#but I bought the glasses and made the cocktails

[datamodel-of-disaster]

[digitaldiseas3]

DONT LET YOUR DREAMS BE DREAMS

[deepspacenova]

for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you

sylus invites you to a valentine's-themed event in Linkon City to help him acquire a a piece of jewelry he'd been eyeing... or does he?

➻➻ ABOUT | 2100 words. sylus x gn!reader.

➻➻ TAGS | mutual pining. daydreaming. valentine's day. inspired by hozier lyrics.

NOTE: Happy Valentine's Day from my corner of the world! xx This one's dedicated to my kindred spirit and fellow lover of hozier, mutual pining, and good ol', sick-to-your-stomach yearning @mythblossoms <333

The heart of Linkon City beat like a hummingbird’s wings, a light but invisible force that made the air feel like a kiss against your skin instead of a bite. Made the bustle of the city sound melodic rather than cacophonous. 

Funny, how one day in February could be a pair of rose-colored glasses — slipped on by even the most cynical, turning their surroundings soft and sweet, if only for a day.

You stepped out of the elevator, still debating why you’d agreed to this in the first place. 

Or, more accurately, why you hadn’t found a way to decline before Sylus effortlessly maneuvered you into being his date for tonight. 

The invitation had come in typical Sylus-fashion — a late-night call, his tone coy and coaxing as he relayed only the vaguest of details. He’d been hunting a rare piece of jewelry, his chance to acquire it would be at a Valentine’s Day event in Linkon City that required a plus-one. You were coming with him.

“And you can’t invite someone else because…?”

“You’re the only person I trust to have my back in Linkon, kitten.”

Matter-of-fact. Little fanfare. And yet…

“And… I wanted to see you in the dress I bought you — the one you still haven’t worn?”

And yet every ‘request’ of his was coated in a helpless, almost longing undertone. It dripped with yearning and tasted like honey. 

And you, in turn, became helpless too.

Now, hands hidden within the pockets of his trousers as he stood near the event’s entrance — a rooftop greenhouse decorated in a garden of pink and red — you proved yourself to be the worst person to have Sylus’ back, unable to tear your focus away from him long enough to notice anything else around you.

Despite being possibly the biggest outsider in the room he carried himself like a man who belonged, like a man who owned the room. And as his eyes trailed from your black-heeled feet to your pink-tinted cheeks like two ruby spotlights, he straightened, stepped forward, and wrapped your hand around his bicep like you were the person who owned him. 

“I was starting to think you’d stand me up.” His voice was low and warm and just a little teasing. 

"And throw you to all these bloodthirsty wolves?" You gestured at the mellow cocktail party in front of you and arched a brow. “The way you made it sound, if I didn’t show up, they’d be scraping you off the dance floor by midnight.”

He quirked those deliciously full, infuriatingly symmetrical lips. “It’s a good thing I have a beautiful and fierce date here to keep me in one piece.” His gaze dragged over you once more, slower this time. And though nothing outwardly changed about his expression, his voice infused more warmth into your cheeks when he murmured, “I knew it’d suit you.”

You fought against the pull of yourself, cleared your throat as every drop of you ached to surge toward its moon, toward him, and entered the room with as much poise and aloof confidence as you could pull together. 

The flowers surrounding them were bathed in the light of candelabra stationed around the room. The air was thick with the tang of their perfume and the sharp din of a room full of business-minded guests. These weren’t just wealthy socialites; these were people who knew the game — dealers, informants, fencers, smugglers. 

And they were all watching Sylus.

He’d played with this crowd long enough to know exactly how to charm, how to influence, how to make people feel like they were the most important person in the room while revealing nothing of himself. 

To them, he was an enigma—a man with resources and influence, yet no verifiable past. They would’ve loved nothing more than to pick him apart. Which meant that any crack in his carefully crafted exterior of ruthless corporate tycoon would draw their attention like blood in water.

He knew how to keep himself possessive but detached. Light touches at the small of a back, gaze wandering when he passed over a glass of wine, no part of his attention ever lingering too long.

But you were more than a crack. 

You were a fracture, an earthquake that threatened to shake him, split his chest open, and reveal the fragile, fluttering thing inside of him to the whole room with one glance. One blush. One breath. 

Because tonight, you weren’t just a fixture by his side. You were something else entirely. The only scent in his nose, the only sound in his ears, the only sight in his dress. 

He should have been focused on the man in front of him, the one he was here to meet, the one whose words he was supposed to be committing to memory. 

Instead, his mind spiraled away from him, caught in a tailwind of hallucination. 

One that captured the details of your rising and falling chest, your bitten lips, your shifting stance. Coalescing them into the feel of your hand is his when he’d lead you around the corner, away from prying eyes. When he’d feel the heat of your body flush against his own, your fingers branding the nape of his neck, the center of his chest, the waistband of his trousers. 

When he’d taste your lips, your wine-tinged breath, the petal-soft skin of your neck beneath his lips. When he’d swallow your gasps and moans with panted, open-mouthed kisses. 

When he’d press you into the low garden wall, hoard you in the corner to himself. Not like an object or possession, not you were something. But like you were everything. 

Would you want that? Would you let him?

The man across from you both was still talking. 

Sylus clenched his jaw, tried to redirect his focus. Forced himself to nod at something and offer a well-placed hum of interest. 

But the words blurred as you pulled his attention taut like a rope, fraying it at the edges. 

And Sylus wasn't sure he could keep it from unraveling completely.

The evening continued to pass in a blur of wine, small talk, and stolen glances. Sylus played his part perfectly, charming everyone he spoke to and keeping the attention firmly on himself. 

But every now and then, you’d catch him looking at you, his eyes dark and unreadable, and you’d feel that same pull between you, the one that made it so hard to remember why this was such a bad idea. That you were a resident of Linkon City, not some anonymous figure who could disappear into the crowd if things went sideways. 

If anyone from Linkon recognized you here, if they saw you with him—

Sylus leaned down, breath ghosting over your ear as the owner of Sylus’ mysterious piece of jewelry lead them to another group of tuxes. "Relax, kitten."

"You brought me here, remember?" you said under your breath. "If I get recognized, that's your problem."

"Hm." Sylus seemed to consider what you thought were very valid concerns, until he said, “It's a good thing you’re the only problem I don’t mind having.”

Though he kept his gaze forward, his lips quirked in expectation. Like he was trying to burn the paper-thin wall between you into wisps of smoke.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. You were already standing too close, already betraying yourself too much. In the way you had to keep forcing yourself to stop glancing at his face. In the way your palm kept tightening around his bicep. In the way your other palm itched to grasp his, which swayed gently between your bodies. 

"You keep looking at me like that," he murmured, his voice a smooth, knowing drawl, "and I’m going to start thinking you enjoy spending time with me.”

Your amused scoff does nothing to banish the hot and fluttery thing that unfurls in your stomach. ”I’m looking at you like that because I’m wondering how much trouble you’re going to get me into."

His voice was all sand and gravel. “If I wanted you in trouble, sweetie, we’d be moving away from this crowd not closer to it.”

It was dangerous, how easy this was. How he always knew exactly what to say to keep the sound of your heartbeat echoing in your ears and make the rest of the world fade into the background.

"Besides there's nothing to worry about," Sylus continued, dipping his head just slightly, his breath warm against your temple. "No one here is paying attention to you."

You arched a brow, refusing to let him be the one to make you break character as the tuxes morph into men with voices and bodies and faces. "Except for you."

Again, no change in Sylus’ expression, but his final murmur before he greeted the new group was smug and wolfish. "You say that like I could help myself."

The conversation around you drifted in and out of your focus. A blend of polite pleasantries and measured negotiations that you only half-listened to, which, you supposed you should’ve been grateful for since it only strengthened your role as arm trophy. 

Logically, you knew there were eyes on him—some curious, some wary, some openly hostile. Not everyone in this room admired Sylus. Some feared him. Some wanted him gone.

And yet. Despite knowing that keeping your distance kept you both safe, your thoughts grew increasingly more dangerous as you succumbed to the consequences of him. 

You imagined Sylus’ hands in your hair, cupping your face and easing your legs around his waist. His voice a low murmur, you have no idea what you do to me, kitten. 

You could almost see his shirt hastily unbuttoned and feel fabric bunched at your hips by rough, dominant fingers. You could almost feel his skin against your own, just as flushed, just as feverish.

His lips would descend upon yours, hot and insistent. Your eager fingers clutched at his nape, tracing the broad plains of his shoulders. Your chest could almost feel the expanse of Sylus’ chest pressed against yours until— 

You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms, desperately trying to detach yourself from the daydream. You had to push it down, lock it away, keep yourself in check. Because if you didn’t—

You might do something reckless.

Like, close the space between you. Let yourself forget what he was, what you were, and what it would mean to want him.

Your pulse pounded in your ears as you forced yourself to look away, to breathe. The heat in your skin, the ache in your gut — it was just the atmosphere, just the act.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

And yet, as Sylus turned his head slightly, his gaze catching yours with something dark and knowing, you had a feeling he wasn’t fooled in the slightest.

The crisp night air did little to cool the heat still thrumming beneath your skin as Sylus led you outside. The sounds of laughter and clinking glasses faded behind you, replaced by the quiet hum of the city. A sleek black car idled at the curb, its glossy surface reflecting the glow of streetlights.

Sylus walked you to the back door and opened it, one hand resting on the door, the other slipping into his pocket. 

“See? No troublemaking needed,” he murmured, his tone light, almost teasing. “We make a good pair.”

Before you could respond, something cool brushed against your skin. A whisper of metal sliding around your neck, the weight of it settling just above your collarbone. Instinctively, your fingers lifted to touch it—a delicate chain, smooth and fine, and at its center, a pendant that felt solid against your fingertips.

You look up at Sylus, brows knitting in question, but he only watched you with that same unreadable intensity he had all night.

“What is this?” you asked.

He reached out, his fingers brushing over yours where they rested against the pendant. “A gift,” he said simply. “I… hear you’re supposed to ask when you want someone to be yours on Valentine's Day.”

“You…” you exhaled in disbelief. “You planned this?” 

“Silly questions don’t deserve answers, kitten.” His smile was all wicked amusement.

Something fluttered in your chest—part irritation, part something much more dangerous. “So, you didn’t actually need me to get this.” You gestured to the necklace, fingers still resting lightly against the pendant.

“No, that sale was made last week. Tonight was just a hand-off.” Sylus leaned in, close enough that his breath ghosted over your cheeks, his voice dipping into something nearly tender. “Like I said, I just wanted you to be mine tonight.”

A half-hysterical laugh bubbles up from your throat. “What if I’d said no? That I don’t belong to anyone?”

"It's alright," Sylus shrugged as if he’d already taken that into consideration, stepping back with one last squeeze of your waist.

“Wouldn't change the fact that I’m already yours."

[covenofagatha]

Mistakes have been made this afternoon. I have had sake and no food, so fuck it, I'm going to be brave. Agatha/reader, semi-public sex, vaginal sex, oral sex, degradation, praise, and breeding kink if you are still taking requests.

Of course! And to everyone else who requested a fic, they should hopefully be up soon!

A gala to remember

You're feeling a little neglected by your girlfriend so you take advantage of her unfounded jealousy while at a work event for her

Word count: 2400

Warnings: literally pure filth, semi-public sex, girl penis Agatha, cum, creampie, blowjob, vaginal sex, degradation, praise, breeding kink, I think that's it

There’s not enough appetizers at the fancy annual gala for the company your girlfriend works at to make you stop being mad at said girlfriend. 

That doesn’t mean you’re not going to try though. 

You’re on your second shrimp cocktail when Agatha comes over to where you’re standing and tightly grabs your arm. 

“Come over here. And put that down,” she hisses in your ear and drags you across the room. You yank your elbow out of her grasp and deliberately pretend that you don’t see her scowl at you. 

It has been a week since the two of you have had sex. You can’t blame Agatha, work for her is really busy this time of the year, but she has come home late every single night since Monday and you’ve barely seen her. 

She had been promising all week that on Friday night – tonight – she would be home early and the two of you would make up for lost time. You had even gone out and bought some new lingerie. You missed the feeling of Agatha’s cock inside you and you couldn’t wait for the end of the week. 

Until Thursday morning, before she had rushed out of the house, she had told you that she was expected at the company’s gala the next night and she wanted you to come with her. 

Normally, you wouldn’t mind attending a work event with your girlfriend, but a lot of feelings had become pent up over the week and there was also the fact that she had given you a day’s notice on cancelling the plans she had made. 

So yeah, you were being a bit of a brat. 

And Agatha was fully aware of that, and wasn’t having any of it. 

“You need to behave,” she whispers before the two of you approach a group of co-workers. 

“Or what?” You scoff sardonically. “Not going to fuck me for another week?” 

“Watch me,” she shoots back. And then she plasters on a fake smile. “Hey, guys, this is my girlfriend, y/n.” She introduces you to everyone, three men and two women. You politely shake their hands, barely even looking at them, until you get to the last woman, Rio. 

