouth of yours is fucking dangerous," Wonyoung sobs out, not bothering to lift her head to even glance at you. This girl that normally commands a room can't do anything but lie there—a pathetic, overwhelmed, mess, all sprawled out. "C-can't—can't fucking believe you made me cum like that.”

"You know me, princess. Couldn't help myself."

A faint sigh is all she has to give. It takes a moment, but she somehow manages to sit upright, eyes glazed when she looks up, the poor thing utterly ruined after one round. "Fuck, I’m still shaking. That’s how good daddy’s mouth is…”

You can't help laughing at how spent Wonyoung has gotten from just your mouth between her legs. A rare occasion. "Then maybe we should cut the study break short for today, princess."

Wonyoung perks her head up and stares at you, looking rather disappointed. "Hey, wait—you're still so fucking hard. We're not leaving until we do something about that. Come on."

Well, there's no denying that, even in her disheveled state. And she's not going anywhere without it being dealt with properly, already unbuttoning your pants and impatiently trying to tug them down. "Here? Still?” 

"Where else? If we haven't gotten caught at this point, it's not going to happen. Yes, here—dummy,” Wonyoung says, recovering enough to give your cock some relief when your boxers meet your pants around your ankles. “Fuck me raw on this table. Right now.” 

That rapacious look of hers is too much, every set of long strokes working wonders to get you desperate for what this girl's willing to offer up. "This looks pretty painful, daddy, doesn't it? Your cock deserves some gratitude. For what that mouth did to me."

But before you can even get a word out, she leans back again—this time raising both feet, pressing each sole against the swollen head of your cock. Nothing you can do but grunt when her delicate toes squeeze the head just so, her other foot stroking the entire length, coaxing precum that drips down.

"So fucking hard. Might just burst if my pretty little feet keep jerking you off, huh?"

Wonyoung knows exactly what you crave—and knows too well what a tease like this does to your cock. Just those small touches against your most sensitive spots, little strokes of her toes that urge you right where she wants you. 

The way her toes tease the tip, slide down to play with your balls, getting them heavier before dragging back up with one sole caressing your cock again, is downright dizzying. "That's what you fucking love, isn't it, daddy? These soft feet all over that huge dick of yours—"

She has you in the palm of her hand—always has and always will.

"Princess, quit teasing," you groan, unable to do anything but watch as she places both feet flat on either side of your cock, stroking up and down the sides while keeping the head right at her toes. This is absolute bliss. She watches with those big, doe eyes, observing how you can't keep from throbbing, her toes toying and sliding everywhere they possibly can. 

"Then do something about it," Wonyoung tempts, keeping those long legs raised and stroking your shaft with both her soles. Until you grab those legs and hoist them on your shoulders, wiping that grin off her face when you line her tight entrance with your needy, dripping cock. 

And now you're the one teasing, nudging your cock just inside the silky lips of her cunt, getting enough of that wet warmth around the head before pulling away.

It draws a breathy moan from Wonyoung, with her legs anchored onto your shoulders, slick juices all over your tip each time you brush through her slit. The way she mouths out a 'please’, begging for you to shove that cock between her folds and stuff her little cunt—makes you prolong this delicious torment for far too long.

"This what you wanted? For me to do something about your dripping cunt?" you taunt, rubbing your cockhead against those drenched lips, loving the desperate whine when you slide in enough to make her want more before you pull right back out. 

"Just fuck me—shove it in. Quit playing already."

"Oh, you don't wanna beg? Fucking brat can tease me but not the other way around, is that how it works?"A deep sigh follows when Wonyoung grows annoyed each time you drag along her slit and tease a few thrusts to slide right in. 

"I don't need to beg. That's your job, I just need you to plow my fucking pussy," Wonyoung demands, trying her best not to whine with each denied attempt at entry. 

"That's the fucking plan, brat,” you growl as you push further inside the heat of her slick, well-devoured cunt and bury the rest of your cock, getting a deep gasp from Wonyoung who welcomes every thick inch with little resistance. That tight pussy swallows every inch in an instant, wrapping around every bit you give her, so warm, so inviting, drenched and perfectly clenching around you.

"Tight fucking slut, god. How can you still feel so damn good no matter how many times I'm inside you?" Barely a few thrusts and Wonyoung feels so wet, drenching your cock that's suffocating in this slippery heat.

"Because you're fucking addicted," she answers, smirk fading fast while grabbing the edge of the table and losing herself with each pump of your hips.

"And you can't live a day without this dick—" That's what gets the loudest cry out when Wonyoung clenches tighter, those never ending legs spread on your shoulders while your hips crash right into her as you thrust deep into that wet little hole. 

"Because it's mine."

You can't disagree, not at a time like this. With her eyes locked on yours, her lips part to spill these needy moans, cheeks flushed a deep pink. You’re buried inside her, every inch claimed by the kind of heat and insane grip that makes it nearly impossible to let you escape. 

Wonyoung is perfect, always is, perfect to be fucked deep and raw. Perfect to bend over whatever is in reach, using whichever part of her gorgeous body she wants you in. And now these legs feel so natural resting on your shoulders, one on either side, locked behind your neck to make the angle even deeper. 

“Daddy feels so deep inside, fucking wrecking my pussy," is all Wonyoung can get out in between heaving breaths while the whole table jostles each time you hit the deepest parts and plunge through these walls to stay buried.

There's no objection in how you pound into her, nothing but pure, unrestrained lust, not a single care with every noise coming out of her mouth, every squelch that echoes as your heavy balls slap into the curve of Wonyoung's tight ass.

"Princess, fuck, so good—love this tight fucking pussy. Love your filthy fucking mouth and your pretty face and all of you. Love fucking you here on this table," you say, the praise spilling out without even trying. And Wonyoung has been far from subtle the moment you started driving your dick deep, mouth never shut—the heavy moans, the loud gasps, every deep breath growing ragged with every new thrust.

"Love when you fuck me so hard," Wonyoung murmurs back, doing nothing to tone down her reactions as she demands your cock claim all of her tight, impossibly soaked cunt. The feeling is very mutual. There's not anything better than these hot, slippery lips trapping you inside, tightening around every part that's throbbing.

All in a library, no less. One that’s neglected, but the lack of concern only makes you pound this tight cunt faster. Maybe you’ll check off another banned location from your list, because the studying going on here is anything but academic. 

"Fuck, fuck, you're stretching me so much—rearranging my guts, daddy." 

"Library, princess…" you remind her, words she doesn't hear or even care about. Not that you give any more of a damn. Your hips don’t either as you keep slamming away, lost in the feeling of how good every thrust feels, nothing less than balls deep while you grip her legs for leverage. She clenches harder the deeper your thrusts hit, until her voice stalls, and she lets the moans get a bit too loud. 

Wonyoung just can't contain herself and gushes all over your cock, forcing you to fight through that mess that floods out all over.

It gets everywhere—all over your thighs, the table, her bag, even the floor. Wonyoung can't stop trembling, eyes rolling back, legs shaking hard, all this messy gushing that's threatening to shove you out if not for her cunt desperately holding you inside.

"S-shit, daddy, couldn't help myself. Your huge cock feels too fucking good. Too fucking deep in me," she gasps out when her legs give out on their own and those ankles detach from your shoulders. 

"Made such a huge mess, princess," you say, not stopping the steady, deep pumps even as her legs now rest limply against the table. Each thrust turns her into more of a whimpering mess, overstimulated in a way that makes her toes curl, legs continuing to shake when you fill her to the hilt and keep fucking her. 

"That's your fault, not mine. You love fucking me wherever I want, can’t help how good it feels.” 

No rest for either of you then, it seems. You're right back to it, holding her thighs apart to slam into her pussy in a relentless rhythm, smacking your hips into her tight little body, pistoning hard enough the table rattles. And there's no time for Wonyoung to do anything other than lose control. 

"Daddy can't stop fucking me," Wonyoung taunts in the middle of her heavy panting and moans, tongue out, drool spilling past her lips with each hard slam. "You love my tight little pussy way too much to stop." 

As if she didn't just fucking gush like a hydrant a minute ago.

Wonyoung doesn't get anything else out when she opens her legs as much as she can, finding enough strength to wrap them around you, tight as can be to get you even deeper inside. There's not a chance she would allow this cock anywhere else with how hard she squeezes and makes sure not an inch slips away.

"Daddy's not going anywhere, not with my fucking legs locked. Not letting you fucking leave or ever pull out—"

"You think I could ever leave your warm little cunt when it feels this good? Not a chance, princess." You can't possibly look away from those expressive eyes, full lips open with heavy, desperate groans, staring right at you as you keep sinking inside, every throb met by a delicious squeeze that demands you give every fucking drop. 

This harsh rhythm, the sound of flesh against flesh, a cacophony of groans while Wonyoung keeps those legs wrapped tight leaves you drowning in this pleasure.

"Want you to fucking cum right inside of me, daddy. Can't take it anymore—just fucking pump me full, pump my womb with all that hot fucking seed, make me leak all over this fucking table. Breed me right here in this fucking library, right now. Please, daddy—please." 

When she begs so prettily like that, with you buried so deep, what resistance is left in you? Nobody has these pleading eyes like Wonyoung, trying to squeeze your cock as tight as possible to empty you inside. 

This isn't a study break, but a full on performance by both of you. The library is the worst place for this, and yet it doesn't stop you from pumping harder into Wonyoung's slick cunt, like you're just asking to be heard at the back of the third floor. 

"Gonna fucking fill this pussy," you growl, powerless to stop the inevitable with how tight these walls cling around you, downright impossible to not erupt when she has you right where she wants. Those legs around your waist expedite it even further. 

“P-please, right now,” Wonyoung begs one final time, giving you just enough time to look up, to see the way those eyes are looking at you—not pleading anymore, but a sense of desperation in there. 

Not another moment to think. Not another second to stop yourself from doing just that. With a final, unapologetic slam that hits as deep as her body can take, you unleash everything inside, heavy spurts flooding right into her tight, greedy cunt. That voice that has you pumping hot, messy streams of cum from your aching balls into the girl who craves it more than anything. 

It's fucking endless, it always is. Her cunt swallows your load with every violent throb, greedy walls squeezing hard to wring out the spurts you pound even deeper inside. 

And that's just what Wonyoung deserves, taking your load with pride. The relief is undeniable, second to the way her pretty face glows, lips parted as the last of your cum disappears into her well-fucked pussy, never, ever getting tired of the grip that demands more. 

"Every single drop…” Wonyoung murmurs as you fill her up, legs locked so tight around your body to make sure all of that cum stays inside, a hot, sticky, pearlescent mess flooding her insides. No pulling out. Not until you're totally drained, that's her demand, and that's non-negotiable.

"So thick, so fucking warm, daddy. Keep fucking it all deeper, wanna feel it leaking." There’s little you can do but that, move your hips in small movements, to make sure your fresh load finds its place deep between those creamy thighs. 

Your thrusts slow down by the end of it, all this combined pleasure that's finally taken its toll. Finally having the chance to catch a breath, you close your eyes and revel in the softness wrapped around your sensitive shaft, in the sweat you can feel trickling down the side of your face. There’s no better satisfaction than pumping this pretty pink cunt to the fucking brim. 

"Princess made me cum so damn hard. You just couldn't wait to empty these balls into that tight fucking cunt, could you, brat?" you whisper against the shell of her ear, face buried right against her bare shoulder when it's just the two of you defeated by exhaustion, no break from the grip her legs won’t give up. 

"Daddy always gives his princess always gets what she wants. Love when you use me to drain those heavy fucking balls."

You don't know what it is with these two today—these demanding, greedy brats craving the seed that's pumping into Wonyoung and oozing right from the tight little hole it fills, but there’s no complaints. None whatsoever. 

"First your car, then the library. It's like you both hate the apartment now," you tell her, earning a little giggle betraying any sense of decorum.

"Or maybe we’re just two insatiable sluts that love daddy fucking us wherever possible," she fires back with a tremble in her voice, and a little peck to your lips, finally freeing the hold her legs have around you. You don't pull out quite yet, taking a moment to savor the warmth and the mess you’ve left inside before easing out—

You watch the most sinful little sight when you do, a flood of thick cum without cease onto the library table, those beautiful thighs, everywhere it chooses to defile. 

There's definitely not the smallest bit of remorse or modesty, despite the huge mess the two of you have just made. The mixture of your cum and Wonyoung’s floods through this table, no doubt ruining anything in the near vicinity. At least it'll be a fun story to explain to Yujin why you're banned from a different library entirely.

But that’s a problem for later. Right now, you're too focused on the sight of your cum dripping down Wonyoung’s thighs, watching as her fingers trail through the thick white between her legs, shoving whatever escapes back inside. There's silence while she does so, save for her loud, uneven breaths and your own. 

You lean in to kiss her, this time a longer press of your lips as you cradle her face, tongue invading past her parted lips, lost in this lust for what seems like forever. 

"This is a library, you two know—" 

The sudden interruption has you pulling away in panic, because it's not a voice you know. Wonyoung, however, doesn’t look the least bit bothered when she glances to find another pair of eyes staring right at the two of you.

"Yes, very fucking aware," Wonyoung replies in a rather calm voice given the circumstances. You follow her gaze, seeing it hone in on a figure not too far from what you’ve done to this poor table. 

It's not the head librarian at least, the only relief you can have with your pants around your ankles. 

Whoever it is takes a step closer to reveal herself, a younger woman, student if you had to guess, judging by the book she holds (or rather, embraces), and the backpack slung over her shoulder.

"Then why are you two defiling my favorite study spot?" the girl asks, coming closer. There's annoyance when there should be shock, her concerns clearly involving any inconvenience and not how compromising this position is. 

“Shouldn't you be a little quieter then? This is a library after all," Wonyoung fires right back, returning her gaze with a finger still mindlessly running through those creamy folds, until one pops right into her mouth. She doesn't give an ounce of embarrassment or the slightest consideration to this other woman inches away. 

"Yes, a library. For the purposes of studying. And it looks like there's been a fucking orgy happening on this table," the other girl says in return. There's a trace of sarcasm, one that matches Wonyoung well while she inspects the damage, to where the table has a thick trail of fluids that's not going away.

"And what would you know about studying? Don't exactly recall seeing you in class once this semester, sweetie."

"How would you—" the other woman starts, stopping herself. She stands there with arms folded, both of them hesitant for a moment until she gathers her thoughts. "We have economics together. Every Tuesday. And every week, you're off getting dicked down somewhere or I don't know, whatever other hobbies you have that involve spreading your legs."

"Sorry for having a social life. Maybe you should try it out, Gaeulie."

This girl laughs a little, leaning against a dusty bookshelf. "Gaeulie? No one's called me that since—"

"Our senior year in high school, I know. But it's the same Gaeul, isn't it? Still the shy, nerdy girl with the same smart mouth, huh?” 

And now it all clicks together in an instant, even without knowing a thing about her. Someone who clearly can handle Wonyoung, knows how to handle her without being the least bit bothered by any of these insults, clearly used to such attitude.

"You'd be surprised. Things change," Gaeul starts, gaze traveling around the table. It falls onto you, and she takes a second, studying.

Wonyoung just stares.

"Yujinnie mentioned something about a guy she was banging lately, said she was sharing him with you. Thought it was just a one time thing, but looks like you're still here, yeah?" Gaeul asks, with that gaze glued right where it is, on you, between your legs and for longer than just a cursory glance. "With a huge cock, apparently. Guess that's as good enough reason as any." 

It doesn't make you uneasy as it should, perhaps because you're still processing this all. But the way she ogles your body, that's what does, not wanting to strike up a conversation all exposed like this. 

Her eyes just follow wherever she pleases, and doesn't even attempt to hide her blatant stare. 

With your clothes back on, now you can at least look at this girl named Gaeul for more than a second. Not bad to look at, honestly. She's rather attractive, but the polar opposite of Yujin and Wonyoung in her casual hoodie and jeans, glasses neatly atop her face, long blonde hair and a shy smile to go with it. A smaller stature compared to the other two and just a general timidness that's clear, but not without enough confidence to go head-to-head with Wonyoung.

"Hi, I'm Gaeul," she reiterates. "Nice to meet you. Enjoyed the little show. Sorry, didn't mean to stare at your cock that long. Impressive though." 

This is awkward, to say the least. Meeting an acquaintance of Wonyoung when you're naked from the waist down. That's a new one.

You have not a thing to say, just a quick nod while you shake the extended hand, meeting this mysterious woman. Gaeul can only let out a giggle, and you think this might be more embarrassing than being banned from another library.

"Well, as much as I would love to stand here and chat, it smells like a goddamn porn set back here, and I've got an assignment to complete. Unlike someone who skips class just to get a dick down their throat," Gaeul says, smiling the whole time she speaks. "We should grab a drink sometime. And maybe—"

She gives a glance towards you, then back between your legs. "Maybe you could bring him too. Oh, and don't worry. I won't tell anyone what happened here. That librarian forgot her hearing aid, probably. Besides, who would ever believe a cute little nerdy girl about a study corner getting used for this kind of debauchery?"

Before anything gets answered, Gaeul's already out of view, leaving a last little wave behind her and heading out. And that's when you can finally breathe again.

"Don't say a damn word," Wonyoung warns the same moment you even think about opening your mouth, hopping off the table. She scans the room, eyes landing on the soaked, crumpled panties tossed among the wreckage. Without a word, she stuffs them into her purse, adjusting her dress like nothing ever happened.

"Time to go, daddy. We have an hour left, and that cock isn't done spilling cum in me. Let's go find another place. Preferably one with less dust."

For now, you're too exhausted to object, being led back out of the library, in search of your next potential place to desecrate.

Which turns out, is no easy feat, when your options are rather limited, given it's past midday. Public bathrooms are overdone at this point. The science center is a bigger no, as is every lecture hall that is entirely too occupied to even enter. The cafeteria is dead at this hour, but even for Wonyoung that's far too risky, even with that one spot she keeps insisting on, the one she swears no one will ever wander back to.

A quick text to Yujin to check in, and she replies back asking how many times your balls have been emptied, with not much more advice than to try the auditorium. Which apparently Wonyoung takes up on—and that's always a dangerous thing, judging from the way she tugs on your arm.

So now your back is against the bright, white wall of the racquetball court, another ‘abandoned’ space that she’s taken you, a term that you aren’t even sure means anything anymore. Nowhere near as exciting as that one time Wonyoung dragged you into the pilates studio—when the only stretching involved was her leg hooked on the ballet bar and your cock buried in her tight little cunt, each thrust rocking her petite frame against the mirrored wall.

And this is more of the same.

Your pants might as well live around your ankles these days. The racquetball court has seen better days, with paint peeling from the walls, floorboards a little worse for wear. 

Not to mention the lights dim and flicker, but it’s still bright enough to catch the obscene sight of Wonyoung on her knees, drool spilling from her lips as she devours your cock. Like it hasn’t even been five minutes since you last emptied yourself inside her.

"You’re greedy, today. Getting my cock in your mouth the second we step through the door," you point out, running a hand through her hair as the sound of that sloppy mouth gets louder with every bob of Wonyoung's pretty head. And these walls echo with every slurp that spills out. 

Her eyes peer up through the mess of spit that drips down, two fingers rubbing at her pink slit while she slobbers over every inch. She's messy in the cutest of ways. Lips pink, parted, and pouty as they slide down your shaft, right to the back of her wet throat. Her cheeks hollow as she works nice and slow, grabbing your hips when she stuffs your entire cock in her mouth with only a tiny bit of a gag. 

All the little choked gasps, the effort she makes to take you deeper, those eyes that get all wide when you help force her head all the way to the hilt.

"I'm greedy everyday, daddy. Haven't you realized that, yet?" 

Hard to realize anything but how good those soft fucking lips feel wrapped around your cock. That warm mouth spilling plenty of drool over every inch, so utterly soaked, pink little tongue dragging along every vein when Wonyoung runs those luscious lips right back down. Until her nose is buried against your pelvis, leaving no room to breathe as she keeps your dick in the heavenly depths of her tight fucking throat.

It’s easy to indulge that greediness, when your cock aches just as bad, forcing her head down the way you need, with your fingers through that silky dark hair, threaded right through. 

Especially when you press her up against the court wall, with a handful of hair and fuck into her slick, needy cunt, sinking in deep without restraint. No need to hold back when the soundproof walls swallow up every obscene noise, not when Wonyoung is demanding to be ruined, begging for more with every pathetic gasp.