She’s a little younger than Agatha, her pale skin contrasts beautifully with her golden-brown eyes. She’s wearing a perfectly tailored suit, like Agatha, and there’s something about her intense energy that seems to draw you in. 

Speaking of Agatha, she must notice how you’re staring at Rio because she clears her throat and wraps an arm around your waist. 

“Oh, that reminds us, Agatha,” one of the men booms. They’ve been talking about something for the past few minutes but you’ve been zoning out, bored almost to tears. “We need to borrow you for a few seconds upstairs. There’s a contract we need you to look over.” 

Agatha squeezes your waist and you shoot her a pleading look but she’s already leaving with two of the guys. The group disbands and you awkwardly go find an empty table to stand at and eat more shrimp.

Great. Now you’re mad, miserable, and alone. 

Except, maybe not all alone. 

Rio saunters up to the table, holding two glasses of champagne. She hands one to you and silently toasts. You take a sip. 

“Big fan of these parties?” You ask, trying to break the uncomfortable silence that has settled over your table. She shrugs noncommittally.

��“They’re good for the company,” she says. “I don’t particularly enjoy parties.” 

You raise your glass to that. “Join the club. I’m only here because Agatha made me.” Maybe you shouldn’t be speaking ill of your girlfriend to her co-worker but you kind of want to vent to someone. 

Rio rests her head on her elbows and her eyes widen. “Agatha Harkness’s girlfriend. What is that like? Is she as much of a boss in the bedroom as she is in the office? Or is she one of those powerful people who submits completely?”

Images and memories of Agatha in the bedroom flit through your mind (she is definitely not the latter) and you choke on your drink, sending you into a coughing fit. Rio chuckles knowingly.

“That’s an interesting question to ask someone you just meant,” you say once you’re finally able to breathe again, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, well, I’m an interesting person,” she retorts with a smirk. You nod in agreement and laugh. 

And that’s when you feel a hand on your lower back and a presence right behind you. You whirl around, afraid it’s some old man, but it’s your girlfriend. 

“Agatha!” Rio exclaims with delight. “What a coincidence. We were just talking about you.”

“Excuse us,” Agatha says rudely and grabs your hand to drag you up the stairs of the event center. 

You roll your eyes exasperatedly. “What, Agatha?”  

She doesn’t say anything until you’re past the top of the stairs and she spins you around and shoves you against one of the pillars. You wince at the cold marble on your cheek but you’re quickly distracted by the feeling of Agatha’s body against your back. 

Particularly, her semi-hardened cock. 

“Were you seriously flirting with Rio Vidal?” She taunts right into your ear. “Was that some pathetic play to get me to notice you?”

You want to tell her that no, of course not, you weren’t even flirting and the only reason Rio had come over was because Agatha had left you all alone, but you don’t do any of that. Instead you wiggle your ass against her, enjoying her sharp intake of breath, and ask, “Did it work?” 

She growls and flips you around, forearm coming up to your throat. “Listen to me, little girl,” she says threateningly. “You are mine.” 

“Oh, am I?” You simper innocently. “I must’ve forgotten in the past week while you’ve been too tired to show me.” 

Her eyes flash with something dangerous. “Get on your knees.” 

It makes you falter. “What?” You look around the two of you. There’s no one up on the second floor right now, but Agatha and her co-workers had just been up here a second ago so who’s to say that won’t happen again? You aren’t exactly hidden from view from the people on the ground floor either. 

“Did I stutter?” 

Despite your reservations, you can feel how wet you’re getting and how much you’ve missed having Agatha like this. So you hike up your floor-length gown and slowly drop down to the floor. The tile hurts but you don’t care. 

You reach up to unzip Agatha’s pants and pull her cock out. The tip is already red and leaking with precum and you gasp at the sight, feeling an ache start to grow inside you. 

“Better go fast before someone catches you,” she says, weaving her hand through your hair. You’d like to remind her that if you get caught, she’ll be the one who gets in the most trouble, but she’s right. There isn’t time for that. 

You drag your tongue up the bottom of her cock and swirl it around the tip, getting immense pleasure when she lets out a small groan. You’ve almost forgotten how good she tastes. 

“God, you’re such a good slut for me,” she says. She collects your hair in a pony-tail as you start to bob your head up and down her dick. You can feel it twitch in your mouth and you tease the vein along the side which makes her hips jump. 

You swallow around her and try to push yourself further down. When you get close to gagging, you come back to lick at her tip while your hand strokes your saliva up and down the rest of her cock. 

“You look so fucking pretty with your mouth stretched around me,” Agatha groans. “Fuck, baby, can I use your mouth?”

You nod eagerly, peering up at her through your eyelids. Something about her using you like a toy really gets to you. 

And then you open your mouth wide and let her fuck her cock into you. You really hope the wet sounds you’re hearing are not as loud for everyone else. 

The need to breathe is burning in your lungs and your eyes are tearing up, but you can tell Agatha is close to cumming based on the tightening grip in your hair, the blissed expression on her face, and the way her cock is stuttering on your tongue. You want her to cum all over your face when she suddenly stops and pulls out of you. Air rushes into you and you cough weakly. 

“What?” You ask, a little disappointed. Without answering, she pulls you off your knees and pushes you back against another wall. She parts your dress at the slit and slides a hand through it to cup you over your underwear, smirking triumphantly when she finds you soaked. 

“God, sucking me off where anyone could see like a whore really does it for you, doesn’t it?” She taunts. “So pathetic, baby. So needy. You want me to fuck you so badly, don’t you? That’s why you’ve been such a brat this whole night, right? You want my attention, my cock in you so bad that this is how you’re acting?” 

Embarrassment colors your cheeks but you hold your head high. Nothing she said was false. “What are you going to do about it?” 

She scoffs and smirks. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m going to remind you who you belong to, because apparently a little slut like you needs a constant reminder.” She directs you to hike your dress up and she slides your underwear to the side. She positions one of your legs over her hip and without preamble, she thrusts her cock all the way into you. Your head falls back against the wall with a loud moan. 

Agatha clamps her hand over your mouth and stays still. She is filling you up so perfectly, even if it’s been a week since you’ve taken her. The delicious stretch is exactly what you’ve been missing. 

“Please, Aggie,” you whimper and she starts to move, hitting your special spot every time. “Feels so good.” 

“God, you’re taking my cock so well,” she grunts, picking up her pace. Your mouth falls open but no noise comes out. “It’s like you were made for me. So perfect, angel. Such a good girl.” You nod your head and roll your hips with every one of her thrusts. 

“Agatha, oh my god,” you moan, feeling her nails dig into your hips through her dress. You know that she’s close, can feel her throbbing inside you, and you’re not too far behind. 

“Such a desperate slut,” she croons. If there’s one thing about Agatha you love, it’s how quickly and effortlessly she can go from praise to degradation and back. “Needing me so bad, making me fuck you at my work event because a whore like you wants to be filled. Where anyone could walk up here and see how desperate you are for me. I want them to see what a whore I make you into. Especially Rio. Want her to know who you belong to. Fuck, sweetheart. Want me to fill you up, baby?” 

The thought of her spilling her cum inside you makes you clench even more around her cock. You absolutely love the feeling: the warmth, the way it feels leaking out of you, the times Agatha would eat you out after and taste the mix of your wetness with her cum and then kiss you so you could taste it too. 

“Yes, please, Aggie, fill me up, breed me,” you whine, whispering the two words that the both of you only use on special occasions. 

It has the intended effect because a feral look settles in Agatha’s eyes and she fucks into you with renewed vigor, hands gripping you so hard you think you’ll have bruises tomorrow. 

Or at least you hope. 

“Gonna breed you, baby, gonna fill you up with my cum,” she pants, the effort getting to her a little. “Cum all over my cock like the perfect slut that you are.” 

You take a hand off her shoulder to reach down and rub your clit and that little extra spark of pleasure sends you orgasming all over Agatha’s cock. Her hips splutter and she lets out a long sigh before you feel her twitch inside you and then a spurt of warmth fills you. You moan at the feeling, almost cumming again.

She stays in you until she softens and the second she pulls out, she wipes her cock all over your pussy to clean herself off, smearing the mess all over you, and tugs your lacy underwear back into place. You bite your lip at the feeling of her cum dripping out of you and when you take a shaky step towards her, you can feel how drenched your panties are, coated with a mixture of the two of you. 

And now you have to spend the rest of the night like that. 

“I promise I’ll clean you off when we get home,” Agatha says, teasing smirk telling you that her tongue will definitely be involved. You clench around nothing at her words and the images they bring, and you can feel more of her cum ooze out. You’re able to tell that some of it is on your inner thighs and you really hope it’s not visible through the dress. Or on the dress. 

But you don’t have time to worry about that. Agatha kisses you softly and pulls you in for a hug. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t made time for you this week,” she murmurs. “I’m all yours this weekend, I swear on my life. I told the guys earlier that if they had a problem, they’d have to figure it out themselves or wait until Monday.” 

You tighten your arms around her, feeling suddenly giddy. “Thank you, baby.”

Agatha reluctantly steps away after a few more moments of holding you close and you miss her body against yours. “Shall we rejoin society?” 

You pretend to think about it for a second until she smiles and then you take her hand. She leads you back down the stairs, her cum still seeping out of you. 

[itsgivingmami]

A Long Search Ended

Part One- Real And Dangerous

Rhea Ripley x Reader

You almost didn’t go.

Not because you were nervous—but because you’ve learned to trust your instincts, and this had every opportunity to go wrong.

Anonymous messages. Confident, clipped texts signed “Mami.” Lavish coffee tips sent to your link every morning—5x the price of what you actually ordered. Then, the invite: an upscale rooftop bar downtown, no profile picture, no name, just “Wear black. I’ll know you.”

You’d Googled the bar three times. Glass railings. Skyline views. Cocktails named after ancient gods. You weren’t scared. You were just strategic.

You wore your sharpest heels. Vintage. Black satin. They hurt a little, but that was part of the look. You didn’t come here to play small.

You told yourself you’d leave after one drink. Just long enough to prove you weren’t afraid of your own power, your own choices.

And then you saw her.

Rhea Ripley.

Nothing like you imagined—and somehow exactly what you’d hoped for.

She’s already at the corner table, silhouette haloed in citylight, like the universe remembered how to draw desire in human form. Tall, inked, dressed in black. Button-down half open, chains catching the glow, jawline so clean it could cut glass. One arm slung over the chair. The other holding a drink like it owes her something.

She isn’t scrolling. Isn’t looking around.

She’s already watching you.

And she smiles.

You walk toward her like you own the place.

“You came,” she says, voice smooth and grounded in velvet. “Good girl.”

Your spine straightens, but you don’t flinch. If anything, your smirk answers hers.

“I almost didn’t,” you admit, sliding into the chair she just pulled out for you with one hand. “You know how this can be,” Rhea hums in agreement, “But something told me you’d be real. That or dangerous.”

She shrugs, amused. “Can’t promise I’m not both.”

She gestures toward the bar without breaking eye contact. “What’ll you have, pretty girl?”

You give your order with a nod—unapologetic but polite. She watches you like she’s impressed already.

You know how to hold her attention. And you like the weight of it and have no intention of handing it over to someone else.

The drinks come fast. She tips without looking. The man behind the bar practically trips over himself to say thank you.

Rhea doesn't blink. Her attention is on you.

“So,” she says, swirling the rim of her glass with one ringed finger, “let’s get the formalities out of the way.”

You cross your legs slowly– controlled. “Sure.”

“What are you looking for?” she asks, tone low. Curious, not calculating.

You don’t blink. “Someone who gets it. Who spoils because they want to, not because it’s earned by fake sweetness. I’m not an actress. If I flirt, it’s because I feel like it. If I don’t, I won’t fake it for a handbag.”

Her expression doesn’t change, but something behind her eyes sharpens. Like she’s just made a decision.

“I don’t like girls who fake it either,” she says. “Good. Keep going.”

You take a slow sip. “I’m not naive. I know what this is. But I don’t want to be bought. I want to be chosen. And I want the same right in return.”

Rhea nods, thoughtful. “So you want power. Just not a leash.”

“I want someone who sees me as a luxury. Not a receipt.”

That earns you a grin. “Fuck. You’re better than I thought.”

You lift a brow. “What did you think I’d be?”

She leans in, resting her forearms on the table. “ Too timid. Or greedy. Either way, forgettable.”

You let the compliment sit. You don’t need to downplay it. You don’t blush. You just smile and take another sip.

“And you?” you ask. “What are you looking for?”

Rhea’s gaze doesn’t waver.

“Someone who lets me take care of them,” she says simply. “Without guilt. Without games. I want to come home from a week of throwing chairs and fists and find a reason to breathe out. I want soft moments. Eye contact. Quiet trust. And I want to give you everything that makes your life easier.”

She tilts her glass. “That’s the deal.”

You study her. “That sounds dangerously good.”

She smirks. “Baby, most people agree I am.”

There’s a silence that crackles between you. Not awkward. Heavy. Bright. Something dangerous and golden and electric.

“So,” she adds, voice silkier now, “what’s your allowance minimum?”

You don’t squirm. You don’t hedge.

“A thousand a week,” you say easily. “At baseline.”

She tilts her head like she’s watching a spark she’d only hoped to see.

“Add a zero,” she replies, lifting her drink. “And don’t insult yourself like that again.”

You blink, momentarily stunned but you don’t flinch. “You don’t know if I’m worth that.” and factually, you’re right. But the two of you are old hands at this game and from what she's seen so far, she wants you as her playmate.

She grins, slow and devilish. “I’ll enjoy finding out.”

You sip your drink like it doesn’t matter. Like the idea of her isn't causing you excitement. Like the ice doesn’t burn down your throat and the way she’s looking at you doesn’t stir heat low in your stomach.Like she hasn’t even paid for anything yet and you feel spoiled. You hum thoughtfully, setting the glass down.

���I’m not cheap,” you murmur. “In case that’s unclear.”

Rhea’s gaze narrows—pleased. “Good.”

She leans forward, resting her forearms on the table, her rings catching the glow from the candle between you. “Cheap doesn’t suit you. You wear value too well.”

You let your lip curve up slightly, just enough to show her you heard the compliment. Just enough to let her know she’s earned another.

“You always this smooth?” you ask, tilting your head.

“No,” she says simply. “Only when I want something.”

That makes your brow lift—just a little. “And what exactly do you want, Mami?”

The nickname rolls off your tongue like you’ve always said it. Like it belongs there. And Rhea, for a fraction of a second, loses her rhythm. Her brain forgets that she’s heard a thousand people call her that, but she's never heard you do it and she's not sure she cares to hear it from anyone else again. Her jaw flexes. Her thumb taps once against her glass.

Then she recovers.

“I want late-night drives with someone who knows how to sit in silence and still be heard,” she replies. “I want to spoil a woman who doesn’t apologize when she asks for more. I want to be the one she texts when she’s bored, or hungry, or just needs to feel expensive for no reason. I don't want someone who thinks they're bothering me for something when i've told them a thousand times I want to give it”

She leans in just enough for the scent of her cologne to wrap around you—clean and rich and a little dangerous.

“I want to give you the world,” she says. “If you’re smart enough to let me.”

The words settle between you like silk sheets—cool at first, but warming fast.

Your fingers trace the rim of your glass pink lip pulled between your teeth and you listen. “And what do you get?”

Her smile doesn’t falter. “The pleasure of watching you take it.”

It’s almost too much. Her confidence, the way she seems to genuinely crave this, the way no woman you could’ve met on the site compares to this. Almost.

But you’re better at holding your own than most and she's clearly looking for experience, or at least the illusion of it. You sit back, letting the silence drag for a beat—let her feel you assess the offer like it’s one of many. Even though you already know no one else could hold a candle to her.

“I don’t fake things,” you reiterate one last time, the honesty she brings to the table prompts your own, “Not pleasure. Not conversation. Not interest.”

“I don’t want to pretend I do enough of it at work, paid for too many fake girls to last me lifetimes,” she replies instantly. “I want you.”

The way she says it—low and unapologetic—catches something behind your ribs.

Your voice softens, but it doesn’t tremble. “You’re sure?”

Rhea tilts her head. “I’m never not.”

Another beat. The tension shifts, subtle but seismic.

You feel it in your spine.

In the air between your knees under the table.

In the way she watches you like she’s ready to spend ten grand and not even ask for your name in return—just to see you smile like this again.

“So,” she murmurs, her voice a velvet blade, “are you ready to let me take care of you?”

Your heart doesn’t race.

It prowls.

You lean forward slightly, letting your knee brush hers beneath the table.

“Yes,”

—

The night ends before you’re ready.

Not because you’ve run out of things to say—if anything, your words are starting to blur, pulled close by candlelight and that low drawl of hers that always lands somewhere just behind your navel. You’ve kept her entertained—despite the fact she’d be happy staring at you in that dress.. You’ve kept control.

But she’s still holding the power.

And you like it that way.

You’ve spent the past two hours with her —drink in hand, gaze heavy on your lips, never once pretending to look away. She asked questions with the kind of focus that made your pulse jump, voice low and unhurried. She never pushed. Never pressed. Just… let the silence stretch where it needed to, like she trusted you’d fill it with something worth hearing.

And you did.

The bartender dims the lights slightly. The crowd thins. Rhea finishes her drink, slow, and stands.

Her hand extends toward you—rings catching light, wrist inked, knuckles slightly bruised. You take her hand, gentle around the wounds, your fingers sliding against hers in a soft grip that still makes your stomach twist. She helps you from the booth like it's a habit. Like it’s instinct. Like you already belong where her hand goes first.

You don’t speak.

Not yet.

The walk out is quiet. Her body close to yours, not crowding but anchoring. Every few steps, her hand grazes your back—just enough to remind you she’s there. That she’s watching. That this isn’t some exit on autopilot. She’s walking you out. You get the attention. Not the others still sipping expensive cocktails or leaning too hard at the bar.

Outside, the air is cooler. Wind brushes your legs. You don’t shiver, but she notices.

Without a word, she shrugs off her jacket and drapes it around your shoulders. It’s warm. Smells like leather and cologne and her skin. You close your fingers over the lapel on instinct, holding it there.

Then she holds out a small, folded square of paper. The kind you only get when someone wants to make sure you don’t forget the moment.

Your name is written on it in her handwriting. Strong. Slanted. Clean.

You glance from the paper to her face. She’s unreadable beneath the soft glow of the streetlamp.

“I want to know when you’re home safe,” she says simply. “That’s my real number.”

You blink.

because you’re surprised— “You don’t want to use the app messenger?” —because she’s cutting straight through the act. No games. No waiting.

“You’re giving this to me after one night?” you ask, brows lifting.

“Sweetheart,” Rhea murmurs, stepping closer, “I was going to give it to you before you even sat down.”

The words make something inside you pull tight.

She lifts a hand and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear where the wind’s loosened it. Her knuckles drag down the edge of your cheek—slow, reverent, like she’s memorizing the curve of your skin with her hands instead of her eyes.

It’s not a move. It’s a choice.

A final act of care before you part.

“Im done with maybes,” she says. “You’ve said yes, I don’t keep my options open”

You stare up at her, heart steady now but beating hard. There’s no hesitation in her gaze. No uncertainty in her voice. Just the weight of a choice already made.

“…Thank you,” you say quietly. Not shy. Just honest.

She leans in—not for a kiss, not yet. Just close enough that you feel her breath against your lips when she speaks.

“Text me when you get home,” she says. “Or I won’t sleep.”

You nod.

She opens the door for you, waiting until you slide inside before shutting it gently behind you. She doesn’t wave. Doesn’t smile again. She just stands there—tall, steady, unmoving—watching you like a promise.

And when you finally unfold the note in your lap, the number is written in thick black ink. At the bottom, in the corner, there’s a small sketch—

A heart. Simple. Inked in the same bold hand.

Claiming you without asking permission. For the first time since the sun began to set, you allow yourself to feel excited.

And all the way home, the paper sits in your lap like it’s worth more than every hundred-dollar bill you’ve ever touched.

—

The city hums around her, alive, neon and windy—but Rhea walks like she’s underwater. She barely takes in the scenery as she reflects on the past 3 hours, the front of her brain still flashing with memories she’d like to keep for later. She could’ve called for another car but there's something about you that brings a nostalgia she doesn't recognize, but drags her along the busy street anyway.

Boots heavy. Hands in her pockets. Shoulders tight beneath the weight of her own thoughts. She cuts down a quieter street off the main drag, where the headlights can’t reach and the echo of your heels still rings in her ears.

She’s never liked goodbyes.

Even temporary ones.

And this one—it felt like more than a goodbye.

But tonight feels different.

Because you were different.

And Rhea is trying—failing—not to admit how much she noticed that.

You left with her jacket, her number, the scent of her skin on your shoulders. But what you left behind was the feeling of something new.

Rhea’s always been good at this.

She’s done this.

Sugar dynamics. Affection as an offering. Spoiling as a skill.

Something quieter than loneliness but sharper than peace. A need to give. To own. To make someone’s life prettier by touching it. And maybe, selfishly, to be seen as more than fists and titles and bruised knuckles in gold rings.

She’s had her share of maybe-babies. Girls who called her Mommy before they even asked her real name. Girls who wanted bags, not boundaries. Girls who loved the idea of her—until they met the steel beneath the silk.

It used to be a way to feel in control.

A way to give without the mess of commitment because she didn’t have time for it.

To feel wanted. Powerful.

To watch someone light up when she gave them something—jewelry, rent, plane tickets—without the tangle of actual feelings in return.

It was easier that way.

Until it wasn’t.

Until she started noticing how many of them flinched when she got quiet.

How many pulled out the baby voice when asking for money.

How many called her “Mommy” after half a drink—without meaning it.

Just because they thought it would work.

It did, for a while.

But it always left her colder.

And worse than the sugar babies?

The friends.

The ones who only called when they wanted to borrow something.

The ones who used her name for clout and ghosted when she got injured.

The ones who swore they saw her but never looked close enough to notice when she was drowning.

She started building walls before she even realized she was doing it.

Started answering less texts.

Stopped letting anyone follow her to work.

Stopped giving her real number.

And tonight?

Tonight she’d expected to feel nothing.

Maybe you’d be hot.

Maybe you’d be funny.

Maybe it would be another quiet, forgettable evening that left her wallet lighter and no more fulfilled.

But then you showed up—heels clicking, chin lifted, eyes sharp.

You sat across from her tonight like you already understood what you were walking into. Like you knew she’d be different from women you’ve met.

You flirted when you wanted to. Didn’t when you didn’t. You talked like you’d never been anyones before—not because no one had tried, but because no one had made it feel safe. You said Mami like you were testing the weight of it in your mouth and then smiling at the taste.

She ponders if that's the reason, or if it's something else that makes you so dangerous. The type that causes manic decisions and desire filled ideas. The type of danger that makes her delete her sugar profile despite waiting weeks for verification the first time.

You make her feel like the first time she bought herself something expensive, the first time she splurged on a fancy car, the first time she ever flew first class.

Rhea exhales hard through her nose. Her breath fogs under the glow of a flickering streetlamp. She pauses beneath it, the kind of place where deals are made and confessions slip out when the night’s too quiet.

She pulls her phone from her pocket.

You haven’t texted yet.

She looks up. The sky’s the color of velvet dipped in ash. Her reflection swims faintly in the shop window beside her—black shirt rumpled at the collar, neck flushed, jaw tight.

She still smells like you.

The thought alone makes her shift her stance, fists clenching once, jaw flexing again.

And then—

A vibration.

She closes her eyes and smiles, she barely needs to look to know who it is but she does anyway.

home safe.

Thank you again for tonight.

She stares at it for a beat.

Not because she doesn’t know what to say.

But because suddenly, everything she could say feels too small for the moment. Too small to signal the beginning of something new. Too simple, too practiced, too many times she’s played this game.

You don't need a reassuring nudge,

You're not of the maybe babies, trusted that she didn’t need you crawling and falling over her for her to spoil you,

You dont need to be persuaded into feeling comfortable with her.

You already did and that was worth more than anything she could’ve paid for tonight.

So she types one word.

Good.

Then she adds another, something out of her normal wheel house— like you.

Sweet dreams, baby.

She pockets her phone and starts walking again, slower now.

The street curves ahead. The night still stretches wide.

And for the first time in months—maybe years—Rhea doesn’t feel like she needs to guard what she gives.

She wants to give it.

Wants to watch you take it.

Wants to see if you’ll surprise her again.

She’s still not sure what this is.

But she knows it’s not fake.

And for her?

That’s enough to make her want the next night before this one’s even over.

—

It’s been just over an hour since you got home.

Your dress is folded across the back of your chair. Your heels are off. Your skin still smells faintly like her cologne—rich, smooth, and unsettling in the best way. A three wick candle burns on your desk, the scent of clean laundry floating around.

The note she gave you sits on your nightstand, unfolded, the logo of the bar sitting in the corner.

You haven’t texted again.

You don’t need to. She said text when you’re home. And you did.

But still, you keep hearing her words:

Text me when you’re home. Or I won’t sleep.

There’s something about it—soft but possessive, quiet but firm. Like she didn’t just say it. She meant it.

You want to tell her that despite having your comfy clothes on, the feeling of riding her high makes you feel wrapped in luxury. Like adding her into your phone adds thousands to your networth. Like being hers suddenly feels like being a necklace in a glass case that everyone else wants.