Neither of you giving a single fuck how loud you can get, yanking back to expose that pretty little throat that Wonyoung leaves all vulnerable, the marks from earlier still noticeable, even more vivid on that pale flesh when your teeth dig in. 

The best part is how all your thrusts amplify in this large space, each rough pop of your hips forcing her slender body against the padded court wall. It's the sweet sounds that escape her mouth, loud moans and gasps and filthy praises spilling from those swollen lips. How wet she gets with every thrust pinning her to the wall as she cries out 'daddy' like a mantra, cunt only gripping tighter the more your hips slam into her ass.

And she tries—to get her hand underneath, to rub against her swollen clit but you move her wrists above her, pressing her body flat against the wall. "You'll cum on this cock when it's time. No help."

"That's not fucking fair." The tone Wonyoung says it with doesn't even matter, not with how helpless she looks against you.

"Too bad. Bad girls don't get to decide the rules."

That makes her cry out another moan, her tight cunt clamping even harder. "How am I supposed to not touch myself when you keep destroying my fucking pussy like this?"

"Quit whining, brat. You can take it, can't you?"

"Of course I can, daddy. I just—oh god, it's so good. Just wanna cum on your fat cock, please."

A weak argument at best. "You think that's not gonna happen with how fucking hard you're getting pounded into this wall? No chance.”

“D-daddy, please—“ 

A slap lands so hard across her bare ass that she yelps into the surface her cheek rests against. Another even harder comes after, no relent or consideration, one that she'll feel at her next class, regardless of when she decides to show up.

Wonyoung is in her element here. A public space but contained, making as many noises and shameless sounds as she pleases. 

Panties ripped off and thrown somewhere on the court, with heels, of course. This time they stay on her feet, so they do little more than add an extra little thud when you deliver every slam inside that delicious, soaked cunt that can barely take all of you.

“You’re throbbing—which means I get another load. Fill me where I want it,” Wonyoung pleads, like she’s so sure she’ll get anything. Even with the loud spanks on her ass that cut through her moans, leaving her with red handprints and bruised flesh that just makes her whine for more.

"No—"

Another slap on her tight ass, another loud gasp she offers up in return, a tug back so you can whisper in her ear. "Princess doesn't get another load in her cunt—this one belongs all over your pretty fucking face."

So a clench of her dripping wet walls is what you get in reply, because she'll take your cum however she can. Nothing gets her cunt drenched more than imagining your cum spilled across her. 

Then it’s one final, frantic thrust before you pull out, and Wonyoung doesn't hesitate at all, dropping down to her knees and awaiting her favorite reward. She watches the way you stroke your cock in front of her angelic face, and that sultry pout on her full lips is more than enough to get you there. 

With one hand through her hair and the other gripping tight around your cock, you keep Wonyoung as close as can be, her eyes wide as she patiently waits and anticipates every bit of your cum, offering her whole face as a canvas.

The first thick blast hits Wonyoung's face right away, landing all over her cute nose and splattering white streaks across her plump pink lips. Next comes her forehead, shooting a double of long, sticky strands all the way up to her dark hair, cock still gripped firmly so you can target every gorgeous fucking spot on her. 

Each heavy spurt paints her perfect skin, spurts that end up all over her cheeks, on her chin and that outstretched tongue to leave this brat properly covered, just as promised. Your load clings to those lips that shine under the bright lights, unable to contain a giggle from how proud she is to get decorated.

She's gorgeous. There's never enough time to savor this incredible sight, Wonyoung with your cum painted all over her beautiful face.

"Love how your cum feels all over me. Love when daddy blows his big, heavy load all over my fucking face."

Wonyoung strokes your cock against her cheek, pulsating right on her face and wearing every spurt across her smooth skin like a trophy. A dizzying sight, her messy smile and your cum streaked across that pretty face, the kisses she lands on the sensitive tip of your cock that sends more shudders through you.

The lights buzz overhead. Somewhere above, shoes squeak faintly across the floor, sounding so much louder when Wonyoung's fully distracted, lazily stroking your sensitive cock. 

"Well, well, well—" 

Interrupted again. But this time, there’s no mystery when you both glance up at the viewing balcony above you. Who else but Yujin leaning against the railing with a clear view down, ponytail swaying as her head drops to get a better look.

She’s dressed in what looks like workout gear, a black sports bra and pink yoga pants that cling far too tightly around her thick thighs and shapely ass, slinging an athletic bag over one shoulder. There's a sheen of sweat on her skin like she's already spent the better part of an hour on a treadmill, yet looking gorgeous as ever. "Funny seeing you two here. Is this the premium courtside experience, or do I need to pay extra?"

Wonyoung says little, nor does she acknowledge the third party while she keeps her position, kneeling on the court floor. "My two hours aren't up yet. So unless you're going to stay and watch..."

"Trying to get rid of me? I paid for the full-access pass, so I better get my money's worth, princess," Yujin teases right back, already striding down the flight of stairs, heading in your direction. In seconds, she's down on the first floor of the court and making a beeline right towards the two of you.

You're the most vulnerable one in all this, cock out, pants around your ankles with Wonyoung still stroking your shaft at a steady rhythm. That little laugh from Yujin catches both your attention when she sees the mess covering Wonyoung's face.

"Jesus, princess. You're a fucking mess.” 

"You'd be too," Wonyoung defends, offering no apology as she slides a couple fingers through the cum dripping down her features before shoving them in her mouth to clean them, slurping lewdly. "If you saw what we were up to. My ass still fucking stings." 

Yujin only laughs. "Good."

Wonyoung rises from the court floor then, only to be met with Yujin who leans in with a little smirk and plants a greedy kiss on those cum-smeared lips, getting a good taste without hesitation. Then it’s just pure lust as their tongues collide, swapping saliva and the lingering taste of your cum they crave more of. 

And now you’re the one just watching. Standing with your dick still out in the open while these two make in front of you—Yujin's fingers sliding between Wonyoung's legs to plunge them inside, eager for another taste from somewhere else.

"Daddy didn't wanna cum in your little pussy, huh?" Yujin taunts, like she can't see the mess that's still present on Wonyoung's glazed features. 

"He did already. Filled me so good a little while ago, and now he wanted my pretty face all covered—don't be jealous just because you didn't get yours."

Not like Yujin has anything to envy, watching Wonyoung fall apart at the feeling of her long fingers buried between those wet lips, not even giving a care to your presence. "Daddy came inside me first, though. In your car, remember? He couldn't help it while my tight cunt kept riding his huge fucking dick..."

That's the best way to get Wonyoung to shut up—still annoyed at what the two of you did in her car. Yujin slips out the two fingers coated in Wonyoung's juices, then licks them clean without breaking eye contact. 

"So fucking what? What are you even doing here, anyway, Yujinnie?” 

"Other than watch you two fuck like animals? Thought I'd get an actual workout in, and see what you two were up to. Are those your panties?" Yujin asks, laughing as she glances down to a small pair of discarded underwear that can't possibly qualify as anything. 

It's Wonyoung's turn to laugh now. "Might be. Daddy kind of ruined them."

You roll your eyes, gathering your senses back and finding some semblance of modesty that the other two clearly don't seem to grasp. "You begged me to. Rip them off and pound my pussy like a whore is what you said to be exact, so—"

"Shut up, daddy. I said no such thing—"

Yujin can't wipe that wide grin off her face, looking between you two with a judgmental shake of her head, acting like she hasn't said similar things. "Since we're not heading back to the apartment anytime soon... there's a locker room, down the hall. You know where that goes. We've got the place all to ourselves."

There's never a real break when the three of you are together, when Yujin gets that familiar gleam in her eye, pulling her ponytail free and letting that dark hair cascade down her back. 

That's about all Wonyoung needs, and all it takes for you to follow. She doesn't even attempt to make herself presentable, dress left hiked up and disheveled. Those clothes are all coming off anyway. "Hurry up, daddy."

You'd rather get out of this pathetic looking court sooner rather than later. So off to the locker room you all go, bags and belongings in hand. Your two leggy roommates saunter ahead of you, your gaze shamelessly aimed at Yujin's ass in those tight pants that hug every delicious curve to perfection. 

You'll never get cleaned up—not if these two have any say in it, but maybe you're okay with that. 

“Come on, it’s empty,” Yujin says as she leads the way into the locker room that’s surprisingly luxurious, with marble counters and large mirrors, rows of shower stalls and padded benches. It smells faintly of citrus and lavender—a surprising contrast with the neglected condition of the facility.

You're the first to follow Yujin and her deliciously swaying hips as she slides those yoga pants off, glancing over her shoulder to make sure you're watching before sliding her sports bra off. Now in just a tiny little pair of panties and nothing else, the small fabric does its best to cover that perfectly shaped ass, and those legs a sight you could stare at forever. She stretches her long limbs up above her head, toned arms flexing and offering an even more tantalizing glimpse of that bare back, where your hands always gravitate towards, all that smooth, flawless skin that feels so nice underneath your fingertips. 

"Enjoying yourself, daddy?" Yujin teases, taking her sweet time to peel those tiny panties off, bending forward and popping her ass up even more.

Your gaze can't stay away from every sinful inch, especially right between her legs, that gorgeous, smooth cunt of hers, and you're tempted to skip on a hot shower and bury your face between her thighs right fucking now.

"Hard not to when you look so good naked, Yujinnie," you answer back, taking a step forward to grope around her curvy hips, then squeeze at her plentiful ass, savoring the slight jiggle when you get a handful and knead those soft cheeks in your palms.

"Then you better take those clothes off too, daddy. Can't take a shower with these on, can you?” 

Yujin doesn’t say anything more when she turns around, walking backwards to the nearest shower stall as you get the full view of that delicious body from the front before she slips in and starts the water.

No time to waste. Your clothes end up scattered, shoes kicked off as you finally join Yujin already under the hot water, not afraid to push you against the tile wall and capture your lips in a deep kiss. And you can't wait another second to grab her ass again, feeling her soft flesh up while you enjoy her hungry mouth, steam surrounding you more and more as the hot water rains down your bodies.

"Who said you could start without me?" 

Wonyoung's voice interrupts as she stumbles in and closes the curtain. There's really not enough room for three in one shower stall, but you're all pressed in close and it doesn't matter. And hey, you aren't going to say no to having these two naked and all sharing the same water.

"Don't act like you don't love watching us," Yujin says in between the two of you devouring one another, her greedy hands sliding all over your body to find your cock already throbbing and needing her touch. "Was wondering if you were ever going to join us." 

"Had to wash this cum off my face, obviously," Wonyoung huffs, stepping closer to join in on the fun. She runs her wet tongue across your chest until her body is pressing into yours as well, all that wet skin sliding across yours and feeling so damn good. You switch from Yujin to Wonyoung, capturing those lips next with your tongue slipping right in to taste. 

Yujin isn't idle though, reaching below to grab your cock with her soapy, wet hands, stroking nice and slow. It’s so easy to find yourself lost between their mouths, swapping saliva with each girl while your cock gets more than a little needy. Now it's both of them who stroke, keeping up with the pace Yujin is setting while each of their lips claim yours back and forth, teeth teasing and tongues desperate for attention.

All the hot steam, all the naked skin on display and it's no surprise your cock is growing so stiff as Yujin slowly drops to her knees and positions herself between your thighs. Hot water falls over her, washing soap off your cock and trickles down the curves of her body while her tongue brushes in this playful tease over your dick that twitches with each touch.

"Didn't Wonyoung take care of you earlier, daddy? That huge load on her face and you're still this hard?" she asks, clearly not expecting a proper response, especially when she wraps her lips around your swollen tip and takes you deep into her tight throat all at once. And the moan that follows makes this question impossible to answer.

"That was barely even an appetizer," Wonyoung cuts in, kissing down your wet body, lips tracing down your abs while moving further and further below. The lower she drops, the more she crouches, the closer her hot mouth approaches—

And then her lips surround your aching balls while she begins to suck, drawing the hefty sack into her mouth to show her admiration. "Needed so much more than what he pumped across my face."

More sounds spill from your mouth with this extra attention. Yujin works diligently on your cock, bobbing her head along and drooling over your shaft, with Wonyoung on her knees right beside on the wet floor, lavishing your balls in tandem. Two ravenous mouths that seem to love the task, slurping and sucking without a care. Two noisy mouths kissing, licking, downright worshiping your cock from tip to base and everywhere in between.

"Fuck, you two are—" is all you can say when Yujin leans back to spit a huge mouthful of drool that coats your shaft, her palm stroking it all in before going back down again. 

Once she comes up, Wonyoung gets her lips right at one side of your thick cock, while Yujin takes the opposite, the two running those soft, warm lips from base to tip before their tongues dance all over your leaking cockhead together, trying their best to fit as much between their pretty lips as possible.

"My turn," Wonyoung demands, shoving your cock into her bratty mouth without warning. Yujin only giggles and dips back down, no objections when she latches her mouth on one of your heavy balls with a satisfying slurp.

"Mmh, daddy's balls are so full, so delicious," Yujin moans, staring at Wonyoung, sharing that lewd look that'll end you. 

The sight, the feeling, this devilish pair of lips treating your needy cock like a delicacy, it’s far too good, far too overwhelming the way their greedy mouths treat your cock. Especially Wonyoung, her mouth all warm and wet, all that tight suction from slobbering on your length without even a pause to breathe.

Her head bobs furiously along your shaft while she stuffs every inch down, straight past the back of her throat with little difficulty, right to the hilt. And Yujin is equally relentless with her attention, relentless in how she sucks at each your balls, running her tongue all over them before releasing with a loud pop that echoes in the shower before wrapping her mouth around again.

There's definitely nothing getting clean, but this is visual stimulation. Their gorgeous mouths competing with each other, two slobbery, soft sets of lips showing no sign of stopping until they get you off.

With Wonyoung choking you down, Yujin doesn't take too long to up the ante, eager to make you crumble with her tongue flicking fast on your balls as she guides a hand to one of your hips, moving between your legs. As she reaches underneath, a wet finger probes right at the spot she knows will make you fall to pieces. 

"F-fuck, Yujin," you rasp out when that curious digit circles your puckered hole before dipping just inside, not enough to penetrate but a steady tease.

Yujin withdraws, spitting into the palm of her hand so she can return to your ass, this nice, slippery feeling of her wet finger massaging your prostate to coax the right response out of you. One that she gets immediately, when the pressure mounts, and she traces your rim with the tip of her middle finger, eagerly anticipating the moment when you’ll lose it. 

Even with your cock impaling that tight little wet throat, Yujin makes damn sure to draw your attention, finger slowly pumping inside your ass. The wet slurps of Wonyoung’s greedy mouth are one thing, but the way those messy lips wrap around your balls as she continues her advance inside your ass is more than just another level. 

"Too fucking good, god, feels so fucking good," you groan as Yujin plunges even deeper, buried all the way in your ass and curling her finger to hit just the right places. "Not gonna last if you keep this up—” 

“Then don’t,” Yujin says, and that's clearly their intention. With the way they stare at one another and share an equally filthy smile before locking lips, trading their own sloppy spit between them before continuing their oral assault. One that doesn’t stop, Wonyoung picking up the pace as she works to choke you down her throat, a strangled, gargling moan and spit dripping off your balls, sloppier than you've ever felt before.

There’s no stopping this hungry duo, the greed they can’t stop displaying, each just as desperate for another load of your cum. 

Yujin looks up with all that wet hair stuck to her beautiful face, and that expression hits hard. Wonyoung has no other thought in her mind than swallowing this huge, thick load straight from the source as she takes you down her throat with ease, holding for as long as she needs to. 

Neither will back off as that heavy throbbing increases, their target clear, both ready to pull the trigger with all this combined effort driving you wild. Neither can resist the temptation to devour your length, your balls—kisses and frantic licks that won't quit, until all that overwhelming sensation becomes more than what your body can handle. 

"Let it out, daddy," Yujin hums, greedily drawing out as much cum as she can get with each suck of your balls. "Blow that huge load right down her filthy fucking throat.”

You don’t stand a chance. 

All that’s left is to grip tight at the back of Wonyoung’s head, forcing her down as your cock erupts without restraint, spilling everything into her wet mouth. 

Her eyes widen when you throb in her mouth, nails digging into her scalp as you erupt down that tight, warm little mouth that demands your hot cum, swallowing it all down with ease. That pretty mouth stays firmly at the base, each eager gulp taking as much of this thick, creamy load that churns out of your balls, shot after shot shooting straight down her throat. 

Wonyoung sucks harder than ever through every last twitch, holding your hips to keep you where she needs you, buried down her throat when she guzzles it all down. She doesn't stop, not until she's drained you dry, every last spurt coating her throat, not a drop wasted, not until she's satisfied, opening her mouth to show every last drop swallowed, tongue out to confirm just as much.

Not a moment to rest before they're both all over you in an instant, while their lips converge around the sensitive head of your cock, two greedy tongues all over your cockhead to taste you all over. 

“That cum is so delicious, daddy,” Wonyoung says and runs a long lick along your spent shaft, while Yujin savors a nice, slow slurp across your still throbbing cockhead, neither mouth ready to leave you. 

"I'm guessing you weren't sharing that, were you, princess?" Yujin asks as she looks at Wonyoung and gives another drag of her wet tongue on your cock.

"Hey, you said daddy came inside you first. And you ruined my car, so I think it's only fair if I get the rest—"

Yujin doesn't even look too bothered as they rise back up together, giggling as they lean in to share a heated kiss, sharing the flavor on each other's lips. "Always a greedy little brat, aren't you?"

"Can you blame me?” Wonyoung replies back, brushing her nose against Yujin’s. “When daddy loves filling us up, it makes it so hard not to be. And besides, you know there's plenty more..." 

Even as many times as you've been drained today, it still doesn't make much difference—one look at Wonyoung with those legs, water dripping down her pale flesh and Yujin with her hands all over that soft skin, and you feel just as insatiable as they always do.

You're content to be just a spectator, for now, or at least try to be while the two take all the room under the shower head, kissing slow and deep. Yujin takes hold of Wonyoung’s slender waist, always so easy to grip, and pulls her close, the other hand landing a sharp smack on her ass as the sound echoes through the steamy stall.

"D-do that again."

"No."

"Do it," Wonyoung whines. Yujin doesn't miss a beat, doing just that to make Wonyoung gasp out loud and give her the satisfaction of spanking her harder than before. Even better that she can't help the whimper that follows.

"You really are a slut," Yujin laughs, hand spanking her a third time. 

"Like you don't like when daddy makes your ass red, Yujinnie. Like I don't hear the way you beg when he fucks your ass in our kitchen..."

"Point taken," Yujin says, all giggles and gives a few more smacks across each cheek, letting you watch the flesh jiggle before giving one more final loud slap. And now you're really thankful for how long this hot water lasts, the temperature not dipping at all, not even when they both turn to face you and you get an eyeful of their dripping wet, perfect bodies all glistening underneath the running water. 

"You’re staring too much, daddy," Wonyoung purrs, that same bratty attitude with her hands all over Yujin's body, groping whatever part she can, no regard for modesty when the two are just as horny and desperate. “Or are you ready to go again so soon?” 

"Pretty sure his balls have been drained enough today," Yujin says, dipping a finger inside Wonyoung in a torturous, slow movement so she can enjoy the wetness. "Daddy's been so spoiled.” 

“S-shit, never enough. Can never have daddy fill me enough.” 

Yujin couldn’t agree any more.

“Look at you, princess,” Yujin murmurs, stopping mid-stroke. “You’re drenched. That greedy little cunt didn’t get enough?” 

“What do you think, Yuj—ah, fuck!” 

Your eyes go right between those slender legs where Yujin works her open, the wet squelch of Wonyoung's cunt the best sound heard over the fall of water in this shower. 

"Still so wet, princess. That big cock must have done a number on you. How many times did you cum all over it? Two? Three? A dozen?” 

Wonyoung gasps and clutches at your forearm, nails digging right into your skin for support. And Yujin takes that as an invitation, dropping to her knees right under the spray. 

Wall at your back, you hold Wonyoung by her hips and keep her steady while Yujin eats her out.

There’s nothing restrained about it. The sound of water hitting tile gets easily drowned out by the slick, lewd noises between Wonyoung’s wet, creamy thighs. You can feel her tense up, how she tries to stay upright but fails, her legs buckling with every flick.

Her head falls back against you, these beautiful whimpers that escape while Yujin is relentless, one arm hooked around Wonyoung’s thigh to keep her from squirming away. "Y-Yujin, I-I can't, oh god, I’m gonna fall—” 

Breathing right in her ear, you tighten your grip, fingers digging deep into the wet flesh as you keep Wonyoung held up. "You won't."