You lean back against your bed, breathing steady. Still processing the way she looked at you—like you were something precious she deserved, planned to claim. Like she knew the gifts did partly for you, and partly for her getting to see you in them. It was rare to meet a sugar parent concerned more with spoiling than the affection that came with it. It's a nice change of pace you finally feel like you can keep up with. And then—your doorbell rings.

You pause.

It’s nearly 11PM.

You’re not expecting anyone.

Cautious, you approach the door and peek through the window. Sitting neatly on your doorstep is a tall white box. Elegant. Weighted. Tied with a wide black satin ribbon. There’s a card tucked into the bow. Handwritten.

For you.

No logo. No return address.

But you already know who it’s from.

You bring it inside, heart pounding with something warmer than surprise. You place it on your bed, fingers slow and deliberate as you untie the ribbon—like the act deserves patience.

The scent hits you first.

Vanilla. Lavender. Rose. Something headier and darker underneath. It smells like a boutique where everything costs too much and nothing feels cheap. It smells like her.

Inside is a bouquet—lush and decadent. Pale petals layered with deep, moody blooms. You can see the thought behind it. A study in contrast. Soft meeting sharp.

And nestled beneath the flowers—an envelope.

Your name. Her handwriting.

You open it.

Inside, a small black card. Thick paper. Gold print. Simple.

You read.

You were even better than I imagined.

I said I don’t have a spending limit.

That wasn’t just about clothes.

I meant time.

Attention.

Energy.

www.elysianthread.com — it’s one of my favorites.

I want to see you in every damn thing they make.

Pick out whatever you want.

Make a cart.

Send it to me.

There’s nothing I wouldn’t want to see you in.

— R

Your breath catches.

Not from shock.

But you weren't expecting it within an hour of leaving her.

You set the card down next to her Humber on your nightstand, bite your bottom lip, and open your laptop. The website pulls up in seconds. It’s stunning—sleek black background, gold lettering, photography shot like fashion editorials and forbidden dreams.

Silk slips. Structured corsets. Soft lounge sets. Delicate chokers.

Luxury lingerie that feels like armor and worship in the same breath.

And you’re not blushing— well maybe a little.

You’re smiling.

You lean into the screen, scrolling slowly. Imagining the weight of the gaze you'd spent hours across for earlier and what would change it, make it lighter, heavier, needier. You find yourself more excited adding pieces in dark tones than your usual pastel palette, pieces feeling closer to the woman buying them for you. You select pieces like statements. Like spells.

Slips in oxblood silk.

Loungewear that looks soft enough to drown in.

A gold anklet with a black charm you swear could pass for her energy in accessory form.

When the cart’s sizable, you copy the link. Open her message thread.

included a lot to pick from

you don’t have to—

You pause. Delete the second line.

You don’t need to soften it.

You don’t need to ask for less.

She invited this.

She wanted you.

You send the link.

Two minutes later, her reply hits.

Rhea:

Sweetheart.

You really think I’m picking one?

—

To be continued— likes, comments and reblogs always appreciated💜

—

Taglist- let me know if you’d like to be added

@starrycherie

@oldmanluvr13

[blacknedsoul-blog]

An unnecessarily detailed analysis of the alcoholic beverages at the last meal

Okey, situation: as some of you may know if you watch this blog often, I'm a cocktail aficionado. I was recently doing some research on port wine because I wanted to buy one to make some Lenore-based themed cocktails and because I wanted to expand my ingredient list (Vitamin wines are quite versatile) and I ended up with the idea of doing a more in-depth review on this topic.

Lenore: Oport Wine

Okay, let's start with what gave rise to this. Port wine is a type of fortified wine (i.e. wine to which other distillates are added before fermenting, which increases the alcohol content) born in the city of Oporto in Portugal around the XVI-XVII century, this specific variety of wine uses aguardente before being fermented.

There are several types of port, so it is difficult to know which is exactly the one Lenore is drinking, but from the dark red color of the glass, I have two options: a ruby port or a vintage port.

The first is the more commonly distributed (and, in some places, cheaper) is a fruity, sweetish wine with a hint of acid; so it's the kind of thing you'd probably drink at a meal. However, the second is the most expensive variety of port and the only one that is bottle-aged; taking into consideration that the Vandernatch belonged to New York royalty, it is very likely that this is the specific variety Lenore is drinking.

Eulalie: lager

So that we all agree: lager (or lager beer) is the most popular variety of beer in the world. They are light, mild, bitter and served cold.

What she has in her glass must specifically be a pale lager. That is, what we all have in mind when we think of a glass of beer, having a pale golden color.

One important thing is that two of Japan's largest brewing companies specialize in lager beer: Kirin and Sapporo; both brands began to be marketed during the 19th century.

Another detail is that the brewing industry was reactivated in the USA during the year 1933 and, although hardly at the beginning, by the 1940's beer production increased considerably.

So the type of beer she is drinking may be a nod to her Japanese heritage (lager is the most popular type of beer in Japan) or we can assume that she was a customer at the brewpubs that were popular in the USA during the reopening of the beer trade after prohibition.

Morella: guinness

This is a very special case. The beer that Morella is drinking is specifically a guinness, that is, a brand of black beer brewed since 1759 that was born in the city of Dublin in Ireland.

Although this beer is also drunk a lot in Scotland, the truth is that it is much more popular in Ireland, so we can assume that it is a reference to her country of origin.

Pluto: cider

Cider is an ancient drink (it is said that the Hebrews and Egyptians already made it), but it became extremely popular in England during the 17th century, surpassing beer in popularity and becoming part of the cultural identity of the country, having a lot of varieties.

It's impossible to know which specific cider Pluto is drinking but, as with Morella, it's quite indicative of its country of origin.

Duke: brandy

Brandy is a type of spirit obtained from the distillation of wine and there are tons of variations throughout the world. Although the most common origin story I've found tells of a Dutch merchant who bought wines in the Cognac region of France and distilled them, leaving the alcohol in casks so he could collect it on his return trip (which never came to fruition).

Now, one interesting thing here is that even if you can argue that brandy was born in France, it is interesting that Duke is drinking “brandy” in generic rather than drinking Cognac or Armagnac, which are two varieties of brandy produced exclusively in France.

Montresor: bourbon

This is a type of whiskey made exclusively in the USA and is native to Kentucky from the fermentation of corn. It has been produced since the end of the 18th century and, fun fact, its first known producer was a Baptist pastor.

Anyway, the interesting thing about Montresor drinking it is that bourbon is a drink that was, for a long time, “popular” and is commonly associated with the southern part of the USA. Another interesting thing is that it has a fairly high alcohol content, reaching over 50% alcohol.

Ada: champagne

Fun fact: the name “champagne” is exclusive to the region of the same name, although we usually call sparkling wines in general.

And yes, we all know that champagne is a drink associated with luxury, but this made me review why and there are several reasons why Ada would choose it to accompany her caviar:

Champagne was the favorite drink of the European courts and bourgeoisie for quite some time.

Having a rather complicated winemaking process, it was stupidly expensive.

Serving champagne “correctly” is a real pain in the ass: the bottle is kept horizontally, you have to drink it in a specific glass at a temperature of 6-8 degrees Celsius (to reach this temperature is that they put it in ice buckets for about 20 minutes) and the glass has to be tilted in a particular way. So it's understandable why, of all the fancy things available, she would choose this.

Berenice: Gin Fizz

This is, to me, the most interesting drink of all the ones in this section. Let's take it one at a time.

The Gin Fizz was born in the 19th century, where several versions are documented. However, the one who hated the great leap in the preparation of this cocktail was Henry C. Ramos, in the city of New Orleans. One of his Gin Fizz could have up to 30 bartenders involved passing a shaker around for half an hour.

The popularity of this cocktail increased dramatically during the Prohibition era, since, in all its versions, it looks like lemonade.

Since Bernice's Gin Fizz doesn't seem to have an excessive amount of foam, it's likely a pre-Ramos recipe (which is kind of funny because The Bartender's Guide cocktail manual of 1876 considers the Gin Fizz to be a hangover remedy).

Another fun fact: if Bernice isn't looking surprised at the ice cubes inside her cocktail, it's because this girl was used to ultra-luxury bars: refrigeration wasn't a thing back then and if your drink ever got ice, it was more likely to be an ugly block chopped up badly than a nice ice cube.

[burningembers91]

Cosmopolitan Kisses - Cho Hyun-Ju x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

Powder Blue Dress

Synopsis: After a night out, the unspoken feelings between you and Hyun-Ju bubble to the surface

Cho Hyun-Ju couldn’t remember a time when she’d be happier. These days, her face ached from the almost constant smile she wore. Life was almost perfect for her, and she had you to thank for that. For the first time in her existence, she didn’t feel like a freak, like a burden. She felt comfortable in her own skin, she felt beautiful when she looked in the mirror. Your friendship had been invaluable; the love, grace and acceptance you’d shown was unlike anything she’d known. She still endured stares, jeers and awkward comments from those around her, but they seemed to bounce off her a little easier these days. There were still days when the words got to her, but she didn’t have to deal with it alone anymore.

She’d found a great friend group, one who’d accepted her just the way she was. There were no uncomfortable questions, no expectations for her to be someone she wasn’t. She looked forward to her weekends, enjoyed doing her makeup and putting on the feminine outfits she’d bought; she enjoyed being absolutely unapologetically herself. If she wasn’t sipping cocktails, she was singing loudly to karaoke or challenging her friends to beat her high score at the arcade. Sometimes she’d invite everyone to her apartment, relishing in the opportunity to play hostess to the friends who’d become the centre of her world. And right there in the middle was you, the girl who’d told Hyun-Ju that you thought she had a beautiful smile. You looked incredible tonight, in a black dressed that hugged you in all the right places. You laughed as your sipped on your Cosmopolitan, listening as one of your new friends told you about a disastrous date she’d been on. Your lipstick had marked the rim of your glass, the bold, rich redness pulling Hyun-Ju in. She got lost in the way your lips looked. The way they arched up when you smiled, the way the tip of your tongue flicked across your upper lip every now and then. She longed to kiss you, to have your lipstick stain her lips. You caught her smiling, offering her one in return.

She was on her third cocktail now, and her confidence was growing. You’d had brief conversations about your dating preferences over the last few months, and you’d all but confirmed that you fell for someone based on their personality, not on their anatomy. But something still stopped Hyun-Ju from taking the next step. A lifetime of rejection and ridicule had made her doubt herself, and she would hate to ruin what you had. “Do you want another one?” you asked, pointing to her almost empty glass. “It’s my round.” She nodded at you, watching as you made your way to the bar, your dress clinging to your figure. How she longed to put her hands on your waist, to pull you into her and feel your lips on hers. It was a scenario she’d replayed in her head and again, the image fuelling her desires on the nights where sleep escaped her.

You weren’t sure how many drinks you ended up having, not including the shots your friends insisted you downed to finish the night. You were well and truly feeling the effect of the cocktails as you and Hyun-Ju stumbled home arm in arm, laughing the whole way. “My feet are killing me,” you groaned, kicking off your shoes as you finally made it back to your apartment. “And I’m starving. Should we order a pizza?” “I already did.” Hyun-Ju flashed you her phone screen, smiling as she saw your face light up. She’d been on enough nights out with you now to know you always got hungry on the way home.

She wasn’t sure what the time was, but time seemed to stand still with you. She pulled a blanket over you both as you crashed on the sofa, resisting the urge to pull you in close to her. The TV was on, but she wasn’t paying attention to the channel, too busy recreating the frankly award-winning performance of 9-5 the two of you had sung at karaoke earlier in the night. Hyun-Ju had tears of laughter streaming down her face by the time the pizza arrived. It felt good to feel this light, to feel this on top of the world. As you stifled a yawn, she knew it was time to head back to her apartment. Back to the silence of her tiny room, where she knew she’d lie awake and think of you.

“I had an amazing time,” you smiled, your arms snaking round Hyun-Ju’s waist as you pulled her in for a hug. Any form of touch from you left her breathless, and tonight was no exception. You smelled like lavender shampoo and vanilla, your body so warm and soft against hers. She didn’t want to let go of you, didn’t want to end the night when she was having such a perfect time. As you parted, your eyes met, and the world seemed to stand still. She could see the steady rise and fall of your chest, could see the way you nervously bit your bottom lip.

“I’d really like to kiss you,” you whispered, your fingers entwining with hers. “Are you sure?” Hyun-Ju was so taken aback, so thrown off course that she was sure she’d heard you wrong. Never had she imagined that you, the girl she sang with, confided in and counted on would ever see her as more than a friend. “Yes,” you smiled, “I’m definitely sure.”

Your lips met, soft and slow. The feel of your kiss was electric, sending the most delicious sparks through Hyun-Ju’s entire body. She’d spent months dreaming about kissing you, but the dreams were nothing in comparison to reality. Your hand trailed up her back, coming to rest on the nape of her neck. She sighed contentedly into your lips as your fingers entwined in her hair, a feeling she’d thought about endlessly. She wondered how it would feel if you’d pulled on it, if you tipped her head back and explored her neck with your lips. You were so confident, so sure of yourself, guiding her as your kiss deepened. She placed her hands on your waist, feeling the softness of your curves in the dress she loved so much. She felt you shiver against her touch, heard your soft breathy moan as your teeth gently grazed her lower lip.

Neither of you wanted to pull away, but both of you were so conscious of taking your time, of making sure you got this right. You’d wanted each other for so long, but good things came to those who waited. “I should let you get some sleep,” Hyun-Ju smiled, placing a final soft kiss on your lips. “Come and see me tomorrow?” you asked, unable to resist one more tender kiss. Nodding, she left you, her feet dragging her back to her apartment. She wanted to stay so badly, to feel your body against hers, to make you moan her name. But there were so many things unspoken between the two of you, so many insecurities she hadn’t even begun to face yet.

Hyun-Ju wondered if you’d stay, knowing that she still had so far to go. Relationships were an unexplored territory for her, a place she’d never been. She was terrified and exhilarated at the same time, her hands shaking as she readied for bed.

Her transition journey wasn’t over, and she hadn’t even cracked the surface of the lifetime of negative emotions and thoughts she had stored away. She hoped you’d stay with her while she figured this out, she hoped you could navigate this new journey together. You meant more to Hyun-Ju than she would ever be able to express. You were the girl who thought she had a beautiful smile, the person who, for the first time in her life, made her feel unstoppable.

[bloodyknucklesforme]

Pomegranate | Nikolai x F!Reader

Chapter 2

Your second meeting with Nikolai

cw: cw: dark fic, dubcon/noncon, reader is being trafficked, human trafficking, blow jobs, piv, abusive relationships, shower sex, he gives her alcohol to calm her down

Masterpost

You knew the drill this time. All your clothes taken off, this time folded, and left in a stack on the floor. The panties and bra he left you were still too small and were a light pink this time. He must have a collection somewhere, hopefully one he bought rather than gathered. The door beeped and unlocked. 

“Kotenok, come here,” He called down the hall from the living room. You hurried over, footsteps softened by the rugs he had laid everywhere. “Ahh, there you are. Prekrasnyy”

He was standing by the bar, shaking a cocktail, shirtless with his various tattoos on display. “Do you drink?”

“Not normally, Sir.” You stood next to the bar, hands at your side. He poured out the shaker into a glass and slid it over to you. 

“I don’t want you shaking as much tonight.” He gave you a pointed look till you picked up the glass and took a sip. It was fruity and strong, burning a bit as you swallowed.

“Thank you, Sir.” 

“Go wait for me on the couch.” He turned his back to grab another bottle off the shelf for his own drink. 

His house was always a bit cold, making your nipples hard and your skin pimple. Your feet were always cold since he never gave you shoes. A double edged sword considering how others had made you pace for hours wearing six inch and higher heels. 

You sat on the couch trying to seem sexy, back straight with your chest jutting out and a leg extended across the cushions. Just be an object, a pretty object for him to stick his fingers into. 

A hand gripped the back of your neck, not painfully but forcibly. He held you still as you gasped.

“Finish your drink, Kotenok.” He tilted your head back so your eyes were on him. You drank it down in three quick gulps, maintaining eye contact with him. You watched carefully for any sign of pleasure or approval but nothing came. “No more shaking, yes?”

You nodded and he let go of your neck. The liquor sloshed around in your stomach. He had a heavy pour that was clear. 

He sat down and motioned for you to come over. He guided you till your head was laying on his lap, face up towards the ceiling. He held your neck again, massaging the sides of it. He smelled like oud and musk and tobacco and gunpowder.

“You fuck anyone else today?” He asked, taking a sip from his own drink glass. 

“Yes, Sir.” Don’t shake, you screamed at yourself. “I cleaned myself before coming. I remembered how you like it.”

He gave you a pleased sigh,  “Good girl.”

You tensed up as he sat his drink down on your forehead. “Don’t spill.”

One of his thumbs forced its way into your mouth, his ring catching on your teeth. You dug your nails into your legs, transferring all your anxious energy to other parts of your body. Both your hands fit around his one, holding it gently while you sucked on his finger. Condensation from his glass dripped down onto your forehead. 

“Are you afraid of me, Kotenok?” He asked, pulling his finger from your mouth only to flick it against one of your nipples. You bit down on your tongue to stop yourself from flinching. 

“No, Sir.” His hand trailed down to rest on your stomach. You avoided looking at him, not wanting to see if he caught your lie. You were in his den, laying between his teeth, praying he wouldn’t clamp down. You knew enough about the men who paid Arno to know he was dangerous. Outside of these meetings he exchanged blood for gold. The security, the art, the liquor, the sheets all cost money. A lot of money. The tattoos were the same you saw on Russian mobsters. 

“Are you afraid of Arno?”

Yes. Arno was in charge of the club, of you, and the rest of the girls. He was the one who trapped you into debt, threatened your safety if you tried to flee. His threats weren’t empty. A couple months ago a girl got as far as Glasgow before being dragged back here. He gathered everyone into the main club room and broke her legs. You never saw her again. You imagine she went to one of the clients that paid extra to break their toys. 

Arno slapped you across the face once because he thought you gave him a dirty look. He rarely fucked any of his girls. His drug habit prevented him from getting hard so it was more to save himself embarrassment than a lack of desire. On good days he kept to himself in his office.

“Kotenok, answer my question.” His fingers flexed against your stomach, claws ready to come out and gut you. 

“Yes,” you said meekly. 

“He take the money I gave you?”

“No.” It was tucked away safely in the lining of your coat. You told no one about it. A hundred years ago the Romanov girls sewed jewels into their petticoats. It caused the bullets to ricochet around the room when they were killed. Pound notes wouldn’t protect you the same but the coat was yours. You slept in it most nights, a better blanket than you’d ever been given. 

“Good.” He patted your stomach. “He’s a fucking siklo.”

“What does that mean?” The question slipped out before you could stop yourself.

“He’s a pussy,” he chuckled. “You can tell him I said that. Might not work well for you if you do though.”

He took the glass off your head and downed it one gulp. He took your chin between two fingers and turned your head to his crotch. He stopped you from sliding off the couch to get between his legs. “Want you up here with me.”

It was an awkward angle as you rolled over onto your stomach. His hand rubbed circles on your ass as you undid his trousers. You looked up at him through your eyelashes as you rubbed his cock through his boxers. His head was already tilted back, eyes closed. 

You wondered if you could bite his throat hard enough to kill before he could stop you. You took an anatomy class once, the vein was right up front, right? That’s where they always cut in movies. He’d kill you before he died or someone else would kill you afterwards. You could get a lick in before that. Get an ounce of flesh for revenge before he cracks your skull under his foot. 

He pinched your ass. You’d stopped moving.

“Sorry, Kolya.” You kissed his cock through the fabric. 

He hummed pleasantly, eyes still closed. You stroked him to half hardness before taking his tip into your mouth. You bobbed your head, sucking on his tip when you went up. He groaned softly, bucking his hips up as you took him deeper and deeper. His breath hitched when you licked his slit. He pinched your ass again when you took him out of your mouth completely, only to rub the spot apologetically when you took his balls into your mouth, stroking his length with your free hand. 

“Want to come in your mouth, Kotenok.” A hand tangled in your hair and pulled you upwards. You took him back into your mouth, lavishing your tongue around the head of his cock. His groaning turned to growls. He flooded your mouth with hot salt. He held your head still, lazily thrusting his twitching cock down your throat. 

When he moved his hand you finally pulled yourself off him and laid your head sideways on his thigh. 

His thumb tugged your lower lip down, opening your mouth for him to look inside. You stuck your tongue out, showing you swallowed him. 

“Did they feed you tonight?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

“No, sir. They didn’t.” 

He sighed, “Arno never takes care of his girls.”

He moved you off his lap and left. Your head was busy. You didn’t know what to think of him. He had been kind but you weren’t here because you wanted to be and he knew that. He knew Arno made money off your rape. He paid for it and presumably for the pleasure to do the same to other girls before you. You told yourself to remember that. No matter how nice he was to you, he was not a good man. He’d just as soon kill you as fuck you.

You sat up when he reentered the room, a plate in hand. A chicken breast and some roasted vegetables. Your mouth watered. Food at the club was protein bars and whatever snacks you could get your hands on. You didn’t remember the last time you ate meat. 

“Eat. You’ll need the energy.”

“Thank you.” You said, taking the plate as carefully as you could. Part of you was afraid he’d snatch it back before you could get one bite in. You ate slowly or so you thought.

“Hungry, Kotenok?” He chuckled.

“I’m sorry.” You rested your fork on the plate, face turning hot.

“Don’t be. You need to eat. Finish your meal.” He nodded at you.

You sat cross legged beside him, moaning as the juice from the chicken hit your tongue. He rubbed the back of your neck. There was a fascination in his eyes like he’d never seen someone eat before. 

“You don’t go hungry when you’re here, understood? I don’t want to hear your stomach growling when I’m trying to sleep.”

You nodded as you swallowed a mouth full of veggies. He wiped the corner of your mouth, “Good girl.”

When you finished eating he tucked you under his arm and turned on the news. His fingers played with the elastic of your panties. He leaned in to press his lips to your hairline, “Touch yourself. I want you wet for me.” 

You might have played it up, breathing heavy against his side as you played with your clit. Two fat, ringed fingers pushed their way into your mouth. You remembered his words from last week, “I don’t like liars.” You quieted down, sucking on his fingers obediently. His arm kept you pinned to him in a pseudo headlock. The hair of his arm tickled your face. You felt a pulse in your cunt, liquid heat pooling inside you. Last week’s lube was a courtesy, you understood that now. You rolled your hips a little, grinding against your hand. 

His cock was still out. You watched him grow larger and perk up under the curve of his stomach. Drool was seeping out around his fingers and dripping down your chin onto his leg. He hooked one of his fingers against the corner of your lips and pulled, letting a cascade of drool pour out with a chuckle.

“Want you to ride me, Kotenok.” He wiped his wet fingers on your stomach.

Straddling him on the couch was when you first became aware of how small you were to him. There was a burn in the muscles of your thighs. Your hips fit perfectly into his hands as he lowered you down on his cock. You held his shoulders tight, gasping and whining as each inch disappeared inside you. His eyes were dark, pupils blown out. It was a hungry look. Men often looked like they wanted to devour you, he was the first who might actually be able to do so. 

He let you take a moment as you sat flush with his hips. He rubbed your spine, murmuring in Russian against your cheek as he laid small kisses. He’d never kissed you before. You hadn’t moved yet and your thighs were shaking. You felt overstuffed, your pussy clenching around him as it adjusted. You let out a shuddered breath. 

He leaned back, arms stretched out across the back of the couch as you started to roll your hips. You tucked your head under his chin, riding his cock. Your ass smacking against his thighs. The head of his cock dragged against your walls and you couldn’t help but keen when his cock bumped against that spot inside you. 

“Yebat,” he groaned, a hand slapping against your ass. He suddenly gripped your hips and started thrusting up into you. “Pussy fucking made for me.”

You dug your nails into his shoulders, “Kolya…fuck…Kolya.”

Part of you hated how good his cock felt inside you. Hated that this is what you had to do to survive now. Hated how you shivered when his stubble rubbed against your cheek when he nipped at your earlobe. Hated how vulnerable you were yet you were moaning wantonly on his cock.

You slipped a hand between your legs to rub your clit, scissoring it between two fingers. His hot breath skated across your face,“Going to come on my cock again?”

“Yes, Kolya,” You cried. You hardly knew how to discern between pretend and actual pleasure anymore. What want really was. You did want to come but you’d rather be alone with a toy between your legs rather than riding the cock of a large Russian man. A large calloused hand gently pushed yours away and began to rub your clit with fervor. 

“Come.” He ordered. You melted in his hold, your teeth dragging against his chest. Your thighs gave out, collapsing you fully on his cock. He fucked you through your orgasm, muttering about how tight you were. “Going to fill you up, Kotenok.”

He grabbed your hair and pulled your head backwards, your chins touching. “Open your mouth,” he breathed. You did and he spit into it. You kept your eyes on him as you swallowed. He grunted loudly, cum filling any space left in your cunt. 

He slumped against the couch while you did the same against his chest. His heart was beating wildly under the hair and tattoos. 

He kept you on his cock, lighting his cigar as he went soft inside you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and laid your head under his chin. He smelled good. You tried to let yourself relax. He’d turned the news off at some point, letting the two of you sit in silence. He laughed softly. You glanced up and he was staring down at you.

“You’ve made a mistake.” You opened your mouth to apologize, confused as to what you could have done in this moment. “You’ve made me like you too much. Going to call you back every Tuesday. You’re a good cocksleeve.” 