Yujin just keeps at it, tongue buried deep, lips latched tight, licking right at her throbbing little clit, listening to the way she falls apart so easy from a simple swipe. It’s beautiful how fast it can happen, just how much Yujin can break through Wonyoung's feisty exterior like it's nothing.

"I think we’re the ones who are spoiled with how good this pussy tastes," Yujin says between long laps, barely giving a break to catch her breath. You're only there to help, to keep Wonyoung from toppling over, holding her steady for Yujin to devour. 

“Y-Yujinnie, f-fuck—don’t stop,” Wonyoung breathes out as she grinds helplessly against the tongue ruining her. “Please don’t stop.” 

How could she ever? Even as the sounds in the shower grow louder, more desperate, your attention is solely focused right on Wonyoung, listening to her lose all control and composure so easily. Yujin licks right at her core a little faster, lapping all over, humming with satisfaction in the taste that this needy girl provides.

"Hold her tighter," Yujin instructs as she delivers a harsh slurp on Wonyoung's sensitive clit, one that causes a sharp intake of breath that fills the whole room. “She’s shaking.”

Of course she is—anyone would if they had Yujin's mouth right between their legs, giving everything she has, nails digging in a bit into Wonyoung’s thigh, keeping her exactly where she wants her. Without pause, her tongue darts back in, swirling around that sensitive nub, and hitting the spots she knows will cause the most damage.

And the best part is, you get a closeup view when this orgasm tears right through the pretty girl that's rapidly falling apart right in your arms. 

So you do nothing but hold Wonyoung tight, pressing kisses into her exposed neck, a mark or two forming wherever you decide to suck that gets her moaning a bit too loud.

Yujin is nothing but merciless. The more Wonyoung's toes curl, the louder her voice gets, the more frantic Yujin laps, fast swipes, more drawn-out flicks. Then her tongue buries inside her again, never a moment to rest, only devouring her dripping cunt to give her exactly what she deserves.

You can feel the shudders, how Wonyoung is so overcome from this sensation, writhing between your grasp. And it's happening sooner than expected, the little cries erupting through her moans, the desperation seeping in as her body starts to falter.

"Think she’s about to cum—aren’t you, princess?” you ask, kissing right behind Wonyoung's ear, that spot where you know she’s the most sensitive. Wonyoung can't respond with anything but broken moans, so Yujin does it for her.

"Good, want my fucking tongue all over her pretty pussy when she does. Want her to gush all over me." Yujin doesn't slow down for anything, doesn't miss a single moment. Not when those thighs tremble, not when her breath hitches.

"S-so close," Wonyoung whines out, in her cute, desperate voice, knowing it'll drive Yujin's efforts even more. She says little between her loud slurps, keeping a hand on Wonyoung’s quivering thigh to help stabilize the poor thing. 

“You wanna cum, princess? Show us how good this is making you feel."

An all-out assault comes on her clit before she can even think of a response. Every single flick of her tongue, everything Yujin can throw her way. Wet, sloppy, utterly obscene sounds echo and fill up the room, sounding more pathetic, more erratic the closer Wonyoung gets, trying to buck those hips further against Yujin's skilled mouth.

No restraint left for Wonyoung to carry as she lets loose at the speed Yujin fucks her sopping wet pussy with her tongue. Those long, slender fingers clutch right at the back of Yujin's head, fumbling through strands of damp hair to anchor her close to her cunt. 

It all just feeds Yujin to make her lose it. 

All it takes is one last, achingly long lick—Yujin's tongue dragging up from her drooling slit, then sealing tight around her clit. That's what sets the fireworks off, a gentle squeeze of her thigh to send the floodgates free. Wonyoung can’t stop from shaking uncontrollably, and you struggle to hold her upright with just how strong these sensations hit. 

Wonyoung cums hard—trembling in your arms, toes digging into the wet tiles beneath her feet while those pretty features contort. Her breaths come out in heavy pants with an overwhelming craving for Yujin's tongue, and gives every drop she releases, everything spilled into her mouth, cumming on her face, soaking everywhere her tongue makes contact.

It's beautiful to watch when she shatters completely. You try your best to keep Wonyoung upright as the violent spasms flow through her, legs all but useless as those moans let out right into the steam surrounding her. 

"Your cunt tastes so good when you cum, princess," she praises as her tongue swipes all over those soaked folds, cleaning up whatever she can. It’s too much for Wonyoung, and Yujin is far too good at knowing how to make this high linger, her movements not slowing in the slightest. 

And Wonyoung is so beautiful the way she trembles, face flushed, full lips parted, chest heaving when her cunt spills into Yujin’s insatiable mouth nonstop. 

Yujin won’t let up, that throbbing clit not leaving her lips until she's dragged out the most pathetic whimpers she can. The sounds are simply too irresistible, the cries and pleas only growing the harder Yujin slurps—knowing her favorite place is in between these thighs that can't stop violently spasming.

"F-fuck—enough. Stop. Please," Wonyoung whines out, fully leaning against you and almost impossible to balance between the two of you. Yujin does eventually, but not until she's made sure to lick every single part clean, only pulling away when those lips glisten with Wonyoung, and not a single drop is wasted.

After it's all over, Yujin lifts her head up and laughs, kissing up the porcelain skin of Wonyoung’s body yet to stop shaking, moving up to share her taste. "Our pretty, spoiled little brat. Always looks so perfect when she's making a mess," Yujin says when they break apart, dipping a finger back right into her warmth to get a little extra overstimulation out of her. 

"N-not my fault you're both so good at making me feel good. Have to be greedy when—when both of you ruin me so fucking well."

It's cute, to say the least. How overwhelmed and wrecked Wonyoung gets, trying so hard not to act desperate and failing every time.

You have not a thing to add, enjoying the view far more than anything else, while these two share a moment under the running water. Yujin wipes the tears in Wonyoung's eyes, kisses being placed against the pretty streaks down her face. "We didn't really get cleaned up here, did we?"

"We never do..." Wonyoung answers.

Now you're the one planting kisses on Wonyoung's wet skin, working your way from the spot behind her neck. Over her shoulders, down her bare back, Yujin does the same while she stands there, basking in the shower of attention both of you provide. 

"We should get you home, Wonyoungie. Get some food in you, get some rest. Your poor cunt could use a break."

Wonyoung laughs through a sniffle, with barely enough energy to get a nod out. "My legs don't work."

"You'll live," Yujin fires back, savoring the final moments of the hot water before she shuts the shower off. She grabs a towel to dry a helpless Wonyoung, then herself, while the two of you help her to the bench, right over the mess of clothes. 

"Oh yeah—daddy met someone, today. After he fucked me silly. Someone you might remember," Wonyoung says. Yujin can't help but be curious as she finishes drying off.

"Who?"

Wonyoung also can't help but look cute with a towel wrapped around her head as she sits down. "Gaeulie. You know, our old roommate. The shy nerdy girl from back when we started our first year here."

And Yujin is quiet for a second. A quick, subtle moment that lasts as long as her drying. "How could I forget? Girl ate pussy like her life depended on it. The quiet ones are always the biggest freaks in bed, I swear."

"She wasn't that shy," Wonyoung starts, fighting through a giggle at how utterly tired she looks. "When she was staring at daddy's cock after she walked in on us."

Well, now you just want to curl into a ball and disappear, now that this conversation is out in the open. Yujin doesn't show an ounce of hesitation to cackle. "Do I even wanna know where that happened?"

You give a stare. A bit of a plea for Wonyoung to leave the details a mystery. But it's pointless.

"The library, the one daddy said you were studying in earlier. All the way upstairs where that art section is that nobody fucking goes to. He fucked me right on the table that was apparently Gaeul's favorite study spot. Like, full on ruined it."

"Hey, you're the one that came all over it first, princess. No warning, just fucking flooded it," you reply, taking over the explanation. 

"Not my fault you were fucking me so hard. You should already know how easy it is to make me gush in public.” 

Shameless. Even when the exhaustion is setting in. Towels thrown on the ground, you think there's been enough public shenanigans for one day. You could use a night in—maybe an entire week. Some food, a nice, clean bed to spend lots of time curled up with these two brats, not even thinking about classes tomorrow.

By the time the three of you stumble in through the front door, Wonyoung can barely make it to the couch, mumbling something incoherent about ‘five orgasms in an hour is a crime,' before collapsing face down in the cushions. You'll carry her the rest of the way to the bedroom, you suppose. Up every step, down the hallway, right into the Yujin-scented sheets, as she gets to the business of ordering food. 

“Don’t forget my iced americano,” Wonyoung groans into the sheets. 

Yujin pauses at the edge of the bed, laughing as she starts scrolling through the menu. “It’s already pretty late. You really wanna be up all night?” There’s nothing but an incoherent sound as Wonyoung fades deeper into the pillows. 

She’s hopeless.

Setting the phone on the nightstand, Yujin perks up with this flirty little smile that overtakes her features, before she lies back and drags you down with her. "Food will take about an hour, so we have time. Which means—" 

You don’t even need to hear the rest of that sentence. Because now Yujin gets you alone again. 

Well, alone is a generous term. Wonyoung is just a few feet away in a sprawled-out heap, but very much not conscious, clinging to a pillow and drifting out of the conversation. "Whenever you wanna join in, princess, feel free." 

Maybe the idea of that will bring her back. Yujin kisses her on the forehead and brushes some hair away that’s fallen before returning her attention right to you. 

"So, daddy, she's exhausted, you're still hard…” Oh, there’s that look again, the one that ensures neither of you will get any rest any time soon. “We might as well find a way to pass the time. No holding back.” 

As if you’re not already craving her, stripping her down in seconds, kissing every inch of that sinful body and exploring those decadent curves. 

Throw your clothes somewhere, anywhere, as long as you get inside Yujin fast. Pin her knees to her chest, fold her in half and fuck her into the mattress until she can't do anything but scream your name. Make her cum more times than she can handle. Make her tight pussy flood the sheets until they're ruined, until she's ruined—that cunt so wet you can barely keep your cock inside. 

Fuck her right next to Wonyoung—your cock hammering so deep that Yujin can't stop shaking, your balls can't stop slapping against her ass, her voice can't stop falling apart. 

This slur of obscenities that gets reduced to ‘harder, daddy,” and ‘ruin me like you do Wonyoung’ until the sounds of hot flesh on hot flesh slapping together get deafening. You’ll give her everything she wants, spoil her, fuck her senseless and drive your cock so hard that there’s a modicum of worry that you’ll break the bed. 

Even if you did, that would only be a bonus. When you can turn that sweet smile into something so depraved, make her legs shake when you pound her so hard and deep. And she’ll beg for more, whimper with every breath, clutch at the sheets while you use her, every thrust unforgiving, every single slam an echoing thud against the wall. 

She’s still coherent when you’re about ready to fill her up, which means you’re not fucking her hard enough. And she’ll tell you the same, blur the lines between a plea and demand. 

“Fucking cum inside me, you’re not done pounding me until I’m dripping you everywhere—“ That’s what she says to get what she wants. Nothing new, but still enough to keep your hips moving, keep her legs folded in the air, keep her toes curling when  Yujin just can’t stop cumming on your cock. 

You’ll oblige, because all you can think of is unloading inside that tight, little warm cunt, fucking your seed deep, keeping her bent in half so obscenely, so her womb gets everything you give her, not a drop escaping. You’ll fuck her through all the creaks, even when she gets so impossibly slick with how hard you’re ravaging that warm little hole, feet dangling helplessly in the air through every single gasp and daddy. Those beautiful sounds. 

But the best sound is Wonyoung stirring to life next to you. Just to watch Yujin get her creamy little cunt destroyed—watch you bury every fucking inch in that tight fucking heat. 

"Yujin—" 

With Wonyoung’s eyes wide and locked on the depravity of this scene, watching Yujin folded in half, legs thrown up, pussy stretched and dripping as your cock slams into her, and the wet smack of your thrusts echoing through the room—you can’t hold back. Can’t do anything but bury yourself balls fucking deep and unload, groaning as you fill her up while Wonyoung watches it all. Eyes glued while you fuck this satisfaction deeper, already overflowing, pooling on the sheets that have no chance of surviving.

One more greedy orgasm for Yujin when it all spills inside, eyes rolling back, clenching hard to help milk your throbbing cock dry. 

"S-so fucking full, daddy—so warm, so deep, fuck, feels so good…” Even after that delicious cunt empties you, twitching around your cock as it milks the last remnants of cum from your balls, Yujin keeps clenching hard—greedy, insatiable, her body refusing to let you slip out. Her legs shift when they fall down, wrapping around your waist to keep you buried deep. 

You kiss Yujin while you still throb in that mess you’ve left in her, those delicious thighs far too powerful to let you escape. Which you’re more than happy to linger here, even with Wonyoung to the side. 

"Fucking wrecked me," Yujin gasps through a smile, no concern for anything but keeping you trapped inside. “Those poor balls just can’t stay full around us, can they?” 

Not a chance. 

"You two were so loud," Wonyoung chimes in, sitting up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. "Like, can't pretend to not notice, kind of loud."

Yujin, all naked and sweaty, laughs and leans in to kiss Wonyoung on the cheek while she tries to catch her breath. "You were louder earlier, brat." 

Then it’s quiet for a solitary moment. Just the sound of your breathing, the fan overhead, Yujin's playful little giggle in the aftermath. Those legs still wrapped tight, your cock still buried, still throbbing—

The doorbell rings downstairs. 

You forgot all about the food. The timing is impeccable. You can't possibly be expected to leave the bed like this, and neither can Yujin. Wonyoung groans when the realization sets in, and Yujin tosses a smile her way. 

"Princess, would you mind getting the door?"

A heavy sigh falls out as Wonyoung reluctantly detangles herself, somehow the least wrecked of the three. "Wonyoung to the rescue once again, because you two idiots fucked each other senseless."

Yujin nuzzles against the nape of her neck, brushing kisses over the warm skin to show her appreciation. "Be careful carrying the bag, might be too heavy..." she warns while Wonyoung glares as best she can. Sauntering out of bed, Wonyoung just scoffs with a little bit of extra hesitation in her step. 

"Just because I'm the only one who can still use their legs—" she grumbles as she heads down the stairs to get the door open, one step at a time. "Doesn't mean I have to do everything."

"Thanks, princess."

It's morning. Monday morning to be exact. 

You're naked, Yujin isn’t. She’s still getting ready for class when you find her, that sinful pair of lingerie you bought her last week hugging her curves just right. The light purple looks so good against her soft skin, wrapped in lace and devilish temptations. She doesn’t even notice you at first, adjusting a strap.

“You weren’t supposed to see this yet,” she says, catching your stare in the mirror. But Yujin doesn’t cover up, doesn't blush. She just smirks, lets the moment simmer, lets you stare. You step in close, pressing up against her body from behind—drinking in the view of those wide hips where the lace barely hides the full curves of her ass, the fabric almost daring to be pulled aside.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t walk around in it,” you reply back, not bothering to be subtle in the way your hands slide down, squeezing her ass while she melts under your touch.

“Not my fault you have no self-control, daddy. Still hard? Wonyoungie didn't do a good enough job taking care of that?" Yujin asks, her voice getting far too sultry this early.

"That mouth drives me fucking crazy, but—"

Yujin doesn't even turn around, hand reaching back to give a firm, forceful grasp that drives a groan right past your lips. "But you need someone to properly take care of this?" she continues for you, glancing up through the reflection while your breath hitches with her perfect grip. 

"Something like that." 

Those soft, cute giggles are always your favorite thing to hear in the morning. Even while she pushes her hips back against you, grinding enough to feel your hardness. “I’ve got ten minutes. Think that’s enough time to do something about this?” 

She knows it’s plenty. 

Yujin stares in the mirror as you grab her hips, and slide your cock right in the gap between her delicious thighs, all silky and warm. Not saying a word, she just bends a little, her thighs clenching so all that supple flesh traps your shaft tight, just how you like them. And then the soft little moans she makes when you graze against her cunt and thrust forward are heaven, the lace enough of a tease. 

Your hands tighten around her as you take the lead, pumping through that velvety flesh and fucking Yujin’s thighs, slow, deliberate drags back, slamming forward when you need more. It’s this combination of your moans and the friction of your cock dragging through her thighs that fills the space. Her hands flatten on the countertop, leaning her weight into it, so you can use her like this—more leverage to drive in between. 

Yujin doesn't even need to do anything. Just stand there, watch your face twist in pleasure, and look pretty. 

"God, daddy," Yujin murmurs, lips parted when you graze against the right spot. “You’re such a menace in the morning."

You can hardly even think straight to respond to that. "You show up in the bathroom wearing this, and you expect me not to be? Look at these thighs, Yujin. Can't blame a guy for going crazy over these."

"Can't a girl just look sexy without you wanting to blow a fat load all over them?" she asks, with this mocking bat of her eyelashes, through every long, overwhelming stroke of your dick between those succulent thighs. "Poor daddy. So obsessed with fucking my thighs that he'll do anything for it."

She says that like there's not a gasp or moan leaving her every few thrusts while you do so. No—she wants this as much as you. The fabric of her panties gets wetter by the second, but Yujin just smiles to herself, keeping herself braced on the vanity counter while you thrust—those heavenly thighs only encouraging your lust and desperation. 

You’ve completely lost control, pace quickening without thought as your hands clamp down on her hips, fingers digging in. Every time your cock glides through that soft, pillowy flesh, a shameless groan escapes at how you can’t stand how good Yujin feels, only getting better. 

"Don't ruin these pretty panties, daddy—they're my new favorite. Haven't even gotten to leave the house with them on, yet."

Oh, like you care. Like she cares. So much prettier if there's a huge stain covering them from your load, and she'd agree. Not that there's a chance of holding back, not when Yujin feels so perfect, when her thighs suffocate your cock so well.

"Too late."

They're ruined before you even get there—you thrust harder, fucking her silky-smooth thighs so fast that her ass jiggles just a little more each time you're buried between them. Yujin watches you fall apart, eyes locked on the mirror on how your cock thrusts between her thighs, matching your desperation with how she whimpers from her own sensitive clit rubbing against the lace so soaked and dripping wet.

Those thighs trap your dick as you fuck them faster, rougher, rapid thrusts plunging between the flawless skin, each stroke more frantic than the last. The friction, the heat, the way she squeezes around you—it’s too much. Her ass bounces with every thrust, right until the moment where you’re about to lose it all. There's only a split-second before it's too late to warn—a quiet groan into Yujin's ear.

And then, you erupt.

Bursting hard right between her thighs, over the expensive fabric, throbbing as you release a mess of thick, pearly spurts all over those poor panties. They're covered in you. She'll never wear these without remembering your hands gripping her hips, your seed clinging to every thread of fabric, smearing between her thighs. 

“Daddy really ruined these,” Yujin says, like she’s not the one still helping milk your cock with her thighs as your cum stains them, a stray spurt that hits the mirror that only makes her smile widen. "Fuck, I can feel you everywhere. Just covered in daddy's cum..." 

And you’re not the least bit apologetic. 

Not when you’re still throbbing between her thighs, with this sticky load that clings to the lace. “Almost as good as filling that tight little pussy. Unless you want that next.”  

Only then does your cock slip free, so Yujin can turn around and glance at you properly, giving a good look at the mess you’ve made on her. "Too bad we have class, then. Unless… we're planning to skip so you can finish what you've started."

That'd be so damn tempting. To stay in the bathroom with Yujin, rip those ruined panties right off and fuck her over the sink until you fill her over and over. But the responsibilities weigh more heavily—and so much work lies ahead if you miss a lecture. 

"Another time, Yujinnie. Gotta leave something for you to drain later.” 

The little pout that she gives is almost enough to make you change your mind. So is that smile. "Aw, look at daddy, being all boring and responsible.” 

"Forgive me. Maybe I can rail you in the bathroom between classes if you're a good girl." 

"And when has that ever happened? Me, good? Have I ever not been a complete handful?" Yujin reminds you. 

Never, of course. You’d be shocked if she suddenly turned over a new leaf—and honestly, a little disappointed. This is the girl who drops to her knees while the coffee’s still brewing, who’ll let you fuck her face while the bagels toast. 

The same girl who will slip a hand down your pants in the middle of class and jerk you off with a straight face, chewing her pen while pretending to take notes. Yujin isn't the type of girl to listen and behave. 