He made you another drink and then another. Then fucked you on the floor doggy style. He fucked your throat again after turning on a football match. You started to lose track of what was happening when he pushed you down onto the floor again. Several hours later you were splayed out on the rug, cum dripping out of you and “Kolya” coming out like a mantra. He heaved you up and over his shoulder.

“Did I tire you?” He chuckled, smacking your ass. Your head rolled listlessly as he carried you upstairs. 

He wiped you clean with a warm wet rag before pulling the comforter over you. You drifted off quickly. His bed was soft and warm, much more comfortable than the cot you slept on in the club’s basement. A lot of men didn’t let you sleep in their bed. One even handcuffed you to the couch for the night so he could sleep without worry. You woke up an hour later with Kolya’s arm around your middle, his nose buried in your hair. He didn’t grumble when you got up to drink water or use the bathroom. Only beckoned you back to him, pulling the covers back over the two of you. 

At one point woke up to him pulling one of your legs over his hips, cock sliding between your folds. 

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered. “Want you like this.”

Exhaustion pulled you back under easily even with his hips hitting your ass and his hand groping your breast.  

You woke up alone in bed. No tea left for you on the side table. Through the bathroom door you heard the shower running. You dragged yourself out of bed and to the bathroom, knocking on the door.

“Come in!” He called. 

The bathroom was so full of steam you could barely make sense of where anything was. A wet hand reached out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you into the shower. He pinned you to the wall of the shower while kissing you sloppily. It felt intimate in a way you weren’t familiar with. He cradled your face while stealing the air from your lungs. His knee slid between your legs and you felt his cock on your thigh.

“Dobroye utro,” he purred.

“Good morning…?” You guessed his words. 

“You learn quickly,” He grinned. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, opening your mouth for his tongue to slide in. Kissing clients was not a regular occurrence, wanting to kiss them back never happened. Yet here you were, moaning softly as his tongue tangled with yours. He rolled one of your nipples between his fingers. “Want you again.”

He fucked you against the shower wall, your legs wrapped around his middle as he bucked into you. You were sure you’d cut open his back with your nails. He sucked a mark against the crook of your neck. He moaned when you tugged on his hair. He came on the tiles only to pin you to them again and rub your clit till you were jelly. 

“You’re shaking again.” He said, holding you by an arm around your waist as he cleaned you both up with a washcloth. 

“I’m hungry,” you answered, honestly.

“Let’s get breakfast, then, yes?”

He got you a plush robe to wear.. He padded around the kitchen in his boxers. From your place atop the counter you watched him make batter and pour a small amount into a pan. He was making you crepes. 

His phone started ringing and he sighed as he looked at the screen. 

“Go wait in the dining room for me, okay, Kotenok.” You nodded and left quickly, hearing him switch to Russian on the phone. He sounded upset and you wondered if you were going to actually get food before leaving. 

You sat to the right of the head chair, resting your chin on the table as you waited. You could hear him get loud every so often. 

“Eat up and I’ll call your car.” He laid a plate in front of you. Two crepes layered with strawberry jam and whipped cream. He was tense, you could tell by the way his hand held the plate. 

“Everything okay?” A dangerous question. It was none of your business. Nothing to concern yourself with. You added quickly, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” 

“No, you shouldn’t have.” He rested a hand between your shoulder blades, at the base of your neck. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. My Kotenok’s just worried about me, yes?”

You nodded, looking up through your lashes. Sweet as a lamb you could be. Don’t shake. Don’t shake.  You took his hand and kissed his rings, “Yes, Kolya.”

“Eat your food.”He ordered, sitting down beside you with a cup of espresso in hand. 

“Thank you, Kolya.”

The bottom of one crepe was burnt. You ate it without a word.

He walked you to the front door this time. Kissed your shoulder as he took the robe off. 

“For you,” he handed you another stack of hundred pound notes. Six this time. You held it close to your chest. 

He pushed your hair from your face and kissed your cheek. “See you next week.”

He shut the door behind you, locking you out. You put your clothes on as quickly as you could before shoving the notes into the lining of your coat with the rest. 

The car was idling outside. 

“Hurry up,” Abel snapped. He was one of several drivers Arno had on hand. He was also the meanest. Acted like he was dropping off and picking up girls from the lap of luxury instead of the equivalent of a haunted house.

You stayed quiet in the backseat. You’d forgotten one of your socks.

You were hurried into the back door. Men and other girls moving around chaotically..

Someone grabbed your upper arm and yanked you roughly into a side room.

“At least he hasn’t fucked up your face,” Marcus said, holding your chin and moving your head around roughly. Despite being the reason you were in this situation he was still aggressively possessive of you. Hands clenched in fists whenever he saw you head to a client’s. “Whatever you did, Arno’s pissed. Expected to see you with broken teeth when you got back. ” 

“I…I didn’t do anything. He said he wanted to see me again.” You didn’t know his actual name. Kolya had to have been a diminutive of something but you didn’t know enough Russian to guess. He ripped the letter from your hands. He had sealed it with wax. Funny honestly. Probably knew that every man in this building was itching to climb over another for an extra dollar. 

“Let’s find out for sure, then.”

He dragged you down the hall in a bruising grip. 

“Arno! The Fixer’s bitch is back!” He knocked on the office door.

“Marcus, stop!” You hissed. You didn’t want to be in a room with Arno during one of his bad moods especially not if Marcus was intent on making it worse. 

The door opened. Arno barely scraped six feet tall but he was thin with a square jaw and blue eyes that always seemed blown out. It was no secret he had a nasty coke habit. He always looked a little strung out, a little manic. 

“There she is. ” He hung onto the frame of the door, looking over you and Marcus. He always seemed surprised to see you, like he forgot he’d imprisoned you. He grabbed the front of your coat and pulled you into the office with Marcus at your heels. 

You were shoved onto the couch in the office. Marcus sitting next to you with an arm around your shoulders, holding you against him.

Arno sat on his desk, seething.

“You know what Nikolai said to me today?”

“I don’t know.” You answered meekly, wringing your hands in your lap.

“He’s fucking giving me orders now. Said you weren’t allowed to fuck anyone twenty four hours before going to visit him.” Arno let out an incredulous laugh and threw his hands into the air. 

“He didn’t say anything to me.” You tried to assure. You never rocked the boat, just held onto your oar and hoped your life preserver worked. Marcus grabbed your arm roughly, almost pulling you into his lap. 

“I don’t believe you. I think you’re trying to milk him for everything. You suck his cock extra good? He’s sweet on you now?” Marcus laughed and pulled on your cheek. “Maybe I’ll send you back to him with my cum dripping out of you. How do you like that?”

“I didn’t ask for that.” You pleaded, looking at Arno desperately for some relief from Marcus’s taunts.

“He’s fucking with me,” Arno sighed, rubbing his face harshly. “He’s fucking fucking with me!”

He angrily slapped the lamp off his desk, sending it shattering against the wall. You leaned back against the couch. You had to get out of this room. 

Marcus released you and leaned back on the couch. “Just don’t send her back. What’s the old cunt going to do?”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Marcus.” Arno glared. You bit your tongue to hold back a laugh. “You know I can’t do that. We need his money. That’s why he’s fucking with us. Probably doesn’t even like her that much.”

“Hear that? Don’t get attached.” Marcus pulled on your cheek again. “Nikolai will dump you in a ditch soon enough. Right, Arno?”

He stared at you, blinking slowly, his brow furrowing in anger. He must have forgotten you were there. His brain barely making connections with his own eyes. 

“Get her out of here, Marcus! What the fuck is she even doing here!” Marcus jumped up and pulled you with him. “She shouldn’t be hearing any of this!”

“Sorry. You know how these sluts are. Nosey cunts” He shoved you out of the office, growling close to your face, “Wait for me in my office.”

His ‘office’ was a storage closet with an old desk in it. The door was slammed in your face. He was going to punish you for his own humiliation.  

Through your coat you felt the notes. You would get out of here. You would be your best for Nikolai. He would keep paying you and you’d get out of here. Get on a plane and never be seen again. You were getting out.  

[lndsismaeverything]

Drunken moments

Lnds men gets a little drunk and spills away their feelings at the moment ( MC is already in a relationship with him )

An: here I am writing another fic even though I don't wanna ᕕ(˵•̀෴•́˵)ᕗ took me 3 days to write this ...

Not proof read sorry for mistake and grammar issue. And some words

Xavier

You and Xavier are having a home hotpot. Just a little celebration form todays mission. It was his idea to eat hotpot in the new hotpot restaurant . But when y'all got there it was to crowded and have to wait 2 hours for a table.

Xavier was disappointed to say the least . It was late at night ,almost 10 pm already and he was really craving hotpot

" Xavier why not have hotpot at home? We can buy the ingredients at the store plush it be a lot cheaper and more food" you said looking at his gloomy expression turn into bright smile

" yea, it would be just the two of us too "

The two of you bought the ingredients and headed straight to your apartment since you have all the equipment for the hotpot

No later did you pulled out the alcoholic peach drink you bought a few days ago that was sitting in the fridge, nothing is better then having a cool drink with hotpot on a chilly night

Xavier didn't usually drink but today was an exception and was worth it after defeating a wonderer

I don't know if Xavier can hold his liquor or not judging by his appearance he looks like he'll be knock out cold after a few glasses. Or he can hold it every well since she's been living for over 214yrs on earth now

But let's say he's weak to alcohol for now-

Xavier cheeks are dusted with a hue of pink he should stop drinking while he's still sober. But he can't because of the delicious hotpot u made goes so well which this nice refreshing alcoholic peach drink

After cleaning up the table with the help of your boyfriend you decided to settling on the sofa, to watch a some random comedy video

" Xavier I think u have enough to drink " you said to your boyfriend and grabbing the alcoholic drink and put it on the coffee table, which he protested but let it go

You lay on the sofa , switching from show to show not knowing that Xavier stared at you lovingly. The next moment Xavier lean toward you and kissed your cheeks

It caught you in surprised of the sudden affection of his just now " you look pretty bunbun " Xavier wrapped his arm around your waist and snuggled close

You just smile at him realizing he's a bit drunk but also a bit sober but not completely.

" thank you for the delicious hotpot " his voice so gentle yet soothing

" can we hotpot like this everytime? " he said looking up at you as you played with his soft fluffy hair

" yes of course " you replied, your hand cupped his cheek as you draw small circles.Letting go he plopped his head back on your thighs snuggling close and holding you tighter making you laugh as it tickles

" my honey is the best person in the universe. And not only is she strong, beautiful , kind, trustworthy , independent and a bit stubborn sometimes . She also an amazing cook and Baker."

"I love her so much , my little starlight "

"Your my brightes star in my univers. Beaming brightly when I miss you. Reminding me that I'm not alone "

with that Xavier fell asleep. You turn off the TV and join him holding him tight as he lay on too of you

Both of you woke up from the sofa with back pain.

Zayne

You and zayne just got out of the bar and headed straight home.

Of course zayne didn't drink but that didn't mean you didn't. It was a bummer that zayne didn't enjoyed the free cocktail that the hospital will pay later on . Congratulating zayne for having the title of the youngest doctor that maded it so far in his career as a cardiac surgeon.

The small part only included zayne colleagues and you .

Greyson try to convince zayne to at least have one glass or a beer but zayne refused saying " I'm responsible for taking y/n home "

After zayne dropped you off home you invited him over saying you got him a gift for him. Grabbing the gift from th kitchen table you handed to him and congratulated him on his achievement

He open the gift and it was chocolates

" may I ?" He asked you told him it's his and he could eat it now if he wanted. Knowing zayne sweet tooth he immediately devoured 3 of them while you get something to go along with the chocolate and-

You forget to tell him those aren't just any regular chocolates

" zayne-" your cut off by the sight of him, cheeks tinted pink hes already unwrapped his 4th chocolate already

" these chocolate... I never tasted something like his before..its quite unique ..it taste like Cherry's and grapes.." he popped the the chocolate in his mouth

You told zayne that these chocolate has wine infuse in them. That's why it's taste like grapes and a hit of cherry

each chocolate ball contains 13% alcohol and are meant to enjoy slowly with something salty like ham or cured meat

" how many did you have already? "

" this is my 4th one "

Thinking he has enough already for one night you take the box out of his hands and settled it on the table

You let your boyfriend stay for the night as he can't drive, having eaten a lot of chocolate

You dragged him to your bedroom as he's in a daze looking at you with such fondness. After his shower you have him some spare clothes he left you in case he's staying over

Zayne, siting on the edge of the bed watches you gently dry his hair. He hasn't spoken much since he ate the chocolates which made you a bit worried

" dear, is everything alright ? You seem at a daze, you haven't spoken much since you at the chocolates "

Zayne just pulled you on his lap and started giving you soft butterfly kisses on your face and neck before replying

" it's just that you seem so beautiful that I consider myself lucky to have met you "

"Your existing in my life is everything to me , I can't imagine my life without you by my side...''