And you'd never want her to be. 

[deliwrites]

𝕐𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕆𝕦𝕣𝕤 // Saja Boys & Huntr/x

// DATE // 3rd of July 2025 → 5th of July 2025 // PAIRING //Huntr/x x Fem!Reader x Saja Boys // WARNING // Morally gray behavior, oblivious reader, (friendly)touches, fluff // WORDS // 2.5k+ // SUMMARY // Y/n moves in with the members of Huntr/x, expecting to feel like a guest—but instead finds unexpected comfort, soft affection, and maybe something more. She just doesn’t realize how closely she’s being watched… or how deep their interest really runs.

// Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five //

a/n: I'm really sorry, I have so many scenes in my head that I wanna write that I struggled to make this one. Not a lot happens in this, but I hope you still enjoy it! And I really hope the next chapter will be better!

Meanwhile with the Saja Boys. The five of them are frantically setting up hidden camera’s in every room. Of both the Huntr/x apartment and their own, just one floor below.

They had been at it since the moment the ladies had teleported near Luminara Entertainment. They had no idea how long they would take, but were thankful for Zoey’s updates.

Telling them exactly what they were doing, including helping Y/n through a panic attack, how they had calmed her down and… the toy incident.

That one had the group pausing mid-task, smirks tugging at their lips. Just the thought of her using it… yeah, that had taken up way more time that it should have.

“Okay, I think we’re nearly set,” Romance says finishing setting up the last camera. In the top corner of the guest bedroom hiding in plain sight. On top of the curtain rail. Soon to be Y/n’s new bedroom.

“All that’s left is to check if they actually work,” Jinu says. Baby the most tech savvy of the five of them installed the surveillance app on all their phones. Put a reminder in his own phone to also install it on the girls’ phones later.

It’s to keep her safe, they told themselves.

Not wanting to startle Y/n when she first arrives they go back to their own apartment when Zoey lets them know they are riding the elevator up.

Streaming the surveillance app to their tv so they could all makes sure Y/n was doing alright.

I felt jittery all over. Never in a million years did I expect to ever see Honmoon Tower from the inside. Let alone Huntr/x’s apartment.

And now… I get live here!?

When the elevator doors open they walk out casually. Carrying my bags, not allowing me to carry one of them. While I pretty much tiptoe out the elevator.

There is no shoe rack or anything, but the tiled floor looks to expensive for my cheap sneakers. Toeing them off I hold them with one finger in each heal. Practically sliding on my socks. I stare at all their song and albums on vinyl’s encased in acrylic which hang on the wall to my right in a perfect grid.

Slowly I walk further into the apartment, hiding my excitement. The girls disappear upstairs which has me halting by the spiral staircase that looks like it shouldn’t even work. I would fear each step would break the moment I stepped on the purple glass. Unless it’s not glass?

My eyes widen when my eyes finally catch the floor to ceiling windows that showcase the cityscape, glowing with life in this mid afternoon. Mouth in a perfect ‘o’ shape as I take in the rest of the ground floor of this two story apartment.

There is a open concept kitchen to my left, with beautiful sleek black cabinets with glowing under-counter lights and white marble countertops. A gold rim around the countertop making it look almost too expensive to wanna use. But boy do I want to. All the things I could bake here, I barely register me doing a silent happy dance by jumping from foot to foot for a bit. Think Anna from frozen when she shows Christof his new sled.

“Oh my god, that is adorable,” Abby says an adoring smile on his face. “I’m saving that,” he takes out his phone and saves the last minute of the live feed.

There is a dining table behind the kitchen, a gorgeous glass table with off white chairs, ten to be precise. Why would they need so many chairs? Did they hold meeting here?

The kitchen island has four green velvet like island chairs with black legs to match the cabinets and gold trims like the counter top. But why exactly four?

On the other side of the kitchen sits a gold iron bared shelving unit, floor to ceiling. See through with shelves at random heights. Behind it Two comfy chairs that could easily be a loveseat for two people hidden behind the iron shelves. The chairs the same green as the island chairs. A honey comb like side table in the middle of the two facing chairs. Also, is the floor an aquarium? What is that?

In front of me sat a sunken lounge area. Sofa so long it curled a bit like a snake. Pretty much becoming a half hexagonal shape. It looked incredibly comfortable, covered in a fluffy cream colored fabric. A few pillows in every corner, two blankets. Which is not nearly enough in my opinion. A duck plushy peeking just over the edge. The sight of is had me pick up my shoulders at the randomness of us in a silent chuckle.

Another two of those comfortable looking green chairs faced the couch. A hexagonal coffee table in the center of it with a gigantic blue, yellow and pink rug under it.

And was that… oh my god, a grand piano!

Gorgeous gold accents made of transparent dark blue acrylic. It’s always been a dream of mine to own a grand piano. And while obviously this one isn’t mine. I couldn’t wait to play it.

I’m still standing in the same place when I hear footsteps behind me, but before I can turn around, an arm wraps around my shoulder and I let out a soft gasp. My shoes nearly slipping from my fingers.

“It’s just us,” Rumi says with a soft chuckle. Zoey’s arm curls around my waist, taking my sneakers from me. Turning far enough to place them on one of the steps, managing to stay close keeping her hold on my waist.

Mira leans against the kitchen counter a few steps away, head tilted. “We were wondering if you got lost,” she says, a teasing tone in her voice, a smirk playing on her lips. Though her gaze is soft.

A flush crawls up my cheeks, subconsciously sinking deeper into the other twos hold. Not that they minded. “I didn’t want to overstep-” I mumble cut off by Zoey.

“Gwiyomi,” she says, squeezing my waist gently. “You live here now. You don’t have to hover like a guest.”

“You don’t need our permission just to breathe,” Rumi adds, squeezing my shoulder against her body. The smiles on their faces has my heart doing this - stupid - fluttery thing. Making me mentally shake my head. They are just being friendly, Y/n! Don’t you dare look for something that isn’t there.

Nodding, I let them guide me to the couch where they flop down, letting out a relaxing sigh. I carefully take a seat a little ways away, pulling my legs up. Only then do I notice they’ve changed out of their workout clothes. Rumi and Mira’s hair is down again like it normally would be. And they are all dressed in comfy pajama pants and oversized sweater. They look cozy and dangerously cuddlable.

Zoey’s phone bzzes beside her, she scans her phone before turning to me. What did she see that made her look at me so quickly?

Jinu So you all get into comfy clothes, and leave Y/n in her day outfit?

“Come, let go get you something comfy,” I don’t get the chance to protest as she starts pulling me off the couch. Practically dragging me up the stairs. We pass four doors, two on either side before she opens the third door on our left. “This is your room,” she announces enthusiastically.

Entering the room my feet are met with soft cream colored carpet, a complete contrast to the rug from the living room. The door opens too the left wall of the room, a smile white nightstand about a feet away from the door when it’s fully open.

My gaze is immediately drawn to the bed, centered on the soft lavender walls. The low, plush frame is wrapped in textured fabric that matches the tall headboard - stitched with clean vertical lines that make it look even softer. The pillows are freshly fluffed, dressed in dark lavender cases that match the sheets. At the foot of the bed lies a neatly folded white throw, like it was placed with care. On the far side of the bed stands a second, identical nightstand.

Zoey disappears into a walk-in closet tucked into the right corner of the room, the door cracked open behind her. Directly opposite the bed, a wide desk stretches along the wall, a plush chair tucked neatly in front of it. To the left of the desk is another door. And along the far wall, floor to ceiling windows reach from corner to corner, heavy cream curtains draped to either side.

I follow Zoey into the closet and find her shuffling through my clothes. Did they really have enough time while I gushed over their apartment to unpack my stuff?

“Ooh, this is cute!” she takes out one of my sweaters. A deep green crochet sweater with delicate flowers just below the shoulders across the collarbones. “Put it on!” she watches me with such bright eyes I didn’t dare leave the small space.

With a flush on my cheeks, I slip my fingers beneath the hem of the shirt I’m wearing and tug it over my head. Missing the way her eyes scan my exposed chest, only covered by a soft cup bra. I hold the shirt in front of me like a shield. It’s not like she hasn’t seen a body before, but somehow, being under her stare feels vulnerable.

She takes the sweater off the hanger and gives it to me. Putting it on, a squeal comes from Zoey. “You look so cute in this… Gwiyomi,” she winks.

“Thank you…” I mumble quietly, touched by the compliment, biting my bottom lip. Not used to these kinds of compliments. She returns her attention to the closet and swiftly finds a pair of light gray sweatpants and holds it out to show me.

She doesn’t have to tell me again, I instinctively unbutton my jeans. Shoving them down before nearly toppling over as I struggle to yank my foot out of the leg. But Zoey is there to steady me. Her hands, steady and warm, slipping just beneath the hem of my sweater to hold my waist.

Her fingers press into my skin gently but it’s the way she lingers that sends my brain spiraling. She's just keeping me balanced. That’s all. That’s what I tell myself as my heart does this traitorous stutter in my chest. Once I’m free from the jeans, I straighten up, cheeks burning.

“Here, let me help you,” Zoey crouches before me. Rolling up the legs. “Hold my shoulders.”

“I- okay…” I rest my hands on her shoulders, tentative, feeling how solid she is beneath my fingers. She guides me into the pants with such easy confidence I don’t know whether to feel grateful… or mildly humiliated. I mean, I can dress myself. But I’m not exactly in a rush to stop her, either.

Her hands glide over my skin as she pulls up the sweatpants. Fingers brushing along my thighs, then lingering on my ass for just a bit too long but it’s just an innocent touch. Right?

“Oh, and here,” she quickly sets my slippers in front of me. Letting me toe them on.

“Thank you, Zoey,” I murmur.

“Of course, gwiyomi,” my heart continues to flutter at the nickname, but I mentally shake my head. This is the third time she’s called me cutie. Maybe she just likes pet names? “Let’s go back down,” she takes my hand as she starts tugging me out of the room.

“Oh, wait, where does that door go?” I quickly ask before we can exit my new room. She hmm’s stopping in her tracks, looking at the door on the left side of the desk.

“That is your bathroom,” she grins before she continues to pull me along. Her hand holding mine like we’ve always done this. “When we first moved in we decided it wasn’t fair for either of us to have the ensuite,” she explains while we walk. “So we share the bigger bathroom.”

“But- how is it fair that I get it?” I ask, pressing my free hand to my chest like I was even less worthy of the ensuite myself.

“What’s not fair?” a male voice surprises me, finding Abby in the kitchen. Knife in hand while he looks our way with a raised brow.

“Oh,” Zoey waves a hand. “She thinks she doesn’t deserve the ensuite.”

“Why would you not deserve the ensuite?” It’s Romance, stood by the double stove.

“I- well, I-” unable to think of a reason I just stop talking. Tugging at the hem of sweater, self conscious of the small gap between my sweater and sweatpants that shows a sliver of my skin.

“This is a cute sweater,” It’s like Jinu appears out of thin air beside me. His fingers tracing the flowers on my collarbones.

“Oh,” a flush covers my cheeks. Will there ever be a moment with them where I won’t turn red like a tomato? “Thank you,” I nod once almost like I’m bowing to him in thanks. Jinu smiles before joining Abby and Romance in the kitchen. Zoey takes my hand again, guiding me back to the couch.

There sit Mystery and Baby like they come here often. Zoey tugs me down to sit between her and Baby, her thigh brushing against mine. I try not to let my feet rest against Baby. But he just sends me a smile with a look I can’t quite decipher. His hands find my ankles shifting my feet so the balls of them rest against his thigh.

I look between all of them, one question bouncing around in my head. “Do you guys visit each other often?” my question is sudden. I don’t mean for it to sound nosy but my curiosity gets the better of me.

“More often than you might think,” Abby chuckles.

If that is what it takes for them to spend as much time with Y/n as possible. Then meet up they would. Plus it would help with keeping each other updated if they were all there to see what happens with Y/n.

“We try to eat together at least a few times a week,” Mira confirms with a soft nod.

“Today, it’s our turn to cook,” Mystery says from the other side of Baby. “But, the girls told us you would be here, so we figured it was better for you if we came up.”

“Instead of making you come down to ours when you haven’t even settled in yet,” Baby adds, hand squeezing my ankle gently.

“You… didn’t have to include me,” I say, wide eyed. “You guys are friends-” a look unnoticed by Y/n is shared between the eight. “-I’m just a random person. I could have cooked for myself.”

“Nonsense,” Romance replies instantly. “Plus you deserve a little comfort after what happened today.”

“And if the girls are ever out, and you need something,” Jinu starts. “We will be at your service,” he winks voice a little deeper than normal.

Okay, what is happening to this heart of mine? Quiet down, they are JUST being friendly.

// Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five //

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[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello! I wanted to say that I really liked your Huntrix and Saja Boys being besties with the manager reader, and a thought came to mind. What if manager reader also gives the best hugs and is surprisingly cuddly so huntrix and saja boys fight each other for reader's hugs and cuddles.

If there was anything both Huntrix and Saja boys can agree on it would be the fact thar you gave the best hugs they've ever had, how heavenly they felt to the point your hugs had become somewhat of an addiction for them all at some point.

Zoey was the first to experience your hugs -having done so in a fit of excitment and happiness- yet the second she felt you hug her back was the stark constract to her tight embrace, it was soft and assuring as you rubbed her back gently, a calm balm to her energetic self. Zoey had to fight the urge to fully colapse within your arms, burrow her head into your neck and fall asleep there for the rest of the day becuase that's how your hugs had affected her so much.

She would later tell Mira and Rumi and Bobby that your hugs were like that of a security blanket, reassuring, warm and grounding, something that she could anchor herself to without the fear for of drifting away. Almost as if you had magic within your fingertips, witholding a warmth that made her skin tingle pleasently.

Romance was the first out of the Saja boys that you hugged, even if it was brief and cordial, and yet it might as well have lasted for eternity for him. To him being embraced in your hug had brought up softer feelings a demon shouldn't be feeling, there was comfort, there was a sense that he could be allowed to breath and not worry so much as it all seened to fade away from his mind as he allows himself to melt within you hug with a genuine smile upon his face.

He goes back and tells Abby, Baby, Jinu and Mystery that your hugs were like being welcomed home, a sense of belonging and a feeling of being seen and still being worthy of love, and how your hugs made him feel as though he could breath again and learn to drop the facade now and then. Your hugs made him feel as though he didn't feel the need to hide but instead find respit in your hold, letting you run your hand up and down his back, all the while he wanted to rest his head upon your shoulder and just shut his eyes.

Now that both groups were aware of the power you hugs and cuddles hold after experiencing them firsthand for themselves, there came a not so silent competition between the two to see who could recieve them first or the fastest, which brought about the competitive sides within both groups as neither were all that eager to loose to the other in the slightest. They both wanted all of your hugs and cuddles as much as they can whenever possible, even if it meant somewhat disrupting your work ethic doing so, something they try not to do so much but it will happen now and then, but at least they apologised and made it up to you by spoiling you in droves.

Jinu acted like he wouldn't participate un such a thing- but the fact that he was wandering the hallway of your apartment said otherwise- however he should've known better then to think that he would be the only one here for your hugs because when he was just about to come into the living room, he saw you hugging Rumi who looked him dead in the eye and smirked as she burrow her head into your shoulder, holding you tightly as you ran your fingers through her unbraided hair and easing the tension that you was certain was there.

'You're doing great Rumi but you need to start resting more, taking time off even if it's for a week, the fans aren't going to be upset and they'll understand and wait until you girls come back.' Jinu heard you say and he clenched his jaw, jealously filling his chest as he watched how Rumi hogged all of your attention all to herself, not leaving an ounce for him or the boys to have later on from how she seemed to cuddle into you almost possesively. He thought the competition between huntrix and Saja boys stupid and yet he would find himself willingly participating in it regardless, your hugs were like heaven to him and drowned out any voices that he could be hearing at that time, making him feel the safest he’s been in a long, long time.

Rumi on the other hand was enjoying every second the hug continued, finding herself more at peace within your arms, finding a reason to relax and be a little lazy if it meant staying here in your embrace, and leeching off of your warmth like she was now. She was hardworking, headstrong and a bit of a workaholic but within your hugs she was the opposite and she was loving every second of it, even when it was to the detriment of Jinu as it was a way to rub it in that she got to you first and that he’d have to wait until she was done; which wouldn’t be until like thirty minutes from now.

‘Rumi?’ You asked.

‘Yeah?’ She says sluggishly.

You chuckle. ‘Don’t tell me you’re close to falling asleep just from a hug?’

Rumi shrugs, burrowing herself closer to you, all the while making sure Jinu’s pout as he stormed off back down the hallway was engraved within her head. ‘What can I say? Your hugs are healing.’ And she wasn’t joking when she said that.

Mira was confident that she was going to get her hugs in today, having had a rough day in preparation for the newest Huntrix album, all she wanted was to rest her head on your chest as you swaddled her in your warmth on your beloved couch. Her body almost puts itself in a relaxed state before she had even gotten to you -she guessed it was her body’s way of telling her that you were close by- already stretching her arms out in hopes to be greeted with a hug without words, only to find you cuddling Romance while Abby was cuddling you, it was a cuddle sandwich and you were the delectable filling.

‘Oh you’re here,’ Abby says, caressing your sides, ‘why we’re a little overbooked right now, come back in about…an hour and a half, maybe two.’

Mira glares at him, her arms dropping to her sides quicker than anything as your fingers ran through Romance’s hair, your fingers should be running through her hair not his! Romance didn’t make things easier as he opened one eye to look at her, a smile tugging at his lips as he wiggles his fingers at her in a mock greeting, which only served to piss her off even more but wouldn’t dare loose her shit in front of you in the slightest and would try -keyword being try- to keep things civil as ling as the boys sandwiching you did.

‘Too slow.’ He mouthed to Mira as she huffed, quite literally done with this game as she walked over to the couch, staring the three of you down as you looked up at her with confusion while Abby and Romance were waiting for just about anything. What either Saja Boy didn’t expect was for Mira to muscle her way between you and Romance, forcing him to be squished to the back of the couch while Abby groaned under the additional weight, and snuggle herself into you as she clung onto your waist.

‘Guess I think we’re going to fall off the couch.’ You warned, liking the attention you were being given, but could feel that all of you were slowly but surely tipping over the edge of the couch that was more or less made for luxury comfortability then anything else.

‘Get off.’ Romance hissed at Mira who only hugged you tighter.

‘No you fuck off.’ She hisses back as Abby too was hissing at her to leave you to him and romance, completely obviously to the fact that you were about to fall off of the couch within a matter of seconds.

‘Guys.’ You tried again but nothing worked and before you knew it you, Abby, Mira and Romance were all on the floor, the cuddle session was ruined the second you all fell to the floor groaning. ‘I did try to tell you that there was too many people on the couch, three was pushing it already but four-‘

‘Four is a crowd.’ Romance mutters as Mira, somehow still clinging onto you, only smiled at him knowing that she ruined his and Abby’s cuddle session short to have her own instead.

‘Oops.’ Was all she said, though she wasn’t anything but happy to have you all to herself now, even if it was on the uncomfortable floor but she’ll take what she can get.

It had been a while since the competition had started and it had only gotten worse since as Zoey, Mira and Rumi were walking towards your room in hope for some group cuddles, however to their dismay Abby, Romance and Jinu were already there at your doorway looking in with pouts upon their faces which made the girls pause for thought in their steps, having noticed that their rival idol group were two members down.

So where were Baby and Mystery?

Cuddling you they would soon find out as they shoulder checked Abby, Romance and Jinu out of the way to see what they could see, only to see Baby cuddled into your side as Mystery cuddled at your feet, yet they weren’t the only ones as you had two more additional guests in a big fluffy blue tiger cuddled at your head as the bird with the tiny hat was resting upon your chest. All of you were fast asleep and looked to be in no mood to be woken up either, far too comfortable in your current state to wake up even if a megaphone was set off within range of your ears. Thank god your bed was big enough for all of you, but damn if you didn’t all look comfortable together, content in heaven and cuddles that all the rest of them could feel was jealously for being left out.

‘We’ve been looking for them for hours and here is where they’ve been, selfish.’ Abby said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

‘Tell me about it.’ Mira replied as she saw the smile upon Baby’s face as he slowly but surely flips her, Rumi, Zoey and the rest of his band mates off.

‘Cheeky bastard.’ Romance spat as Baby’s arm fell limp at your side, clutching onto you tightly as he made a deliberate show of hooking a leg over your hip and burrowing his head into the crook of your neck. Mystery was limp as anything but would occasionally grunt and kick his leg before going still once more.

‘Boo.’ Zoey chimed in as she pouts, Rumi pats her on the shoulder as Jinu only looked on in betrayal of his animal companions having lost themselves without your warmth and companionship. The competition was stupid but none of them were willing to commit nor trusting of the other group to a truce, so they’ll continue to stand at your sorry like a bunch of neglected children in varying degrees of weird but cute cartoonish pyjamas.

[cherrygirlfriend]

─── YOU'VE GOT MAIL .ᐟ

...or what it's like to be scared.

★ pairing.ᐟ frat!rafe x nerd!reader

★ summary.ᐟ rafe cameron is the golden boy of kildare university; certified frat boy, captain of the football team, relentless party animal with lines of girls to sleep with.

reader couldn't be more different; while she has the best grades in the whole school, she suffers from social anxiety disorder, and her social life is limited to her three best friends and the cat she secretly snuck into her dorm room.

both of them decide to join the anonymous chatroom for their campus, and start talking to one another, a friendship starting to form between the two; but neither of them know how different the other is.

★ author's note.ᐟ i still intend on logging off however as there’s literally one chapter left after this i’m gonna post it sometime next week, and i’m logging off again until then. thanks everyone for the well wishes. i don’t know how long i’ll be gone but it’s gonna be at least for now.

YOU'VE GOT MAIL!

"don't fuck it up rafe. don't fuck it up rafe. don't fuck it up rafe."

the sentence echoed throughout rafe's brain, and he was unable to contain himself, the boy getting on his feet, rushing after you, all the words his friends had said to him turning into nonsense. for once, he listened to his heart.

"wait!" he called out, grabbing your arm, forcing you to turn around to face him, your eyes glistening with tears, "what do you want? i thought you didn't need a random chick you met on the internet in order to feel like a badass?" you scoffed.

"i'm an idiot." was the only thing rafe said before he closed the distance, pressing his lips on yours.

what rafe hadn't expected, was that only after his lips had been on yours for only a few seconds, you'd pushed him off of you as soon as you could react, looking at him with an expression of pure confusion bordering on disgust, making the boy's brain glitch. "rafe, what the fuck was that?"

"i- i thought that would be... a good way to show you how i feel for you...?" "i'm- jesus! rafe, this is not some cheesy romcom! kissing me after saying something like that about me is not in any way romantic. it's- it's insulting." "oh."

the seriousness slowly started falling from your face when you saw the redness starting to creep onto his cheek, rafe's hand scratching the back of his neck, the boy looking at anything but you, a soft chuckle escaping your lips that finally made his blue eyes snap to you.

"if you want to show me how you feel for me... just talk to me. tell me how you feel." "ohhh..." "so?" you cross your arms. "are you gonna tell me?"

rafe cleared his throat, looking down at the ground, "i don't really know how to talk about this 'feelings' shit." "you weren't that bad at it when you said things to me on the app." "yeeeah, but there's a difference. doing it like this is... all awkward and whatever."

"suit yourself. bye, rafe." you smile at the boy, but just as you were about to turn away from him, you felt a warm hand clasp around your wrist. when you looked back at rafe, he had his eyes pressed closed, the boy taking in a deep breath.

"when i talk to you... i feel the kind of happiness i've only ever felt when i won a big match. but, like, tripled. you're wicked smart and even though we joke about it sometimes, you never make me feel stupid. you're... yourself. even when i didn't know you were... AnnabelLee, when you were just you... you were always so bright, like sunlight.

rafe shifted on his feet, his eyes slowly opening, jaw clenched, "i don't think i deserve you. i'm not good enough for you, and i've been so fucking scared that you'd agree with that thought. that you'd think i'm just some dumbass who doesn't know how to treat girls right, like most people do. but... i've never felt this way towards another girl and that fucking terrifies me. i didn't mean anything i said to my friends, but i was scared that you didn't want me after you knew who i really was. you're not just some random chick, and i shouldn’t have said that because you're... the chick. and i'm the biggest idiot in the world." he chuckled in a slightly self-deprecating manner, rafe's mouth pressed together in a tight-lipped smile, "you're... you're the girl i love."

your eyes widened slightly and your jaw dropped at the confession; and somehow the brain that is usually on overdrive, overthinking every single thing, was now empty, as if all the cogs usually turning inside your head had stopped, like those simple words were the only thing enough to cause a malfunction.

"can you... can you say something?"

"you... you love me?"

"yeah." rafe says in a throaty voice, making him clear his throat as he looks down at the ground, "i... i love you."

you felt as if your knees were going to buckle underneath you as you took a shaky step towards rafe, swallowing down every single doubt that was threatening to crawl up your throat. all you could do was reach a hand out to his cheek, his blue eyes flickering to your face and you saw something you hadn't ever seen on his face before; vulnerability.

and this time it was you who closed the gap between you two, connecting your lips.

it was something neither of you had expected; you'd never made a move on a guy, and when rafe didn't kiss you back for a short moment, you nearly started pulling away, only to feel him molding his lips to fit against yours, his hand on your waist as he pulled you closer to his chest.

no one had ever kissed you the way that he had; no one had ever made your fingertips tingle against their skin, no one had ever made electricity shoot through your entire body.

when you pulled away from the kiss, you were nearly left breathless, your face only inches away from rafe's, his large hand moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as he smiled down at you softly. "fuck."

you let out a breath of a chuckle, your lower lip stuck between your teeth as you looked up into the blue eyes that were now mostly pupil, before mumbling softly, "yeah. fuck."

your lips felt like they were buzzing with electricity for the entire walk back to your dorm as you and rafe walked together with your fingers interlocked, neither of you saying a thing, only listening to the soft breeze of the wind, your arms pressed together...

and they were still buzzing the next morning when you woke up.

and when you were sitting in the cafeteria with vivian, zainab and emilia...

"i kissed rafe."

the words are out of your mouth as soon as you sit down at the table where your friends were eating, vivian coughing from nearly choking on a meatball.

"wwwhhaattt-" she wheezed before continuing to cough, starting to hit her own back, "i think what vivian meant to say was... what the hell?" emilia interjected.

you couldn't help the radiant smile that took over your lips, a soft squeal leaving your lips. vivian's coughs started subsiding, and the girl took a large gulp from her bottle of water before turning to you, "you two kissed? when?"

"last night." you bit down on your lower lip, your cheeks hurting from how hard you were smiling. "what was it like?" zainab asked, softly nudging your shoulder.

"it was... like nothing i've ever felt. i can't even describe it with words."

"you can't describe something with words?" vivian snorted, and you could see zainab kick the girl under the table, making her let out an ouch! but somehow even her quip wasn't enough to bring you down from cloud nine.

"it felt like... when you find the correct spot for a puzzle piece. it felt like i finally understood what people in romance books and movies were talking about. like every part of my body was on fire from a blaze that he started. like i couldn't breathe if he wasn't touching me."

"wow..." emilia mumbled softly as he looked at your dazed expression.

"shit." vivian chuckled, "imagine how it'll be when you finally bang." "viv!" zainab exclaimed, throwing a fry at the pink-haired girl, who simply shrugged and grinned back at her.

"shut up, viv." you rolled your eyes, but couldn't help but smile, "real talk, i'm happy for you." vivian reached out to take hold of your hand, "you deserve a guy who gives you fireworks, babes."

when he entered the cafeteria, it was like the whole room brightened, your eyes immediately drawn to him.

you watched as rafe walked into the cafeteria with a group of his friends, playfully punching one of them on the arm before turning his head to look right back at you. and when his lips quirked up into a smile, yours did too.

you didn't even notice the way your friends followed your eyes to the boy before turning back to each other, "yeaaah, she's so gone."

you were laid up in your dorm room working on homework when you heard a sharp knock, angel's head quirking up, the cat looking to you, both of you sharing a confused look. as you got out of bed and made your way to the door, the white, fluffy cat followed at your feet, your eyes widening once you pulled open the door and saw who was on the other side.

"hi." rafe said with a slightly sheepish wave, holding a shoe box in his other hand. "hi." you mumbled softly, "can i, uh, can i come in?" "oh, yeah, of course."

stepping aside, you allowed rafe into your dormitory, the boy gazing around the different things in your room when you realized you were clad in an old stevie nicks t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, your cheeks starting to feel warmer in embarrassment, "what, uh, what are you here for?" you mumbled, a tight-lipped smile on your face.

"oh, yeah." rafe chuckled softly, "we have a game tomorrow, and i was wondering if you were coming." "vivian mentioned it earlier," you nodded, "i dunno, i mean, i don't really know anything about football." you chuckled breathily, "and... i have a lot of homework..."

"yeah, yeah. i get that..." rafe mumbled, before clearing his throat, "i... i really want you to come." your eyes widened, "you do?" "yeah. i do." he smiled softly, holding the shoe box out to you, "you could even wear this. if you want to. if you're not too busy."

you took the shoe box he was offering to you and opened it, seeing a folded piece of fabric. "what's this?" you chuckled softly, placing the shoe box down on your bed as you unfolded it.

"it's my jersey. i've seen some of the guys loan them to... uh, girls." "how many girls have you loaned it out to?" you chuckled playfully as you admired it, "none. just you." rafe shrugged. you placed the jersey down, turning to rafe and taking a deep breath, a small smile on your lips, "well, maybe you'll see me there. and maybe i'll wear that."

as rafe was about to turn to leave, you took hold of his wrist and he turned back to you, "but if i come to the game, you better win it." you got on your tiptoes, pressing a kiss on his cheek.

TAGLIST: @yktayy9669 @tinythebunni @dywho @melalsworld @akobx @samwinchesterisawhore @st8rkey @jjasmiineee @ltristessedureratoujours @a-lovers-card @uselessnewt @lunaleah @letstryagaintomorrow @cinnamqnnlatte @papapoy @kay133sposts @wtfisastiles @butterfly1c @emmiesummers @melodyyybubbles @toomanywhitelies @littl3loveydovey @scne-vampire @alwaysmaybank @mysticbby2009 @luna443 @drewstarkeyswife-7 @flowerluvr @kisselxoll - cont. in com

[majestyeverlasting]

Would you do a inexperienced reader x joel? For your requests😊

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

This piece contains 18+ content

pairing joel miller x female reader

summary you stay the night at joel’s because it gets harder to leave every time [no outbreak, fluff, smut, wc 3.5k] 

a/n really enjoyed writing this request! there's something about a man who's mature, and attentive, and knows what he's doing...

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

Stay. The request repeats in Joel’s head like a broken record, but never weakens or distorts. It teeters on the tip of his tongue, but he has yet to utter the word out loud. It persists as he sees you to the front door and watches you step into your shoes to mark the end of another memorable night. One that made him realize he very well may be in love. 

Part of him always feared he wouldn’t be able to recognize the feeling when it arose, that it’d slip between his fingers before he could curl them and hold on tight. But Joel knew it was love because it had gotten to the point where even your laughter knocked him off his feet. He was so attuned to your happiness that he clung to every iteration. 

A small smile settles on your face as you meet his gaze, purse on your shoulder, ready to go. Joel rubs the back of his neck, but he’s not nervous. He knows what he wants to ask, and the raw energy of that desire buzzes beneath his skin. 

“Feels like you just got here,” he laments as he lowers his arm. If that were true, the moon and stars wouldn’t be visible in the night sky. 

You nod despite the fact that you’d eaten dinner with your knee against his, talked through a movie tucked into his side, let yourself relish the comfort of being in his home. These days, it feels like yours too. 

“You make it harder to leave every time,” you admit. It’s a light dig.

Joel tilts his head just enough for you to notice. “Do I now?” 

You nod thoughtfully. “You treat me really well,” you say. “Really, really well.” That hadn’t been the case with everybody who entered into your life. Perhaps you’d already expressed that to him in a million different ways, but the emphasis doesn’t feel wrong on a night like this. 

You’ve never had a relationship as steady and constant as what you have now with Joel. The sincerity of  your words warms a proud part of him. 

“I’m happy to,” he says. “You know that, don’t ya?” 

That’s what terrified and delighted him—the ease of it all. Maybe things would be different if it felt like a chore. 

“I know.” 

A smile tugs at Joel’s lips as he steps closer. “Also reckon you know I gotta steal one last good night kiss.” 

Butterflies burst to life in your stomach when Joel cups your cheek and presses his soft lips to yours. He pulls away much too soon, and you’ve never felt the lingering ache of want quite like this. The feeling weaves itself between the bones of your ribcage. 

“I’ve been thinkin’,” he starts, hopeful. “Would you wanna stay the night?” 

A lump forms in your throat. You hadn’t brought any extra clothes or toiletries. And you’d left the light on above your stove to ensure you didn't come home to a dark apartment. Even then, the response to Joel’s question is a reverberating yes in your mind. It’s the only answer that makes sense when you’ve been unsure about so many decisions in this life. 

“If you’ll have me.”  

He kisses you in place of an answer, large hands kneading your waist like you’re his tether to Earth. A small sound rises up your throat when his tongue runs over your lower lip in a light, almost ticklish sweep. 

Joel pulls away, eyes searching yours. 

“M’sorry,” you breathe shyly. 

He strokes your cheek with his thumb. “I like hearin’ ya.” 

The new warmth that spreads through you is deeper, unfamiliar, more consuming. Joel has never been one to refrain from dishing compliments or a well-timed remark. Now something different burns beneath the gruffness of his voice. 

“Wish I heard you more sometimes,” he continues. “You’re my little church mouse.” There’s a disarming glimmer in his eyes.

You pout as a smile threatens to break through. “No I’m not.” 

You could be loud if you needed to be. Joel had the singular ability to hear you even when you hadn’t said a word. You never had to vie for his attention or assert yourself for fear of going unheard. 

As a stillness settles between you, he slips his thumbs beneath your shirt to brush your stomach. He smirks when you look down at his hands to escape his gaze. 

A pleasant flame has kindled within you.  

“Might as well get comfy again since you’re stayin’,” he says, then amends, “Since you can’t seem to get enough of me.”

You huff a laugh and look up at Joel again. He’s handsome in the dim light of the foyer. A few strands of silvering hair fall onto his forehead. His dark eyes bear that same intensity that always drew you in instead of away. This time, it’s you who raises a hand to his face. Your fingertips run over his prickly scruff, and his eyelashes flutter when you run a finger down the slope of his nose. 

That indescribable tug within you hasn’t faded away 

“Like what you see?” Joel asks, voice low, partly teasing. 

He doesn’t move for fear you’ll pull away. You trace the dip of his Cupid’s bow, and when you go lower, he puckers his lips against your finger in a delicate kiss. Your gentle touch and heavy eyelids have made more warmth kindle low in Joel’s belly. It’s your thoughtfulness that does it for him. You’ve never been quick to rush into anything. You always think, then think some more, and he can see that’s what’s happening now. 

“I’ve always liked what I’ve seen,” you finally say. 

“Well, there’s a whole lot more of me.” He presses in. “We can take this upstairs if you’d like.” 

“Alright,” you murmur, lowering your hands from his face. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

Joel offers his hand. It nearly engulfs yours as he leads you towards the staircase. 

•••

In his bedroom, his lips find yours in an fervent kiss, hands firm where they grasp along your sides. You’re so dizzy, you lose track of everything except Joel. Reality rushes in when you begin to fall backwards. 

After your back hits the mattress, Joel’s plush lips trail a line to your jaw and down your throat. His body is solid above yours, but you don’t feel the brunt of his weight. Your hands shakily comb through his disheveled hair as your heart hammers in your ears. It feels like you’re a live wire and he’s the water making you spark. 

When he stands, leaving you lying there, the rise and fall of your chest is embarrassingly pronounced. You watch with hooded eyes as he pulls off his shirt. Wispy hair is splayed across his chest, and a darker line of it leads down from his navel. He’s broad and rugged. 

“Told you there was more,” he drawls with a smile in his voice. 

You’ve never wanted another person as more as you want Joel now. But you can’t help but be aware of the fact that you’re out of your depth. Aside from what you’ve gathered vicariously, this is new. You don’t have half the courage you imagined you would. 

You manage to push yourself upright on shaky arms. That’s when Joel notices the look in your eyes. 

“I didn’t hurt ya, did I?” his brows furrow with worry. “M’sorry.”

You swallow and shake your head. “I’m just a little nervous.” 

“Nerves are okay,” he assures. “Long as you want this.”

“I do,” you promise. 

Joel studies you to be sure. “I want you real bad, but the world’ll keep turning if we don’t have sex tonight.” 

There’s something about his shamelessness and directness that makes you want him even more. 

“Don’t wanna screw this up.” You exhale a self-deprecating laugh, and Joel purses his lips. Then the deeper truth comes out, “Want it to be good for you.”  

Joel scrubs at his scruff with a husky chuckle. “Got me all wound up, so I’d say you’re off to a helluva start,” he says, then his gaze softens. “It’s already good for me.” 

His words give you enough courage to lift your shirt over your head. Your bra is trimmed with lace, and the crotch of his jeans grows tighter. You’re so beautiful that sometimes he can’t believe it—mind and body. 

You still his hands as he begins to unbuckle his belt. 

“May I?” The way you blink up at him makes him curse under his breath. 

You pull his belt free from the loops when you’re done. After popping the button and dragging the zipper down, Joel goes weak in the knees when you peer up at him with a sweet, shy smile. Then his breath catches when you lean forward to kiss the pudge of his belly. You bite your lower lip as he pushes his pants down and kicks them to the side. 

The bulge between his muscular thighs is prominent through his gray boxer briefs. It swells as you unexpectedly unclasp your bra and toss it to the floor. 

“Christ, sweetheart,” he groans, palming himself. 

With his free hand, he gingerly cups one of your breasts and runs his thumb over your pebbled nipple. The sensitivity makes you jolt. 

“Wanna scoot up the bed for me?” 

You move before the full sentence has left Joel’s mouth, a little braver now. The mattress dips as he crawls overtop of you. It all happens so fast. His lips find the pulse point of your neck, then descend along your sternum in a line of kisses. He strays off course to pepper some over the supple skin of your breasts, then even lower. Your hips shift as he kisses your stomach. 

With deft fingers, he undoes your shorts and helps you shuck them to the floor. Joel guides your knees to a propped position, then lays between your legs like he belongs there. The muscles of your thighs twitch with the threat of closing as his finger teases along the seam of your panties. 

“Joel…” you say his name because you’re not sure what else to say and it feels like you’re on fire. 

“Just admiring,” he assures, stilling. “You doing okay? Just say the word.” 

The thought of this ending pains you. “Please don’t stop.” 

Joel hides his knowing smile in the hot kiss he presses beneath your bellybutton, then over the top of your mound, then over the damp fabric where you ache for him. An unsteady breath leaves you when he hooks both index fingers beneath your waistband and stares into your eyes so deeply you want to hide. 

“How ‘bout we get these outta the way...” 

Joel is nothing short of careful and attentive as he drags the fabric down your legs. Upon resettling between them, he kisses your inner thighs, noting the way your muscles jump. He’s so close, the fan of his breath feels cool where your arousal has gathered.

“So here’s the deal,” he starts in a low timbre that makes you clench around nothing. “I’m really good with my hands… amongst other things.” He pauses to trace the crease of your thigh. He’s surprised his own voice doesn’t waver at the sight of you glistening for him, because of him. “Just gotta let me know when something’s workin’ for you and we’ll be aces.” 

It’s a miracle you don’t melt straight through the mattress. 

“Okay.” It’s your quietest response all night. 

“Okay,” he parrots with a glimmer in his eyes. 

You’ve never been this turned on in your life. This hot. 

“I don’t think I’m gonna make it,” you admit in a murmur.  

The thicker, dazed quality of your voice makes Joel kick up in his boxers. As his lips twitch in amusement, he fights the urge to take you right this second. 

“Guess we’ll pray for the best then.” 

The world freezes when the pad of his middle finger finds your clit and begins to rub firm circles. When your brows pinch together, he trails it downwards through your slick entrance as it flutters in want. 

He ventures back to your swollen bud to work a steady pace. The pleasant tension within your core roots even deeper than before, snaking and expanding. Holding your breath and tensing your muscles seems to make it swell faster. 

“Relax, sweetheart,” Joel soothes. “It’ll feel better on the tail end if you do.” 

You’re too worried he’ll stop not to listen. 

“There ya go,” he praises. “Think I’m ready for a taste.” 