"Your my the warmth to my heart, with you I experienced summer in snowy blizzard"

" you're like my precious flower that can survive. in the winter"

" also I want my flower to be careful and not hey hurt during mission . I don't want to see her coming to the hospital injured "

After sharing a moment with your beloved snowman both of you settled to bed , zayne spoons you closely in hin arms kissing the top of your head before whispering " goodnight "

Rafayel

Rafayel avoid drinking during his art exhibition. Especially when someone hands him some wine , wanting to toast him for his great success as young artists

Rafayel doesn't drink the wine as it might be spiked or something. But he except the glass and carefully examinen the wine before cheering with some business men and taking a sip

He's very careful with his surroundings, the moment he say you coming through he excuses himself to be with you

" you late miss body guard "

You apologize and explained that the wonderer you delt today took longer then you expected

" what's important now is that your here "

The art exhibition almost lasted for 4hours, you where by rafayel side the entire time as his request for making up to him for being late.

Rafayel having to meet a lot of people congratulate and toasting him for his newest work , grew more and more red as he takes sip after sip of his wine

Being by your boyfriend as he spoke with some important investors and buyers you noticed Rafayel getting less and less sober

Something wasn't right here, you felt uneasy why was there only wine served and not other drinks?

And the wine they give out isn't weak one either. You saw on the bottle it was 17% alcohol

Feeling worried you looked at Rafayel, you can feel Rafayel getting annoyed and wanted to leave as more people approach him and want to speak with him bout his art you decided its time to go

" let's us give you a toast, to our partner ship Mr. Rafayel ! " they raised there glass before Rafayel could take another sip you took his glass from him and-

" sorry gentlemens I'll drink on Rafayel behalf, he had enough for today " they understand and you leave with your boyfriend

You hold Rafayel hands the inter way out, Rafayel couldn't help but blush, admiring you as you took him away from those annoying people

You called Thomas telling him your taking Rafayel home as he's clearly getting drunk and it was probably someone plan wanting Rafayel to get drunk so they can write something about him and publishing it on the news.

Thomas understand and ended the art exhibition earlier then expected

You call a cab and headed to Rafayel house ( island )

You unluck his house and guide Rafayel inside

" you know what miss bodyguard , your the best bodyguard there is"

" without you my world would be full of black and greys "

" I miss you when your not around "

" I hate it when you keep me waiting "

" but I love it even when your late you try to make an effort to come see me and make it up to me "

" you're my special pearl from the deep sea"

You stayed with Rafayel for the night, the next morning thosmas blew up Rafayel phone asking him to check the news

The news about 'having a secret relationship with his bodyguard?' With a picture of the two of you holding has while waiting for a cab

Sylus

You don't even know how sylus got drunk or at least he looks like he's drunk . When you where at the bace you heard them coming back. So you decided to great them at the door and asked how it go

But you where met with sylus disheveled look like his been hit by a truck

" I'm going to my room don't bother me" sylus said passing through you

You ask luke and kierran about him as they just came from a business deal

You asked like and kieren if sylus drink got spiked . They laugh at you, you think the great leader of onychinus got his drink spiked and fell for it ?

It does sound ridiculous because you know he can handle his alcohol.

Like explain that sylus in hailed some gass that enemy planned , supposedly to make you weak and not able to think straight kinda like alcohol

" yea boss man got hit with ton of gass that's why he looks like that " kierran informed you

" don't worry boss won't go down that easily it will wear off in a couple of hours "

you headed straight to sylus bedroom to check on him but you go to the kitchen counter first to get two glasses of gin fiz that you prepared earlier

You don't know if it's a good idea or not but you already made them anyway

Holding two glass you couldn't knock on the door your about to call for sylus until the door open for you to come in

" didn't I say don't bother me?" stood beside his record player in a robe clearly stated he just got out of the shower

" but you still open the door for me " you settled the two glasses of gin fizz at the coffee table at taking as seat before turning to him

" I heard form like and kierran. How are you doing? Everything okay?"

He just sighed and pick up the glass and drinks it enjoying the refreshing drink before sitting next to you and shared about what happened

" have I ever told you when your with me on the meetings times goes faster? "

"But today was particularly slow bec you where to there so I told them to hurry it up as they where waisting my time. They didn't took that lightly so they grew a surprise attack "

" I was pleased as it turn out like that because I didn't needed them anyway "

" the moment the gass took a but affect on me on the ride to the bace my mind was occupied by you "

" I couldn't stop thinking about you "

" your laughter, your smile, you scent ,everything "

He finished his glass and looked at you, his eyes soft as he gently caress your cheek

" your everything to me..."

" without you I feel trapped in a cage , living out life without it's full potential"

"With you around, I like feel the chains around me being broken setting me free "

" you are my key to my cage..."

" my kitten, my sweetie, my miss hunter, my beloved...."

He's words are sweet and he ment everything he said but you couldnt help but tease him a bit

"Who are you and what have you don't to my sylus" you said you couldn't hold in your laugher .

Sylus just chuckled and shook his head .It was rare for sylus to be sharing his feelings and thoughts

" I wonder if it's the gun fizz fault or the gass you in heiled" you wonder tapping your chin

"Gues we'll never know the answer'' Sylus just took both your hand and gently lean in to kiss your lips

And took another

And another

And another

Before you giggle at him, removing you hand from his , you looped it around his neck before kissing him back

After you finish your glass sylus carried you to him bed , he wants to be sleeping next to you and waking up next you everyday and every night

He carefully lifted the blanket up and holds you tight before humming as soft tune that both of you fell asleep within minutes

[charles-leclerizz]

🏎️ ๋࣭ ⭑blue views

🏁 Pairings : Carlos Sainz X fem! Reader

🏁 Warnings : smut [nothing major, listed at the end of the writing], fluff, stress [which is aliviated by the smut]

🏁 Word Count : 3.6k words (3612 words)

🏁 Summary : It’s time to celebrate! For everyone else that is. You, on the other hand, will be planning your’s and your fiance’s “engagement week” festivities, until you die. That is, until an impromptu intervention is planned.

🏁 translations via radio comm below

🏁 credits : word dividers by @heavenlayt

🏁 Music player : Good to be by Mark Ambor

“Carlos!” You shouted out, leaning back against the heel of your soft wedges as you reached behind you for more cocktail glasses. The sound of your fiancé’s loafers against the terracotta staircase echoed throughout the ground level as he made his way to the kitchen, where you were working alongside half a dozen cooks.

“Si, Mariposa?” He came up behind you, plucking the crystal margarita glass from your fingers and taking a sip of the peachy, carbonated concoction that you had masterfully created. You giggled when he hummed happily and kissed your neck, “It’s delicious.”

“Ay, Ay, Señor. Tienes que esperar a la luna de miel” An elderly voice scolded from your left followed with a hollow bonk. Carlos hissed, rubbing the back of his head where a thick wooden rolling pin had struck him playfully, “You wound me, Maria.”

He followed with a pained “Literally.” When Maria had merely shot him a fond look over her shoulder as she went back to washing the tomatoes in the deep-set ceramic sink.

“You’re absolutely sure that everyone got the invites?” You leaned down to inspect the dozen drinks that you had made, “Because we invited at least 60 people, and if I make 60 drinks and there are not exactly 60 throats present to ingest them. You are going to remain abstinent until we’re married.”

Carlos stared at you open mouthed, a betrayed expression overtook his face, “So you would choose Maria’s wishes over mine? muy cruel.” He then bought his hands up from your waist to brush your hair from your shoulder, dragging his fingers up your arm-he slipped off the thin spaghetti strap of your white, cotton summer dress to press short, sweet kisses on your skin, “I mean can you really resist this?” He reasoned.

“It would be very easy Mi Amour.” You harrumphed, ignoring the tingling shocks that fluttered beneath your skin at the drag of his lips against your shoulder. You jolted forward when you felt his other hand travel from your waist, down to the front of your dress, “Carlos- I have so much to do. I mean I promised Alex and Lily I would make trifle for dessert, but then your parents have this one friend who hates custard! I mean did you hear the story, he literally puked, and I will not have him puke in my engagement party, nope. Not on my watch.”

You wagged your finger in the air before grabbing another five glasses from their upside-down position on the kitchen island where you were working. Taking the washcloth that sat comofortably in the front pocket of your plaid apron, you began wiping away the droplets of water from the crystal before continuing to babble about your long list of duties for the upcoming week of festivities.

“So, I need to also make these cute fruit tarts that I made that one time. But then I realised that Charles and Max hate kiwi, and the whole dessert is basically that, so for them I’m making this great chocolate gateau, the one at the restaurant? Since they really fucking liked that one.”

You grumbled out the last part, crushing up your freshly picked strawberries that had previously been resting in a metal strainer along with a cream, cotton cover up to keep them moist. The marble mortar grinded against the matching pestle as the sweet fruits reduced to a thick paste.

“On top of that the other like, 40 guests have very specific wants, so I have 20 different things to make along with this signature drink that Jenni designed for us! You know her, right? the bar tender at the other restaurant in Monaco, I learnt how to make it, and you said its good. It’s good right?”

You add a few cups of carbonated water to the pinkish paste in front of you, before turning back to Carlos, who had been patiently listening to you rant- mainly due to the fear that if he were to stop, you would give his ear the same treatment as the berries that remain crushed beneath you, “Si, mi mariposa. Very good.”

You sighed before fully spinning around to face him, resting your back on the dark wood counter, looping your hands around his neck, “I’m sorry Carlito.” You brush a singular strand of hair that fell from its carefully crafted style onto his forehead, “This isn’t very fun for you, is it?” You move onto your tiptoes to reach his cheek.

“Nonsense, I have Papa and Guillermo coming to help with the decorations outside, I think Blanca and Mama are also coming- to help.” He chuckles when you groan happily and bring his head down to kiss his lips graciously.

“Thank you, Mi Amour.” You murmur against his mouth, running your fingers through his hair as his arms came to circle your waist, pulling you against his chest. You sigh against him, melting in his embrace as you barely manage to hold yourself up and anchor yourself on his broad shoulders that strain against the baby blue polo top, he chose to wear.

“AY, SEÑOR,” Maria bumped Carlos slightly as she came rushing through the walkway, trotting determinedly through the low, exposed brick archway and outside to the patio area that was protected from the morning sunrays by the lattice structure that stood tall whilst being overtaken by winding ivy.

Beneath this, Maria sat down at least 3 trays full of freshly sliced vegetables, sun drying them as preparation for the multiple dishes that would be served that evening, “Si no estás aquí para aportar nada útil, sal de la cocina.” She screeched whilst heading to the other side of your estate, towards the large garden that housed many seasoned plants, ready with multiple fruits and vegetables for plucking.

“I think she will cook me next.” He shuddered before laying his forehead on yours, “Do not worry, Mariposa. Everything will turn out fine.”

“Why did I suggest an engagement week.” You pouted, nuzzling your head into his chest, to hide away from all the responsibilities you had brought onto yourself. You shake your head wildly, causing flurries of hair to escape from the bun you had messily done up, “All I know is that it must go well. Maria will for sure have a heart attack if it doesn’t,”

“I still think it’s a good idea” He comforts you, until the melodic sound of the doorbell resounds throughout the house, and he detaches from you, “That must be the back-up.” He winks at you as he jogs off to open the large, rustic door. You watch from the kitchen as Carlos laughs boisterously whilst embracing his family.

His mother and sister quickly wave him off, ushering the men out to the acres of back garden they have yet to decorate to approach you.

Blanca dances up to you, wiggling her arms and hands excitedly as she beams at your exhausted face, “There she is! Beautiful bride-to-be, our mariposa.” The knee length dress she chose skims her legs as the burgundy silk falls from her shoulders delicately, she hugs your neck tightly, swinging you both side to side whilst you flail around.

“Hola, diabla.” You chuckle, catching your mother-in-law’s eyes, you wait until Blanca removes herself from you for Reyes to do the same, but instead of violently rotating you like a ragdoll, she rubs your back and coos sympathetically.

“Ay mi muñeca, you look too tired to be a blushing bride.” She moves her arms from being drawn around your neck to rub your shoulders.

“What can I say? There’s too much to be done for me to be blushing.” You shrug, already going back to pouring out 10 more drinks, adding to the sea of glasses in front of you.

Blanca tuts disapprovingly, “This is not what being engaged is meant to be, it’s meant to be fun! And new! And sexy!” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively, ignoring her mother who had picked up your to-do list and hid her face in the paper.

“Blanca, please.” Reyes rolled her eyes, “But she’s not wrong.” She reaches for a spare apron that hung rejected on the back of the pantry door.

“No, mamá please,” You attempt to snatch the apron away from Reyes, who tuts disapprovingly and had already begun to collect multiple utensils from your spacious kitchen whilst talking quickly with the cooks who had been diligently making progress on the rest of the menu, “I can’t possibly allow you to do my work.”