There’s no further preamble before he presses a feathery kiss to your clit. At your jolt, he suckles it into his mouth and feels out your reactions. Your fingers immediately curl into his taupe sheets, but that’s not enough, so you bury them in Joel’s hair to scratch against his scalp. The stimulation paired with the warmth of his mouth grows to be so much that your thighs involuntarily close around his head. His stubble prickles against your velvety skin. 

The vibrations of Joel’s hum remind you that he’s a real person down there, and you force your legs back open with what’s left of your coherency. He rewards you by running the flat of his tongue from your opening to your clit. Electricity prickles beneath your skin as you arch off the bed to chase him. 

This time, he sucks your clit into his mouth with more pressure than before and you lose yourself in the sensation. 

Before long, he lifts up and replaces his mouth with his finger. 

“Feelin’ good?” His question comes as you cant up into his touch with a quivery breath. “What’s my baby want more of?” 

You whimper because, as impossible as it seems, he hasn’t done anything you don’t prefer. You want more of everything—whatever he’s willing to give. If he does happen to fall off the mark, you’re certain he’ll find it again before you even say a word. 

Joel is gracious enough not to make you spell it out. He takes it upon himself to draw an orgasm so strong and concentrated out of you, that all you can do is shut your eyes and surrender to the swell as he sees you through. 

Your eyes flutter open just as he shuffles back off the bed to push his boxers down. His cock lifts towards his stomach in a smooth, impressive swing. Traversing veins are strained along the length of him and his mushroom tip is flushed in a testament to his need. Dark, wispy curls surround his base. 

A fresh surge of eagerness and anticipation warms you down to your toes. Joel smiles shyly when your eyes flit up to his, and it’s the first time all night he’s looked a little self-conscious. You’re the first person he’s bared himself to in quite some time. 

Words escape you as he crawls back over your frame. He braces one hand beside your shoulder and uses the other to give himself a few tugs to ease the ache. You’re beautiful beneath him, all wide-eyed and longing. 

His stomach clenches when you reach out to replace his hand, tentative and careful as if he’ll break. You give him a couple strokes, and even though there’s a bit more friction than he would normally prefer, it feels good because it’s you. He’s rigid in the palm of your hand, throbbing in dull pulses. You’re not sure if gorgeous is the appropriate word, but it’s the only one you can think of. 

“I’ve been missing out,” you lilt after working up the courage. 

Joel flushes as he laughs, those lovely crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. He lowers to kiss you, then guides the tip of his arousal to your cunt. The beady pearl of his wants mixes with the glide of you, and you frown when he stops to reach towards the nightstand drawer. 

As he resumes his position, you realize he’d grabbed a condom. He rips the packet open with his teeth and promptly rolls the rubber down himself. 

“Think m’gonna pass out if I don’t get inside you soon,” he says, eyes searching yours to check in. Even in his brazenness, there’s a familiar honeyed quality to his voice that sets you at ease. 

You laugh even as a small spell of apprehension returns. Joel notices, and refuses to let the levity dissipate so you don’t fall back into your head. 

“Is that funny?” he asks in feigned offense. “You’re the one who’s got all the goddamn blood in my head rushing south.” 

He playfully pinches at your waist and a breathless giggle stutters out of you as you squirm. When you helplessly look up at him, Joel smooths a hand over your skin as fondness settles in his dark eyes. 

“Hey. Remember what I said?” he asks as he lines himself up between your thighs. “Just say the word.” 

The sensation of him pressed hot and heavy against your entrance has cleared everything from your mind except desire. 

“I’m okay.” An encouraging smile pulls at your lips. “Just need you really bad, Joel.” 

Hearing his name makes him twitch as he runs himself through your folds. 

“M’right here, baby.” He notches at your entrance. “Deep breaths for me, okay?” 

A dull ache thrums through you as Joel eases into your warmth. You whine after the thickness of his tip has breached. 

“That’s it,” he coos. “Just like that.”

All you can do is hum airily and watch where he disappears within you.

“Feels like heaven already,” he compliments. “Keep breathing, we’re getting there.” 

Tears prick in your eyes because the stretch is new, and beautiful, and overwhelming. That soft, focused look in his eyes only adds fuel to the fire because pleasure and eagerness burn just beneath. You never realized how harrowing it was to be wanted so intensely. For the longest time, you wondered if it was possible for someone to feel such a way about you, and here Joel was in the flesh. 

“Know there’s a lot of me,” he grits. “Doing so well…”

When he bottoms out, both of you sigh in relief. It feels like you’re floating even though you’re pinned beneath his strong frame. Warmth radiates from his skin. 

“Oh—god,” you breathe. 

Joel chuckles as he eases out of you, “Close.” He thumbs a circle around your clit. 

The initial pressure subsides as Joel begins to thrust, biceps flexing as he shudders with pleasure. He takes it slow and steady, each drag more intoxicating than the last. His reach deepens as he lowers himself onto his forearms and you hook your ankles around the backs of his thighs. Stroke after stroke, he hits that spongy spot within you just right. Joel can hardly believe how snug and warm you are. 

“You’re in trouble,” he rasps. 

“W-why?” you whimper. 

“I’m never gonna get my fill of this.” 

You paw at his biceps and shoulders, not exactly sure how or where to touch him to ground yourself. Scratching your nails down his back earns a satisfied growl, and when you dig your fingernails into the meat of his backside, he gives a pointed thrust that makes you bite back a cry. 

“Lemme hear those pretty sounds, mouse.” 

You’re unable to help the next breathy moan that escapes you. 

“You’re perfect,” The moment has you so blinded that’s all you can see him as—his cock included. 

It’s a broken confession.

Joel dots a few lazy kisses over the apple of your cheek, then touches his forehead to yours. It’s almost too much—his wrecked grunts, the graze of his chest, the sound of skin meeting skin where he stretches open the most tender part of you. 

It is too much.

“I’m gonna—” your breath catches in your throat. “Joel.” 

“Let go for me, babygirl,” he coaxes. “Lemme have it.” 

The tension embedded within you winds undone in an instant. Pleasure radiates as your walls contract around him in strong, rhythmic pulses. In another life, where he wasn’t completely gone and taken by you, Joel would’ve been able to hold out. But he’s only a man. 

A gasp escapes you as he gives one last deep thrust. His balls draw up as the insistent tug low in his gut drives him to spill into the condom, stomach tensing with each relentless spurt. You rub his back as he rides it out with a shudder. You’re achy, but more than content to shiver through the aftershocks. The two of you stay like that for a while, basking in each other’s closeness, the haze. Still joined as one. 

Something in the air shifts, the gravity of it all finally pressing in. 

Joel looks spent and satiated as he lifts up to meet your gaze. “You okay?” he wipes the tear off your cheek. The way you look at him suggests you’re expecting him to answer for you. As if you’ll be whatever he says. 

“You’re okay,” Joel decides, kissing your forehead. 

You weakly cup his cheek and guide him to kiss you. 

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips. 

Your chest flutters. “I love you too.” 

All Joel can think about as he reluctantly slips out of your heat is that he’s glad you stayed. When he begins to soothingly massage your thighs, you’re almost certain you’ll never want to leave again. 

-

Thank you so much for reading! Please know that you’re feedback means the world to me. I love reading your thoughts and it makes writing for you guys all the more worth it. Likes, comments, and reblogs greatly appreciated. ♡

JOEL MASTERLIST 

ALL MASTERLISTS

[yanderenightmare]

jujutsu kaisen- which yanderes are really scary? i love the one you did about bnha, like which ones are just show, and which ones are really dangerous ones!! 💘

Yandere JJK

♡ FEAT: Nanami, Gojo, Geto, Sukuna, Itadori

♡ TW: NSFW, noncon, yandere, kidnapped reader, pet-play, degradation, caging, punishments, manipulation, forced submission, other stuff...

♡ FEM reader

♡ Kento Nanami

He’s scary because he’s so strict. 

He’s got house rules and expects you to follow them—no exceptions. Oh, and when you fail to do that? He expects you to take your punishment without any fuss.

“You know what you did wrong, baby. Be a good girl now and make it right, and I’ll forgive you.”

Yeah… you’ve yet to learn how to do that…

Stupid as you know it is, you always try to run—and it always makes it worse.

Your ass stings, smacked raw after three dozen hits. You sit with it on your heels, kneeling before the man who dealt the blows. That would have been the end of it if only you’d managed to take it properly—you could have been done. But now here you are, tears on your face, hiccups still raw in your throat, as he fastens the collar around it.

He doesn’t take kindly to you when you try to avoid responsibility. Accepting your punishments is one of those responsibilities.

It’s about humility, knowing when you’re wrong, and a matter of integrity to accept the consequences. And as Kento makes clear, a good girl should have both. And if you have neither, well, then you don’t deserve to be treated like a good girl, now, do you?

And that's a real shame. You see, because good girls get to eat their dinner at the table. They have the right to take warm showers, can sleep in the bed, and wear clothes. They’re even allowed to have hobbies after they’re done with all their chores. 

But bad girls, however? They don’t get any of that. 

Because a bad girl is no different from an animal. Bad girls get their dinner in a bowl on the floor, are hosed down in the tub, sleep and stay in their cage whenever their master’s out, and walk around on all fours naked with a collar around their throat until they’ve proven themselves worthy of being a good girl again.

And how does she do that?

Why, by obeying and serving her master, of course.

And so, even a whole week later, you're still stuck sucking his cock through the thin black metal piping of your cage, just like a glory hole.

His fingers interlock with the bars above you, holding them tight enough to make his knuckles whiten, rattling the cage somewhat each time he rocks back and forth.

He doesn’t talk to you much when you’re in this state. Small talk and sweet nothings are reserved for good girls. While bad girls, naturally, only deserve commands like sit, open up, tongue out, suck. 

“Turn around.”

Your breath is erratic, throat abused, voice weak, saying, “Yes, master.”

You’re not allowed to call him by his name, only when you’re back to being his good girl. For now, you’re not his pretty wife; you’re just a caged critter he’s training, and as such, you’ll refer to him appropriately with the proper title.

You honestly don’t know which is worse sometimes, acting like his ever-sweet housewife or this, this fucked up pet-play.

You twist around on all fours in the small cage—face down, ass in the air, as you press your cunt up against the cool metal bars and await getting fucked just like an actual animal.

He’s laid out a baby pink dress on the bed, all frills and ruffles like the things dolls wear—a clear sign. This is the last day of your probation—if you manage to pass the test, that is—meaning, be a good pet and take the pounding.

The cage rattles even more after he drives himself inside and sets his tempo.

It’s hard maintaining the position, painful, but you hold it as good as can—keeping your cunt pressed flush against the wire so hard the fat of your ass and thighs squeeze through, leaving cross-hatched markings on the skin, staying there for every harsh thrust until he's filling you up with his load.

When he’s done, he crouches down, asking sternly if you’re going to be his good girl from now on. And you, despite knowing how the cycle repeats, nod your head, desperately wanting out of the cage even if it means wearing whatever he dresses you in and doing whatever he tells you until the next time he deems you’re due for a demotion.

♡ Satoru Gojo

Gojo’s scary for the opposite reason from Nanami.

Where Nanami is structured, Gojo is random. You never know what to expect or when his switch is about to flip or go apeshit.

Most days, he’ll act like your boyfriend and treat you like his girlfriend. Ignoring you when you don’t play along. He just boops your nose and calls you his grumpy little tsundere with a fond smile on his lips.

He’ll be so lax with you then, allowing you to call him names and fight him. Pulling you to him and spinning you about, doing whatever he wants, treating you like a doll. Laughing at your protests as if they’re all just jokes.

Other days, he’ll be much the same, but even more lax, so lax that he might even actually listen to you, throwing his hands up in surrender, saying “okay, okay” when you growl at him not to touch you.

He’ll act, somehow, somewhat normal on those days as if the two of you just happen to be living with each other. He won’t insist on you being his girlfriend or him being your boyfriend, won’t force you to be lovey-dovey, and won’t force his own lovy-dovey-ness onto you.

On those days, he actually seems to accept that you don’t love him, and you can pretend he’s just this roommate you don’t like. You'd call it his sane days. But at the same time, you think you could even stab him, and he wouldn’t care. So, it's more like his too-tired-to-care-or-something days.

Then there's his demon days.

On those, you don’t get away with anything without him shoving it in your face how little anything you do matters.

He’ll be nasty about it, too. Grinning at your struggle as he pins your wrists above your head and holds them there without budging, making it painstakingly clear that no matter how much strength you put behind it, it’s nothing to him. 

He might even lift you by his hold, haul you off the ground, up onto your tippy-toes, and further, until you’re no longer touching the floor, have you hanging there, like he’s nailed you to the wall.

At those times, it’s as if all he wants to do is make you squirm.

Cupping your cunt in his other hand, he tickles the slit before filling you with two of his ever-long fingers. Breath hitting your cheek and neck, where he whispers filthy teasings in your ear, his sharp blue eyes beholding you with a glint and a smirk on his lips.

He strives to make you cum, but it’s not about your pleasure—it’s about proving a point. The point being, everything in your body surrenders to him, so you should give it up already and accept it.

And still, he doesn’t really tell you to stop fighting—he just mocks you with false coos, “All I want is to see the look on this cute face when I make you cum. Come on, show it to me. We both know you’re gonna, so just give it up already, yeah?”

He only snickers when your cunt flutters around his fingers, eagerly watching you try denying it by shaking your head and biting your lips from squealing.

“That’s it. So fucking cute. And it’s all fucking mine.”

Sadistic glee is painted on his face as he furthers your humiliation by treading your sensitive walls over his cock next. Up against the wall, your thighs around his torso, his mouth on your neck with tongue and teeth.

No matter how you push on his shoulders and chest, he doesn’t budge—just continues to have his way.

You never know which mood you’re waking up to. Delusional boyfriend Satoru, strange roommate Satoru, or this, sadistic Satoru, or someone completely different, someone who’s in all matters of likelihood way worse like that time he cam home covered head to toe in blood and still insisted on fucking you then and there.

♡ Suguru Geto

You started off as a simple temple follower before Geto became the new head priest. You’d been brought into it by your parents from birth. They’d both tried leaving when the organization changed. It would have cost them their lives if they hadn’t had you to offer instead.

And so you become one of his personal servants.

It wasn’t so bad in the beginning, to be honest. You had other maids to find solace and solidarity in. It was only when he took closer notice of you that you started feeling the urge to run away.

Geto is an understanding and patient person. And so he allowed you many liberties, such as letting you talk your way out of coming to his chambers when he requests you, knowing it’s only a matter of time before you run out of excuses.

It’s only when you abuse those liberties that he deems it fit to punish you. When you, just like your foolish parents, take his loose reins as an opportunity to run away.

Naturally, you don't make it far. You should have learned from your parents' mistakes. But, where he was more than happy to stain his pristine monks' robes with their blood, he doesn’t lay a hand on you.

No…

He leaves that to them. 

The many monsters he summons—all slimy, bulky, bumpy ones that drool over your pretty skin as they tear your clothes off and start groping you, rearing your every orifice with something gross.

You scream in the beginning. Then you sob. Then you go silent, whole body limp and twitching, eyes miles away.

He calls them all off when you’re spent—when you don’t even have the strength left to lift a finger, and all you do is lie there where they’ve left you, in a heap of your own undoing.

He doesn’t even say anything. He just snaps his fingers, ordering some other servants to come and collect you.

Lying on the floor, your vision fades in and out as you watch his long robe drag along the floor, steadily moving away from you until disappearing.

The other servants bathe you and dress you, erasing all traces except for those left on the inside.

You don’t see him until later. And this time, the very sight of him makes you shiver.

He asks you which you prefer: how you can choose to behave and be treated like his favorite, or pull a stunt again and be reduced to a plaything.

And this time, it’ll be forever—he doesn’t do third chances.

Your hair’s still damp, and you're wrapped in the fluffiest of all robes, and still, you feel raw and cold and dirty beyond relief as you nod your head and whimper out how you’ll behave.

He smiles then. That kind smile he uses with those sorry people who come to the temple to have their problems fixed—the one where his eyes will crease, and his lips will stretch just far enough to curl at the edges and betray him. 

This time, when he touches you, you accept it by lying still and spreading your legs. 

Vowing to both him and yourself that you’ll never be so dumb as to go against him ever again.

♡ Sukuna

You don’t dare fight him at the start, nor do you run. You don’t even dare think about it.

Tales of the king of curses made you more than willing to bend over backward if it meant staying alive. And somehow, it’s enough to get in his good graces. 

It’s not without sacrifice, of course, being his concubine. He’s not the easiest to please. But watching the way he cuts others into pieces before setting those pieces ablaze, you figure catering to the monster is better than being his prey.

You might be his favorite for now, but you know you’re not any special. That’s to say, you don’t think he’d spare you if you tried running away. In fact, you’re quite sure he’d set his domain off and level everything within a mile’s radius.

Again, not because you’re anything special to him, just out of principle. 

You’ve seen him do worse for less. In the end, all that really matters to him is that his word is law, and if anyone goes against it, they pay the hefty toll of death by utter annihilation.

You know this, and yet as the months go by and you grow more comfortable by the day, you do end up becoming a little brazen. A little naughty. A little too naughty for your own good, maybe... Walking about in expensive silk and jewels, wicked smiles, and coy catlike eyes, playing games with the king of curses and deadly poisons as if you’ve become immune.

“What would you do without me, huh?” you drawl, lying on top of his naked chest, softly lulled by the rise and fall of his breathing while listening to his heartbeat betray the fact that he is, in fact, still somewhat human.

The two of you had just finished up, now lying sweaty in the afterglow. He’s got an arm propped up behind him against the headboard. The other three he keeps on you, petting your skin. Cuddling.

He quirks his brow down at you but neither of his faces react much, regarding you like the silly creature you are and talking to you just so,  “Going somewhere, are you?”

You trace the black ink on his chest. “Oh, you never know... One of these days, I might just run away. Never to be seen again. Leave you here with your dick in your hand.” Your finger reaches the apex of his chest, giving it a tap while you look back up at him, a sly smirk on your lips. “Or, well… dicks in your hands.”

His eyes, all four, squint while eyeing you.

“Are you now…”

There’s a sudden rush, you don’t know where you are for a second or what’s happened. Getting your bearings, you realize you’ve been spun on your back, still in bed, though now lying beneath him.

He seems much bigger this way, terribly big, caging you with his four arms.

“I was…” Your voice comes out as a whimper this time, stripped of all things insolent, now weak and soaked in building fear. “I was just… joking. I didn’t mean anything by it… I–”

“You didn’t mean anything by it, huh?” he cuts you off, leaning down until his head’s next to yours, breaths warm and heavy, hitting your neck and chest.

You squeeze your eyes shut, frozen in place, thinking his teeth are next, knowing he’s no stranger to the taste of meat, knowing he has the palate for it.

His mouth brushes your throat. His teeth follow shortly, gracing your jugular.

But, right before he’s about to puncture your skin comes a chuckle instead, then a whisper, “I’m just fucking with you, brat.” 

The bite still comes, but it's barely hard enough to be called that. Just enough to make a bruise, but nothing you’re not used to.

Still, having your life flash before your eyes is not something you recover from quickly, keeping your breath caught in your throat, just beneath the spit and sting left there by him, leaving you mute.

He, however, is feeling uncharacteristically chatty.

“Not that it would matter either way…” He draws back with a smile, leering down at you with an amused expression written plainly across both his faces, stroking your cheek with his thumb, making your breath stay stuck. “You wouldn’t even be able to leave this room, let alone this temple, without me knowing about it.”

His lower arms lift your thighs and spread them. You only now realize he’s hard again.

“But, to humor your question, if you ever dared leave me…” His grip tightens, his black nails sinking into the doughy flesh. “Well, I’d simply haf’to bring you back, now wouldn’t I?”

His grip seizes, turning gentle again. And your brows furrow, needing to blink.

That’s a little boring, you almost say, only to realize you’re able to breathe again. “You wouldn’t punish me?”

He smiles warmly, admiring the confused pout on your face while rubbing soothing circles over the moondents he left on the insides of your thighs.

“Nah…”

His softness is a little offputting, and so still makes you shiver as one of his upper hands slips down between you and starts playing with you all leisurely.

You only barely get the question out, “Why not?”

He hums, entering you with his fingers, feeling the silky slick left there from before, something proud written on his face. His voice is something nearly unrecognizable with what he says next, though, you suppose, he’d already been acting unlike himself. “If you rip just one petal off a flower, it loses all its beauty.” 

Your breath stops short again, this time for a different reason.

He thumbs your cheek, then curls his digits inside you, making you keen. 

He smiles in return, then says, “And I prefer you just the way you are.”

And it might just be the scariest thing to ever leave the tip of his tattooed tongue. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to breathe again.

“Don’t get me wrong, though, pretty flower,” he continues with a grin, feeling your walls clench around him. “The thing is, no matter where you go, no matter how far, and no matter how well you hide. I’d still find you.”

His hand then goes from your cheek to thumbing your chin—still just as deceptively softly, whispering just so, “Even if I’d haf’to obliterate every last person on earth to get to you. It wouldn’t matter.”

You swallow thickly at that, feeling his lips ghost yours, feeling some of that brazenness return for some reason, making you whisper back at him. “You’re crazy.”

He hums out a chuckle again. “Mh, to push me that far… I’d say you’re the crazy one.”

♡ Yuji Itadori

He doesn’t listen.

He’s like Gojo in that regard. He doesn’t take you seriously.

With his view of life and his knowledge of real horror, he doesn’t take anything seriously anymore.

His life is a waking nightmare, and you? You’re his sitcom.

You thought he was going to be gentle your first time together. And he was, sure, to some degree. He’d prepped you on his fingers and tongue first. Having taken his time with it, getting you puffy, wet, and hot to go. 

You’d been ready, feeling good, sitting on the bed, watching him undress, smiling and happy, biting your lip as he lifted his shirt off, revealing his chest and all those perfectly cut muscles of his. 

Everything was going well at the start. But that’s not to say he didn’t totally bulldoze you in the end...

His sweats were next, and you felt your lower belly do somersaults, needing him like you’d never needed anything else.

But then, when he dropped his boxers, and you finally saw the sheer size of him, you could only reel back in silent shock.

Eyes round and glossy in the dim light, switching between looking up at him and it as if your stare alone could keep it at arm’s length. 

You swallowed thickly, trying to ease the sudden pang of anxiety, making your heart shudder in your chest. But it was to no use. When he took a step toward you, you couldn’t help but bring your knees up to your chin, as if on instinct, locking your thighs together before shaking your head.

“That’s not gonna fit—I was wrong, I’m not ready.”

To which he only blatantly disregarded with a smile, “Pff, don’t worry.” Shaking his head right back at you with a chuckle, then insisting with casual neglect, “It’ll fit.”

Still, watching him climb after you on the bed, you shuffled backward away from him and the threat pointing right at you, repeating, “No, I’m serious, I’m not ready.”

“Baby, relax,” he drawled, stroking his rough hands up and down your thighs to comfort you. “Trust me, alright? I’m gonna make you feel real’ good,” he promised with a wink, hooking his beefy arms under your legs and, without further warning, parting them and pulling you closer, making your back hit the bed with a bounce.

The impact made you blink, and when your eyes opened again, you were all but face to face with it—the massive thing bobbing above your belly, struggling to carry its own weight, and even larger up close.

Honest to god, it must be the size of your forearm. No doubt, it’s going to tear you in two.

Your entire system goes into full alarm. And again, you repeat, now with urgency, “No, Yuji, really, that’s not gonna fit–”

This time, he just laughs—as if you’re only cracking a joke and the laugh track within his head is going nuts.

“You’re supposed to squeeze a baby through here,” he smiles, already pressing the tip against your wet entrance. “Compared to that, this’ll be nothing.”

♡ Toji, Mahito, Yuta, Naoya, & Megumi coming...

♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist ♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[sereia4skz]

Hii I was wondering if you could do a OT8 (it could be poly or individual your choice if you choose to write this😊) about how the reader still sleeps with a baby blanket, because I've never seen any write about it and I thought it would be cute, but anyway love your writing and keep up the good work! And have a nice day/night!😊

headcanons | baby blanket headcanons

pairing: ot8!straykids x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: n/a

word count: ~600

masterlist: A-Side (texts) | B-Side (written)

BANGCHAN 

★ Softest man alive. He notices it peeking out from under the covers and just smiles.

★ “Is that your baby blanket?” he asks, gently. When you shyly nod, he presses a kiss to your forehead and says, “That’s really cute.”

★ Lowkey protective of it, he’ll make sure it’s folded nicely or that you have it when you’re sad, never letting the boys touch it.

★ If you fall asleep without it, he’ll put it in your arms. Doesn’t say anything, just tucks you in with it.

★ Might even get a plush or mini version made as a keepsake.

LEEKNOW

★ Teases you. Relentlessly. “You want your blankie, baby?” with the smuggest grin ever.

★ But he secretly finds it precious. Like, he’ll never admit it outright but he’s obsessed.

★ If you’re having a bad day and he hands it to you without a word? That’s his love language.

★ If the blanket’s ever in danger (a cat tries to claim it), he’s on it instantly.

★ “That’s theirs. Get your own, Soonie.”

CHANGBIN

★ SCREAMS internally.

★ “WAIT you still sleep with a baby blanket?! That’s… oh my god that’s the cutest thing ever.”

★ Gets really sentimental about it. Wants to know the story, how long you’ve had it, what it smells like.

★ Might beg you to let him hold it one night.

★ 10/10 makes you feel normal and cherished about it. Never lets you feel embarrassed.

HYUNJIN

★ Is already emotional. Tears up when he finds out.

★ “That’s so pure. You're literally the softest person I've ever met.”

★ Strokes your hair while you cuddle with it. Will paint you holding the blanket.

★ Makes dramatic declarations like, “If anyone touches that blanket, they go through me.”

★ Gets insane cuteness aggression… Like the way he's super lovey dovey for Jeongin.

HAN 

★ Has a whole chaotic moment: “WAIT! you actually…like for real? still?? That’s so- you’re like a cartoon character! A soft one!!”

★ Ends up cuddling you and the blanket.

★ Gets super clingy about it. “No, you don’t need the blanket! You have me!” while literally wrapped around you like a koala.

★ Jisung also starts talking to the blanket like it’s alive. “Yo, Blankie, I know you were here first but I’m the boyfriend, okay?”

FELIX

★ Instantly melts. 

★ “That’s adorable, angel. I love that you still have it.”

★ He finds comfort in it too, might sneak it into his arms if you’re not using it, especially because he doesn't have his changbin body pillow anymore.

★ Offers to wash it by hand like it’s sacred. “Gotta keep Blankie happy and soft!”

★ Will absolutely whine until he gets his own cuddle blanket/plush.

SEUNGMIN

★ Tries to act unbothered and snappy. “Seriously? A baby blanket?”

★ But he secretly tucks it around your shoulders when you nap.

★ If you leave it behind somewhere, he goes back for it without telling you.

★ “You’d be insufferable if you lost this. I’m saving myself the headache.”

★ But if he’s having a bad day, you’ll find him snuggled up with Daengmo tucked in it.

I.N

★ Blushes. “That’s… actually really sweet.”

★ Starts joking that he’s jealous of the blanket. “So that’s who gets all the cuddles.”

★ Might try to start a rivalry with it. “If you had to pick between me and Blankie, who would it be?”

★ Ends up falling asleep with you both. The three of you become a bedtime trio.

★ Buys it a tiny stuffed animal companion as a joke but then gets super serious about it. “They’re bonded now. You can’t separate them.”

taglist: @diekleinesuesse @tillaboo @felixsonlyrealwife @geni-627 @skz8riley @lezleeferguson-120 @pixie-felix @headfirstfortoro @alnex05 @baby-stay92 @encoredesires @androgynouscrownorbit @channiesluvrclub @my-neurodivergent-world @chims-dimple @bookswillfindyouaway @stellasays45 @angel-writes-skz-here @m-325 @0sunshinecryptid0 @beal-o @hug4helios @oksullen @rileylovescats @dreamyfelixx @yxna-bliss @turtledove824 @enhacolor @skzz0213 @hannahlue @purplelady85 @velvetmoonlght @inishij @bangchanspineapple @straykids4lifeee @peskybirdysya @gnabsss @zayn-210 @wolfhallows4 @katsukis1wife @sammhisphere @bangchanspineapple @sunfk88 @sillyseob @rougegenshin @yaorzu-blog

[thatonegrimm]

Hi! First off, love the writing, awesome job. Second, I love the idea of The boys either being giant worrywarts over the reader having a basic human sickness like a migraine, a cold, etc. and either trying their best to help. I have a feeling that someone would absolutely only make it worse. 😂

Thank you.

Hi!! 🖤 Thank you so much — I’m so glad the writing’s resonating with you! And YES — they’d 100% overreact to even the most basic human illnesses like it’s a life-threatening curse, and at least one of them would try to “help” in a way that backfires hilariously.

🌙Saja Boys x Reader — Sick Day Shenanigans

You have a cold. Or a migraine. Or you’re just kind of gross and sweaty and need sleep. The Saja Boys react as expected: way too intensely.

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

🧿 Jinu

You said you had a migraine.

Jinu immediately pulled out a talisman.

You blinked as he rummaged through a worn cloth pouch. “What are you doing?”

“Checking for hexes.”

“It’s just a migraine—”

“There are demons who specifically attack the nervous system through aura fields.”

“...Or I’m just dehydrated.”

He ignored you, now whispering something in old Hanja under his breath.

You sighed and let him hover a glowing charm over your head. Honestly, it was kind of sweet. Until—POP.

The charm sparked, fizzled, and exploded in a puff of smoke.

The fire alarm screeched.

You groaned and shoved a pillow over your face. “Jinu!”

“I—okay—I used the wrong binding powder—wait, stay under the covers, I’ll fix it—”

Romance yelled from down the hall. “Are you summoning things again?!”

“No!” Jinu shouted back. “It was a healing charm!”

You wheezed, half from laughter, half from the migraine.

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

💪 Abby

You said you felt dizzy.

Abby immediately Googled it.

Now he was pacing with your water bottle, five pillows, a thermometer, and three open symptom checkers on his phone.

“You might have low blood sugar. Or inner ear fluid imbalance. Or—”

“Abby.”

“—a mild vitamin deficiency that could lead to muscle fatigue and nerve disorientation—”

“Abby.”

He stopped.

You raised an eyebrow from under your blanket. “I have a cold.”

He deflated slightly. “Okay. But if you stop breathing, I’m carrying you to the ER.”

You smiled.

“Deal.”

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

📚 Mystery

Mystery didn’t ask what kind of sick you were.

He just handed you a cup of tea, sat down, and pulled a book into his lap.

You sipped.

You gagged.

“What… what is this?”

“Boiled root. Bitter leaf. Honey.”

“That doesn’t narrow it down—what for?”

He shrugged. “Cleansing. Balance.”

“I have a cold, not a spiritual imbalance.”

He blinked once. “Same difference.”

You stared at the horror-mug in your hands.

But he was watching you like he really believed it would work.

So you took another sip.

For him.

Not for the tea.

Never for the tea.

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

💋 Romance

You were bundled in a hoodie, wrapped in two blankets, nose red and puffy. Tissues surrounded you like a sad moat. You hadn't brushed your hair in two days.

Romance walked in, took one look, and smiled.

“Wow.”

You groaned. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” he said, settling beside you on the bed, “you manage to look devastating even when you're falling apart.”

You rolled your eyes. “I look like a raccoon that lost a fight with a humidifier.”

“And yet here I am,” he said, resting his chin on his hand, “completely enchanted.”

You sniffled. “Do you ever stop flirting?”

His voice softened. “Not when you’re feeling ugly. That’s when I do it on purpose.”

You looked at him, eyes glassy from the cold, throat sore, heart full.

“…Thank you.”

He leaned in, brushed his fingers lightly across your cheek. “Always.”

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

🔥 Baby

When you told Baby you had a cold, his eyes lit up like you’d given him a side quest.

“Where is it?” he asked. “The cold. I’ll fight it.”

You blinked. “It’s a virus.”

“Where is it.”

“In my body.”

He stared. Then frowned. “That’s cheating.”

You laughed, which immediately turned into a cough. Baby scowled at the air like it had insulted you personally.

Then he got really quiet.

“…If I can’t burn it out,” he muttered, “can I at least hold you so it doesn’t spread?”

You blinked. “That’s not how colds work—”

But he was already under your blanket.

And weirdly? You did feel better.

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

M-List

[the-librarby]

HOME EARLY II

- SIMON RILEY (COD)

18+ MDNI

Simon knows what’s good for his wife before she does, which is why when he tells her to sit on it, she sits on it whether she likes it or not.

.･:★ I sat on this idea for too fucking long, work got in the way and derailed my thought process so, here it is, the final installation.

Part I

No one warned you how purely uncomfortable pregnancy was. Besides the noticeable shift in your belly swelling— the aches, pains, and amount of times you need to pee throughout the day is becoming unbearable. Your breasts feel sensitive to the point you’ve even banned Simon from touching them at times, something he mourns each day.

Everyday tasks are getting more difficult when you need to take frequent breaks from standing, thankfully your husband has picked up a lot of the slack without a word.

“I can’t believe you did this to me,” you moan from your seat at the dining table.

“I know, love,” Simon replies on autopilot as he cleans up the dishes, it’s not the first time you’ve blamed him.

“Can you go through the rest of this for me?” You plead.

“Would if I could, love,” he smiles, turning on the kitchen sink tap.

You clasp your hands over your swollen belly and cross your ankles over each other as you watch him clean, “You would?” You muse, “Fat tits and all?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, “Part of the package, so yes, tits and all.”

A sigh leaves your lips as you sink deeper into your chair, the wooden back is digging uncomfortably into your spine but you’re too lazy to move. The kitchen is peaceful as you watch Simon scrub at the dishes you promised to get to later, the soap seems to cling to his forearms not wanting to let go, his arms looked good in that old t-shirt of his which is more more tighter on him than when you wear it around the house. Did washing the dishes make him more attractive? You squinted in thought, must be pregnancy brain making your hormones run haywire.

With an exhaustive huff you stand to your feet and walk over to the sink, grabbing the hanging tea towel off the over door on your way. Simon watches you curiously and shakes his head, but you grab a plate off the drying rack before he can dismiss you.

“I’ve got it,” you assure, “Not bedridden Si, I can move around,”

“Shouldn’t have to move around,” he mutters, hauling another dish out of the sink and onto the rack, “S’what I’m here for.”

You grin as you out the plate back in its cabinet above you. Simon was insistent that you shouldn’t have to lift a finger, if it weren’t endearing to hear how much he cared about your wellbeing, you would have lost your mind by now. You step up behind him and snake your arms in between his and drag them up his chest until both hands settle around his pecs, squeezing them softly between your fingers.

“Keep talking like that and you’re gonna have to take responsibility,” you mumble coyly, pressing against him as much as your body will allow. You reach up and press a kiss against the back of his neck.

You can’t see it but you can hear the smirk in his amused tone as he looks over his shoulder, “You making a move on me, sweetheart?”

You laugh at how bluntly he called your game, reaching up on your tiptoes to kiss his jaw, “Is it working for you?”

He chuckles and looks away, reaching to turn off the tap, “You’re lucky we’re already married,”

You scoff, offended by his insult, “Are you saying my charms are weaker now?”

“I’m saying,” he dries his hands before turning around to face you, inches apart and separated only by your protruding belly, “You don’t have to put on an act to have me,”

“Putting in effort isn’t an act, Simon,” you reply, holding onto his arms as he reaches out to caress your sides, “Are you saying you wouldn’t put on an act for me if you wanted to get in my pants?”

He raises an eyebrow, “Get in your pants?” He repeats, “What am I, a teenager?”

You slap his arm, “You know what I mean,”

He sighs, “What are you really asking? I’d always put in effort for you,” he squeezes your hip softly, “You’re my wife,”

The split second pause you take to respond is enough to make him worry. He curls his finger and uses the knuckle to knock your chin upwards until you’re looking at him, “What’s wrong?”

“Am I a chore to you?” You blurt out, diverting your attention down to the details of his t-shirt. It’s blue colour has darkened patches from the water that splashed onto him while cleaning, “You’ve picked up so much slack since this pregnancy…”

His hands are still cradling your hips, thumb gently rubbing circles in reassurance while you collect your thoughts. You take a deep breath and sigh, “I don’t want sex to be another responsibility you feel like you have to take on,”

He sighs roughly, “Look at me,” you peek up at him through your eyelashes, his gaze leaves no room for misinterpretation, “When have I ever acted like fucking you is a chore?”

You bite your lip and remain silent, in the back of your mind you can rationalise you’re just being sensitive but the paranoia eats away at you.

He crouches down until he meets your lowered gaze, “Do you realise how hard it has been for me to hold back?”

You stare at him through parted lips, the sound of a pin dropping could be heard through the silence of the kitchen. Simon doesn’t elaborate just to ensure you get it through your thick head that he finds you incredibly desirable— even more so now with how your body is filling out, a selfish part of him wants to keep you pregnant forever if it means he gets to take care of you like this.

Before pregnancy you were very independent, sure you loved showering him in affection and were a doting partner, but nothing compares to how dependent you are on him now. The sheer need and reliance you have on your husband to support you through this curls in his gut and feeds his self-assurance.

Gradually, his hands trail up your sides until the sides of his thumbs support the outline of your breasts. You breathe in sharply at the immediate pricks of sensitivity shoot through your chest at the slight pressure.

Simon pauses instantly, leaving his fingers wrapped around the side of your ribs and chest, "I have watched these shirts of yours get impossibly tighter each day," he comments calmly, "And I have kept my hands to myself,” his eyes catch yours staring,” Because you want me to,”

“So it’s my fault?” You shoot back defensively, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. It was stupid to bring this up, and you just want to end it now before you ask something else that you’ll regret the answer to.

“Stop deflecting,” he grunts, tugging you closer until he secures his arms around your waist, giving you nothing to do other than hold his arms to keep yourself upright. Even with no space between the two of you, you still try to lean as far out as you can in defiance.

“I didn’t say it was your fault,” he continues, “Are you listening to me?”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest when his arms won’t give way, “I’ve heard enough,” you mumble, pointedly looking away, “I’m a terrible wife because I won’t let you touch me,”

“Now you’re just talking bullshit,” he calls frankly, “Come with me.”

He takes your hand in his and walks down past the living room straight into the bedroom. It’s clean and taken care of just like the rest of the house under your husband’s control. You try not to dwell on the thoughts of uselessness festering in your mind as Simon seats himself onto the edge of the bed, taking you down with him by gently guiding you into straddling his lap.

A hand rests on your belly protectively as you shift to get comfortable—it’s getting increasingly harder to sit like this as you swell— Simon waits patiently for you to still, his eyes watching cautiously in case you lose balance.

In the safety of the bedroom Simon watches as your shoulders slowly unwind. It’s silent as he rubs his hands up and down your forearms which hang loosely in your lap, eyes refusing to meet each other as understanding tries to piece itself together.

“You know I love you, right?”

The earnestly makes your heart ache and clench your eyes shut. You moan pitifully and knock your forehead against his shoulder, “Don’t say that,”

Simon frowns and tries to look down at you but you stay stubbornly glued to him, “Don’t say I love you?”

You moan again and shake your head, digging further into his shoulder. He sits there silently with a bemused smile on his face, he knows you’re finding it hard to stay upset with him—you could never stay mad for that long. So he waits another minute letting you sit in the last vestiges of your simmered annoyance before speaking again.

“Can I show you then?” He asks, wondering.

You raise your head just to look at him questioningly, “Show me what? That you love me?”

He nods at your clarification, smug smile on his face. It cracks an unwillingly upward tug of your lips, “And you say my lines are weak,”

He shrugs, “You know my actions speak louder than my words love, been that way since day one,”

You hum in agreeance, curious where his mind is leading, “Go on then.”

Simon reclines back until he’s laying flat on the mattress, his legs are still propped up in order to keep you seated on his lap but he makes no further move other than gesturing you to crawl forward with the curl on his fingers.

You crawl forward until you’re seated on his lower stomach but he keeps urging you to move. Cautiously you stop once you reach high on his chest, your knees are knocking into his armpits and forcing you to either stop or readjust—you choose to stop because this is getting ridiculous, you have no idea what he’s trying to communicate, he just keeps gesturing you to move forward.

“What do you want?” You finally ask, looking down at him with hands perched flat against the mattress either side of his head for balance.

His hands reach out to wrap around your outer thighs, from this position he has a full view of the indecent way your leggings crease against your crotch. He inches his thumb forward until it rubs across the stitched seam, causing your breath to hitch, the soft sensation feels so nice you would have missed what he said if you weren’t crouched so close to his face.

“Want you to sit on it,” he demands, gazing up at you.

You immediately try to shuffle away, shaking your head, “No way, Simon,” you reply, “I thought I was heavy before pregnancy, and I am much more heavy now, I’m not going to sit anywhere—”

He rolls his eyes, tuning out your rant in favour of ripping a hole until he has a good view of your underwear. You gasp and lift one hand to slap his away, “Fucking—stop! I’m not doing this.” your complaints fall on deaf ears as he brute forces his arms under your thighs, grabbing you by your rear and shoving you up until you’ve got no other choice but to hover over his face.

Your arms wobble as you kneel over him, for a moment you think you can stay like this out of spite until he gets this ridiculous idea out of his head, but it hard to hold yourself up and he knows it. He gazes up at you with a lazy smirk, perfectly content and waiting below you— you’ll have to come down at some point. Is what he’s thinking.

“You want this to not feel like a chore?” He asks, reminding you of your previous statement, “Then let me do what I want,”

You whine, “Does it have to be like this?” You ask pitifully, already turned on despite your embarrassment, “I will squash you Simon, and not in a sexy way,”

He pats your ass playfully with one hand while the other reaches over for your underwear, “Countin’ on it sweetheart.” he rumbles, hooking his thumb in and pulling the dampening fabric to the side.

Anxiously you lower yourself until you can feel the warmth of his breath against your folds, his nose just nudges the edge of your mound and it’s enough to set your thighs on fire. The burn of straining yourself makes you tense up but you refuse to lower yourself any further.

The first probe of your husband’s tongue against your clit has your thighs closing in with a soft curse. Simon rests one hand flat against your ass while the other keeps your panties hooked aside as he flattens his tongue in a wide swipe upwards. It feels good at this angle, you hate to admit it because you’re still feeling reservations about your weight, but Simon has completely shut off—eyes closed and grip tensing as he gets reacquainted with your sweet spots. It had been so long since he was able to take his time and just map you out.

The soft sounds filter out like a leaking tap, once you start you can’t stop. Your hips twitch forward minutely when his tongue flicks at just right angle, causing you to remember how your thighs are starting to get sore from tensing so much. When you look down, Simon is already gazing up at you through hooded eyes, his hair is swept off his forehead and looking like he’d rather be nowhere else with your thighs closing in around his head.

“Fucks sake,” you huff, “I’m too pregnant for this,”

Simon hums beneath you before tilting his chin up so you can hear him, “‘cause yer’ bein’ a fuckin’ idiot,” he scoffs, momentarily letting your underwear snap back in place as he lets go.

You bite the inside of your cheek hard, trying to hold your tongue but you can’t, “You try feeling like this Simon,” you snap, “Honestly, I don’t care how strong you think you are, breaking your jaw does not sound the least bit sexy to me—stop looking at me like that and stop seriously considering it!”

You can feel the way he chuckles with the rise and fall of his chest, “It would be an honour to be sent to emergency with an unhinged jaw because my pregnant wife had the ride of ‘er life,”

You shake your head with a frown, “This is not a joke, I’m genuinely worried,” your complaint bounces off Simon’s head as he tugs your panties to the side again. But you continue your rant nonetheless, “How would I even begin to explain that? You can’t lie to the paramedics Si, I would have to give details, you can’t do this to me.”

When he’s had enough of your stalling, he takes matters into his own hands and forcibly seats you by tugging you flush against his mouth. Your thighs spread to accomodate the drop, and his anchored grip on your thighs drives your knees down into the mattress.

“Wait,” you pant, wriggling desperately in his grip, “Wait—Simon, stop, I’ll hurt—” his lips circle around your clit and suck softly, effectively cutting off the rest of your sentence.

“Fuck,” you sigh, tilting your head back and letting your thighs fall further apart so you can press even closer, “You play fucking dirty.”

Simon pats your ass affectionately at your comment and flattens his tongue once again, drawing wide from hole to clit. Your thighs are tingling from finally having your weight shifted, and his tongue moves with skilled efforts as he circles and sucks against your clit until you’re seeing stars. When that pleasured numbness starts to build your hips twitch forwards to chase it, you hold your breath and wait for some kind of pained groan but when it doesn’t come you sigh in relief.

With renewed confidence—and reckless abandonment at the onslaught of pleasure—you press your palm against your husband’s forehead and grip his hair hard as you drive your hips back and forth against his mouth until he settles against that one spot that has you moaning.

He lets his jaw go slack as you take control, riding against his tongue and grinding down against his nose until his mouth covered in your slickness. When your thrusts become more frantic he takes ahold of your ass and sucks hard against your clit until your sobbing and clenching your thighs around his head, shoving his head closer by your grip as you ride out the trembling pleasure.

You’re panting above him, boneless in your after glow and momentarily forgetting where—or who, you’re sitting on. When your thoughts decide to organise themselves you quickly dislodge yourself from Simon’s mouth and sit back on his chest. He takes in large gulps of air, self satisfied and glowing himself as he lets his arms fall back against the mattress like he’s the one who just came.

You purse your lips together at the wetness you’ve left behind on his lower face, slightly mortified about how you took advantage in the end, but Simon is just silently glad you finished before he managed to come in his shorts.

He lifts a hand and cups his own jaw, opening and closing it slightly as he feels around, “Think it’s intact,” he notes, “Wasn’t sure in the end with the way you were ridin’ me like a horse,”

You huff and slap his shoulder, “You were fucking asking for it,”

He nods with a smirk, “That I was love.” He instantly concedes.

Gently you climb off him and lay down on your back, the air is cool on your inner thighs with the gaping hole in your leggings. Simon lays down for a moment longer, your trail your gaze down slowly until you see the tent in his shorts, satisfaction curls in your gut that he’s still rock hard—serves him right for not listening to your anxieties. You watch him lazily as he rises, he kneels in front of you and presses his hands against your knees which are propped up. You can feel the outline of his cock against your shin as he looks down at you smugly.

“Worth it?” He asks.

You lift your foot and stroke it up and down his thigh, “Well worth it, thank you.”

He hums, leaning forward to kiss you softly. It’s a strain as his chest presses against your knees and pushes them against your stomach, but he’s utterly gentle in his descent and quick to lift himself back up before it becomes painful. Wordlessly he hooks his fingers beneath the waistband of your leggings and underwear, pulling them off in one go and letting them fall out of sight.

You’re about to warn him that you can’t go another round as he pulls his shorts beneath his balls, cock slapping against his abdomen as his shirt joins your pants on the floor. However, you shut up when instead of prying your legs apart he pushes them together, and slings your knees over his right shoulder.

“What are you—” he spits into his hand and gives his cock a stroke, you watch curiously as his arm pumps up and down before resuming to his holding place on your outer thigh.

His intentions start to clear when you feel his cock poke at the seam between your thighs until it breaks through. It’s a wet slide with his saliva as he leisurely pumps in and out, he grunts at the way your plush thighs envelop him, it won’t take him long to blow if he keeps thinking about the way you were riding him earlier.

“Give ‘em a squeeze love,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around your thighs and fucking into them more rigorously, you clench your thighs together as much as you can and watch enraptured by the way the head of his cock peaks through on each forward thrust.

“Feel nice?” You ask, breath punched out of you as his thighs slap against yours.

“Unbelievable,” he replies, “Wish I could keep you like this forever,”

You raise an eyebrow, “On my back or pregnant?”

He huffs, “Fuckin’ both,” he grunts, looking down at you from over the bridge of his nose, “I’d invent new ways to fuck you if it meant you’d stay like this.”

You reach down for the hem of your shirt and awkwardly hike it over your head, Simon pauses so you can take it off fully but quickly resumes once it’s gone. His eyes are glued to your tits as they bounce with each thrust, your nipples are pointed and sensitive, he knows this but reaches down to pinch one anyway.

You twist and arch your back at the overwhelming tingling that erupts underneath his fingertips, gritting your teeth as you bare your way through it. Simon watches, captivated by the newfound sensitivity his touch brings, he could sit for hours playing with your tits just to see how much he could make you squirm if you’d let him.

But he eases off eventually, giving you momentary relief as he wraps his arms around your thighs again as he thrusts forward. Your thighs are becoming more slimy with the way he drips between them, you can’t help but throb as you watch him slowly unwind and get closer to the edge.

“Could get used to this,” you sigh, gently taking hold of your own chest and lightly rubbing your nipples with your forefingers, “I’d stay pregnant if it meant never lifting a finger again,”

Simon zones in on the way your fingers massage your tits, it makes his cock twitch and leak even more, “Mm never,” he agrees, “I’d do it all,”

You smile coyly, “Such a good husband,” you coo, using your thumbs to pinch your nipples, “Bet you’d let me use that cock like a toy, huh? All for your wife, right?”

He groans and delivers a particularly hard thrust at your words, “Fuckin’ hell.” he grunts.

You cross your ankles over each other and squeeze your thighs harder, Simon exhales roughly and resorts to rutting between them desperately.

“C’mon baby,” you murmur, “Need you to come now, come on.”

Simon drives one last thrust forward and stills. You can feel the wetness spill in between and trickle down to your cunt. He breathes deeply and rests his forehead against your legs as he collects himself.

“Worth it?” You ask, amused.

“You need to stop tempting me with idea of keeping you pregnant, it’s fucking with my head,” he groans.

You laugh and reach forward to stroke his forearm still wrapped around your legs, “But you have the best reactions to the thought of it,”

He looks at you through hooded eyes, “Your gonna eat your words when I take you up on it one day.”

You roll your eyes, happy to play with fire for now.

[kukinkrim]

I would find it hilarious to see Jinu's sister but with the huntr/x girls instead. And if possible?

oh no, my sister :(

huntr/x x jinu's sister!reader (separate)

themes: fluff, crack

note: you could find the saja boys version here. kind of short, sorry!

one thing jinu isn't proud of is that he could never, ever, say no to you.

you.

his not-by-blood little sister. the tiny, trembling slip of a soul he found in the unlikeliest of places: hell.

he still remembered it clearly.

among the wailing demons in the wreckage of hell, he had seen you. a child. not a soul tainted by greed or cruelty, but just a little girl, small and far too alive, curled up somewhere in the corner. jinu thought you didn’t belong there.

he crouched in front of you and said, “hey. you wanna come with me?”

you nodded, eyes wide and tear-soaked.

he took your hand. and from that moment on, jinu swore himself to the most sacred vow he had ever made: no harm would ever come to you. not in this life, not in any other.

and from that moment on as well, no matter how impossible, unreasonable, insane, or outright cursed your requests were—he could never say no to you.

even if it was asking for him to accept the fact that you were dating a demon hunter; the very people trained since birth to end beings like him. like you.

rumi.

he should’ve known something was up the moment you brought rumi home for dinner.

jinu knew her more than the other two of her members; you could even say they were close friends at some point, considering he was the first to find out her half-blood kin. she was quiet, composed, well-mannered—exactly the type of girl jinu could tolerate. she helped with dishes, complimented his cooking, and even make small talks here and there. completely normal.

but then he stepped out of the room to take a call and returned to find the two of you in the kitchen doorway, caught in what could only be described as an accidental almost-kiss.

rumi, bless her awkward soul, immediately panicked and backed away so fast she knocked over the trash can. “S-SORRY! I wasn’t—i mean i was! i wasn’t trying to—! oh god!”

you, red-faced and calmly sipping your drink, muttered, “we were literally just leaning in to check the... soup...?"

jinu stared at her. then at you.

rumi scrambled to pick up the trash can, hands shaking. "jinuI respect you very much and would never—unless she wanted to—and even then i’d—!”

“out,” he said, pointing to the door.

“yes, i definetly should! thank you for the dinner, see you tomorrow!” she yelped, bolting, leaving you no time to utter a single word in.

"... apologize to her tomorrow, brother."

"i refuse. go brush your teeth."

mira.

mira was harder to catch. she was quiet and respectful. she was just a chill person, really. jinu never thought he'd have to worry about her stealing his sister.

everyone assumed mira was the stoic one due to her rather laidback persona. the one with her emotions locked down tighter than a sealed jam.

bur for all her cool exterior, mira was, in reality, a hopeless, grade-a, certified simp.

jinu finds that out the hard way. one night, he came home early from a fan meeting and walked into the kitchen—only to find you sitting on the counter, legs dangling, while mira stood between them, feeding you rice with chopsticks.

“you’ve got rice on your lip,” she said gently.

you giggled. “can you get it for me?”

“oh my god,” jinu whispered like he’d just witnessed a ghost. you both turned towards him, munching on the food that mira continued to feed you with despite having been caught. your legs still swung around, still happy.

mira blinked at him. “oh, jinu. want some?”

jinu stared, brows furrowing as he glanced inbetwern you and mira. “no, i do not want your... can you please get off the counter?"

you took another bite. “she made me tofu shaped like tiny bats! isn’t she cute?”

jinu was clutching the doorframe in disbelief when you made no move to listen to his words. “you are literally being courted by someone trained to kill us.”

mira offered a piece of tofu to him anyway. “leace offering?”

“get. out.”

she only shrugs, "i don't want to."

zoey.

jinu first found out about zoey on an otherwise peaceful tuesday.

he had walked into the practice room after lunch—arms full of water bottles, towel draped around his neck—and froze at the sight before him. his arms immediately dropping everything he ess carrying.

you were sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes crinkled in delight, while zoey was braiding your hair. not just braiding—no, thid girl was sitting in your lap, practically curled around you like a content cat while humming to herself.

the water bottles fell with a thump, rolling away.

you turned around brightly. “oh! brother, you’re back!”

zoey waved with both hands, completely unbothered. “hi jinu~! i like your eyeliner today! very chic!”

he stared. blinked. took a step back like she might explode.

“are you—what are you doing?” he managed.

“playing hair salon,” zoey chirped, then leaned in to whisper loudly to you, “we're planning what her hair should be when we get married!"

jinu choked on air.

you just sighed. “brother, don’t be dramatic.”

[lilpaigeywbb]

☆✷ relief ✷☆

➜ summary: paige is on her period, so you have to make her feel better and loved.

➜ warnings: period sex (sorry if you're not into that), smut, fluff, fingering (p receiving), not proofread (duh)

➜ pairing: sub!paige bueckers x reader

➜ author's note: sorry this took so long!!!! idk what else to say other than enjoy :) might take me longer to get some other stuff out bc i have work all weekend so bear w me plsssss k bye

you found her curled up on the couch, her face in the pillows. paige had had a stressful day; between getting her period, one of her best friends and teammates being traded, and being named an all-star starter, she was breaking down. you could see the outline of a heating pad under her hoodie. she barely acknowledged you when you came back into your shared apartment.

“bad day?” you asked, gently moving to kneel beside her. paige nodded, nose scrunched. “cramps,” she mumbled. “lyss is gone, six-flags was chaotic, and everything hurts. ‘nd my body’s bein’ mean… but hey, at least i’m an all-star.”

you brushed some hair from her forehead, feeling the heat of the heating pad even through the fabric of her hoodie. “you are an all-star,” you said softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “and even all-stars are allowed to have really crappy days.” she smiled and hummed, grateful for your understanding, but then she pouted.

“i feel gross,” she murmured, huffing and hiding her face in the pillows of the couch. “you look beautiful,” you said without hesitation, letting your fingers trace gently over her arm. she smiled and blushed a bit. she always got soft and less dominant during this time. “lemme take care of you tonight, p,” you purred, your voice smooth in her ear.

paige knew that voice all too well. it was the one you used when you wanted sex, and it made her blush even more. “you don’t have to…” she whispered, the embarrassment and hesitation clear in her voice. “but i want to. and just because you’re on your period doesn’t mean i think you’re any less sexy.” she huffed and her blush grew. “fine.”

she wanted to take a bath first, so you obliged, turning the water on to the perfect temperature and adding her favorite scented bath salts. you helped her undress with the utmost care; it was almost overwhelming for her. she settled in the tub once she was fully naked, feeling the warm water soothe her body. she watched intently as you stripped, feeling something warm in her tummy, but she tried to ignore it.

you got in behind her, wrapping your arms around her middle and resting your hands on her abs. she sighed happily and leaned back against you with ease. she always felt safe and content when she was in your arms. your hands slid lower, just under her belly button, and as you caressed her skin, you could feel her squirm - just slightly - but enough to know that she liked what you were doing.

her head lolled back against your shoulder, her lips finding your jaw, and she began to leave sloppy kisses all over it. this was your sign that it was okay to continue, but just to be sure, you whispered in her ear, “can i make you feel better, baby?” she whined and nodded instantly.

it was rare for paige to ever let you touch her on her period, mostly because she found herself gross, but she was also embarrassed by how submissive she would get. for some reason, today was different. maybe she was just horny as hell, or maybe she got over her embarrassment.

your hand slid lower, just barely ghosting over her pussy but enough to make her squirm and whine out your name. her hand gripped your wrist, a desperate motion to let you know that she wanted needed more, so you gave it to her. 

your fingers slowly touched her clit, causing a soft moan to escape her lips, so you started moving your fingers in gentle yet calculated circles. you wanted to make sure she felt as good as possible, especially since she was so sensitive during this time. 

paige’s whines and moans grew more frequent, her hips shifting up and causing the water to lap around you two in the tub. “relax, baby… you’re gonna get water everywhere,” you murmured, moving your fingers faster against her. she moaned and huffed, “can’t help it… you feel too good. feel like i could cum alre-” you cut her off by stopping your movements, prompting her to whine pathetically loud.

“no!” she all but squealed, grabbing your hand and putting it back in place. she guided your movements, her hand over yours, making you rub her clit at just the right speed. you smiled and started nipping at her neck, allowing her to take control for now.

she sighed in relief and continued to let out mini-moans and whimpers, her hand gradually moving faster. “you want more?” you breathed in her ear, prompting her to nod and gasp, pushing your fingers into her and letting you take the lead again.

your fingers moved in and out of her, the only sounds being her heavy breathing, whines, and the bathwater lapping around you. she felt a sudden wave of embarrassment, grabbing your wrist to stop your movements, “don’t…”

you paused and obliged, stopping your movements. your eyebrows furrowed, and you kissed her cheek. “baby, what’s wrong?” she huffed and looked down at the water, almost bashfully. “i just- i feel gross. i’m probably just gonna bleed all over your fingers and-” “baby, stop.” you interjected, letting your hands caress her thighs. “you’re beautiful no matter what, okay? even if you’re bleeding. i don’t care. i still and always will think you’re perfect.”

she was a goner.

she pushed your fingers back in, whimpering and gasping. you started pounding her shit, knowing she didn’t need time to adjust. she was ready for you, and she made it known. her moans grew louder, her pussy tightened around you, and she was whispering your name like a prayer.

you loved her like this, all needy and vulnerable for you. it was a side she rarely showed. her lips found your jaw again, craning her neck so she could kiss your soft skin. as her bites got harder, you knew she was close. you sped up your fingers, curling them deep until you found that perfect spongy spot within her.

paige whined and her mouth hung open, so you caught it in a kiss, tongue sliding into her mouth with practiced ease. she whined again against your mouth, allowing you to swallow all of her beautiful sounds. your fingers sped up even more, her pussy clenching around them so tight until she came.

she looked like an angel, her head tilted back against your shoulder as the most beautiful noises came out of her mouth. your free hand caressed her side as your fingers slowed, her pussy fluttering around them as she came down from her high. you slowly removed them and held her closer. she sighed and leaned back against you, just wanting to be in this moment forever.

you helped her stand, draining the tub and turning on the shower. you wouldn’t let her move an inch, wanting to take care of her. you washed every inch of her milky skin until she was clean, massaging her head as you scrubbed her scalp, all while pressing soft kisses to her shoulders or neck. 

paige was quite pliable like this, just willing to do whatever you asked. you helped to dry her, get her in new clothes, and make sure she was comfy in bed. you offered to get her a heating pad and a drink, but she refused. “you’re all i need,” she murmured, snuggling into your chest. you held her close, combing your fingers through her wet, blonde strands. 

“i love you always,” you whispered, kissing her head. she smiled up at you and kissed your lips gently. “thank you. i love you too, always.” she paused before adding, “thank you for always making me feel beautiful.” your heart melted, and you kissed her again, this time longer. “you are beautiful. you deserve to know and be reminded on a daily basis.” and she was.

paige was always reminded that she was beautiful because of you, and what more could she ask for?