Blanca plucked the neatly tied bow around your waist, undoing the stained, pale blue cotton that protected your dress, “No, your job is to relax, and let my culo brother treat you nicely. Champagne, strawberries, chocolate.” She listed off the aphrodisiacs one by one, pushing you through the living room and up the stairs. You braced yourself on the railing as you let her guide you through the landing.

“I have all of that in the food that I should be making,” You whined, stomping your foot, and swivelling to level her with your eyes, “There is just too much to do before tonight. And the boys don’t even know what to do for decorations.”

Blanca swatted her hand through the air, as if physically plummeting away your doubts, “You’ve had the entire family added on your Pinterest board.” You snorted at that, but pressed your lips together when she shot you a look, “If I can’t whip them into shape, consider me a bad sister from day 1.” She planted her hands on her waist before pointing at your bedroom door, “Now either you can start yourself a bath, or I will.”

You harrumph and dig your feet into their spot on the newly waxed, wooden floors beneath you, “I see how it is.” Blanca squints her eyes at you, “Fine, I see how it is.”

You half expect her to push you into the room, but instead she leans over the banister and shouts, “CARLOS !!”

“Blanca!” You gasp, grabbing her dress and tugging her back from the beam, “W-Why would you?” You splutter.

“AY CARLOS !!” She continues to screech until you slap a palm over her mouth, careful of the nude brown lipstick she had worn.

“Si diabla?” Your fiancé shouts back up, already at the base of the staircase. Blanca licks your hand, causing you to yelp and jump back, giving her the perfect opportunity to answer, “Your fiancé is anxious as fuck.”

“What else is new?” He chuckles, hand braced on the railing as he emerges from the winding staircase. Carlos takes in the new scene, you are tackling Blanca onto the floor, she’s squealing whilst attempting to wrangle free from you, tummy first on the floor, “Mi amour, if you are going to leave me for my sister...” He starts, crossing his arms and tilting his head at you.

“You both are insufferable.” You grit out, twisting the knob to your bedroom, wating for Carlos to step inside. He stops momentarily when Blanca darts an arm out and begins to ramble to him in Spanish, Carlos answers just as quickly before his sister reaches up to smack the underside of his head.

“Blanca!” He shouts out after her, but she ignores him and sprints downstairs to assist with the preparations. Carlos turns back to you, slumping forward to rest his head against the door frame that you were currently leaning on, arms folded amusedly as you looked at him from under your eyelashes. He pivots his neck, gazing fondly into your eyes, “You’re pretty.” He mumbles, bringing a limp hand up to rest on your cheek, thumb moving soothingly against your face. You lean into his touch, “So are you” You breathe out, leaning upwards to ghost your lips over his.

This moment was merely poetic, the two of you, finding respite in the chaos within each other. His soft touch as he leaned forward for more, you grant it, because you craved him as deeply as he did for you. The astringent sweetness of his lips against yours and the heavenly feeling of his fingers cradling your hips made you moan out as he caught you weight when your knees gave out from beneath you.

The door creaked shut behind the two of you, your palms digging into the waistline of his shorts to tug his shirt out, his fingers dance down from your neck to the large cut-out of your dress that showed off the curve of your spine. Carlos broke away from you momentarily, his eyes still shut as he chuckled when you whined, chasing his lips desperately, “Jump,” He murmured, bracing himself by tugging you close and digging his fingers into the back of your thighs.

You complied, hopping into his secure hold before attaching your mouth to his once again, nipping at his full bottom lip. Carlos passed through the bedroom with ease, his muscle memory allowing him to walk underneath the long archway that led to your shared bathroom. He released you gently, his fingers pinching the hem of your dress on your way down, he bunched up the flowy linen, dragging it up to your waist and tugging it over your head- leaving you in just a pair of white, lacy underwear.

You laughed slightly, your hair mussed at taking over half of your face, “Carlos” you huff out. He laughs at your annoyance, gently moving the strands out of your eyes before tracing the dips and curves of your chest and stomach with feather-light touches.

Sighing, you tilt your head back, allowing him to press his lips against the column of your neck. You loop your hands around his neck, stumbling backwards towards the sink whilst bringing him with you. Carlos hoists you up and onto the counter, finally stepping back to gaze at your naked body, his eyes ravish you, the stiff peaks of your breasts and curve of your stomach, you watch him intently when he finally makes his way down to your panties, a damp patch already forming.

Carlos approaches you once again, his breath fresh and minty against your skin, “Tan bonita.” He compliments, trailing warm, open mouth kisses on your collar bone, starting from your shoulder until he reaches your sternum, “Tan deliciosa.” He moves to your breast, decorating it with his own purple-ish love marks, he littered them across until he enveloped your nipple into his mouth, his tongue licking against the pebble until it hardened beneath his attention.

Carlos turned his attention to the other whilst his other hand slipped beneath the elastic of your underwear, his middle finger teasing your wet slit, “all for me?” he moaned against your breast.

“of course.” You bury your hand in his hair, arching into his touch before he lowered to his knees in front of you.

“F-fuck” you whine, biting your lip harshly as he settles between your legs, he shucks you closer, harshly tugging you to the edge of the counter as he inches his mouth closer, hot breathe settling on the front of your underwear. You arch your back at the feeling, fingers teasing your peaked nipple, “please,” you whisper, eyes darting down to where Carlos had begun to lave lazily at your newly soaked panties.

“Please what? Huh?” He whispers, tongue darting out to push further into your throbbing hole. You whine, thighs threatening to clamp shut around his head, your hand inches down to shyly tug at his hair and guide him closer to your leaking cunt, “can’t even talk now? ‘s okay mariposa. I’ll take care of you.” He promises, laying one of your legs over his shoulder.

You breathe hitches slightly when you feel him drag his lips up your hip, only for his teeth to sink into your underwear band, trailing it off you.

You scrunch your eyes with a gasp when his kisses trail up from your ankle, to your calf and towards the inside of your thigh- you growl playfully when you hear him chuckle and coo up at you, “you were just stressed...” he pressed an open mouthed kiss to your skin, “being so diligent..” he continued, tongue ghosting over your leaking folds, “so perfect.”

“Carlos,” You moan, scratching your nails against his scalp, “you’re being mean. Hah. It’s not good to be mean to your future wi-“you cut yourself off with a scream, well, a muffled one, you managed to cover your agape mouth with your hand. He dove into your sex, tongue searing through you as he fucked the muscle steadily into you, curling it to poke gently at the sensitive, spongy part within you.

Carlos let his eyes flutter shut, the sweet taste of you staining itself onto his tongue, how he could stay like this forever, fuck the dinner, he only ever wanted to taste you. Only you.

“taste so good,” he panted against you, his tongue nudging your clit, in an oh-so delicious way that made you bite down on your fingers to stop your needy moans leaking down from the open, semi-circle window towards your in-laws, who were dedicatedly preparing your back garden to host a multitude of people.

“uh uh mariposa, quiero oír tu voz.” He reached up with one hand, tugging your palm away from your still open mouth.

“I-“you gulp heavily, trying to unscramble your mind from its mush state, “I- wan’ want more, need you to- do something please.” You bring your other leg to his shoulder, locking him between your limbs.

Carlos huffs out a laugh, biting playfully at your tender skin, he brings up one hand laying his fingers gently against your pussy lips, creating a ‘V’ to spread them wide, exposing the sensitive area to the midday warmth. And then, he spat, a fat string slowly drips from his mouth to land directly on your hole, he gawks at it with interest, his large puppy-dog eyes shining with lust.

You blush and cover your face, “come on- please? I’ve been soo good, did ever’thin you wanted.” You babbled, gyrating your hips against his face, baiting him into pleasuring you again until the delicious wave reached the crown of your skull until the tips of your toes.

“have you? You been my good girl? Hm?” He arches a brow at you, but stops you from answering when he lays his tongue flat against your clit, gently shaking his head side to side until you begin to shake and whine, “yeah, I know mi amor, se siente bien, ¿sí?” he whispers, prodding you cunt with his index finger, “you want it, don’t you?”

You hummed, eyes widening as though he had proposed all over again, “yeah, come on, please, pretty please with a- ahh,” once again, he wouldn’t let you finish your pleading, instead, he answered you with your prize, him pushing his fingers into you, your wetness dripping down into his palm and along his wrist.

Obscene squelches echoed through the bathroom, along with explicit sounds of his knuckles slapping against your skin and your high-pitched moans.

“yes- oh, don’t stop.” You sobbed, tears pricking at your eyes when he thrusted in a second finger, stretching you out whilst he crooked his digits to continue stimulating your g-spot mercilessly.

“don’t plan on it,” he promised, delving back in for another sacred taste, he tongue worked wonders against you, drinking in your nectar as though from the gods- letting in slip down his throat graciously. You groaned and bit your lip harshly, arching your back at angles that chiropractors would wince at until you could feel that euphoric feeling begin to bloom within your stomach.

Your walls fluttered around Carlos’ fingers, making him smirk against you and continue his movements, hungrily licking and slurping at you until your toes curled and eyes crossed over, “fuck,” you grit out, gasping laboriously as the tight knot finally snapped and torrential pleasure rained over you.

“te entendí my love,” He crawled over you, bracing himself above with his hands planted on the thick, white marble countertop you were currently blissed out on.

You brought your shaky hands up to his face, kissing him gently, “what about-hah, what about you,” you panted, wrapping your arms around him, continuing to softly brush your lips against his face. His temple, stubbled cheek, and muscled neck.

“We still have-“ He looked down at the heavy, silver Rolex on his wrist, “40 minutes, until Blanca comes hunting for us.” Carlos looked over to the floating bath that sat in front of the Juliet balcony, “and we have a bath.”

“That is just by a huge ass window,” You reminded him, glancing over to the open doors, revealing the intricate black grill of the balcony along with the pristine view of your tall trees that lined the well-kept entertaining space of your garden.

“Well, I doubt they don’t know what’s going on, I mean, my sister probably told them to leave a box of condoms outside.” He shrugged.

“In that case,” You started, your low whisper a mere breath of warm air between the two of you. Marinating hard and heady eye contact with him, you reached down to take his hand in yours, then slipped the two fingers that still dripped with your wetness, into your mouth.

Carlos stared at the sight, a short, strangled noise leaving him when you popped out his digits with an all too innocent noise, “Better make the most of it,” You leaned back against the mirror, hand open for him to carry you.

He groaned, shaking his head slightly before hoisting you in his arms, “best 40 minutes of my life.”

[Smut warnings : alot of kissing, fingering, sucking, love-bites, fem! oral recieving, fem! fingering recieving.]

📻 Kcccchh.... come in.... come in...translatiion available...over

📻 Kchh...Spnish..to engli..sh....over

Ay, Ay, Señor. Tienes que esperar a la luna de miel - Oh, Oh, Lord. You have to wait for the honeymoon

muy cruel - very cruel

AY, SEÑOR - OH, SIR

Si no estás aquí para aportar nada útil, sal de la cocina - If you're not here to contribute anything useful, get out of the kitchen.

mariposa - butterfly

Hola, diabla - Hello, devil

Ay mi muñeca - Oh, my doll

Si, diabla? - Yes, devil?

Mi amour - My love

Tan deliciosa - So delicious

Tan bonita - So beautifull

quiero oír tu voz - I want to hear your voice

te entendí, mi amor, se siente bien, ¿sí? - I understood you, my love, it feels good, yeah

📻 Kchhhhh.loosing sign....al.....kcchh....over and out...

[xuchiya]

"taste it from my lips" || kang yeosang || ice on my teeth (+18 mafia) ||

| genre: mafia! yeosang x partner! reader | mentions: cursing. creampie. wine drinking. angry yeosang[not to reader]. 5 years age gap. reader is 5 years older to Yeosang. unprotected (tap it up!)

You were not the type of person to drink cocktails, beer, or wine. It simply wasn’t in your system or personality to indulge in such beverages, even during occasions like weddings or birthdays. You preferred keeping yourself clean from those habits, maintaining a healthy life of drinking citrus juice or water instead.

But the moment you met Yeosang, a man of poise and challenge yet such a soft person towards you the moment he laid his eyes on your exquisite form, your steadfast aversion to drinking faced its first real challenge. It started innocently enough during a lively occasion. Amidst the chatter of friends by the bar of the hotel of a birthday of a friend you were attending, Yeosang handed you a cup filled with beer, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. You politely declined, offering him a gentle smile.

“I don’t drink,” you said simply.

His surprise was evident, his brows lifting for a moment before his lips curled into a soft, understanding smile. He took the cup back without hesitation, handing it off to Wooyoung, who eagerly accepted. Yeosang’s reaction made you feel safe, like your choices were valid and respected.

Despite you being older than him, yet he made you feel that everything you feel is alright and valid.

"Very well, my dear." His voice was slur yet cool as he took a seat next to you.

The second time, however, was a little different. It was just you and Yeosang, sharing a quiet evening on the night of your anniversary. The warm glow of candles lit the room, casting a soft, intimate light over the table. Yeosang walked in carrying a bottle of fine red wine, its deep ruby color glinting invitingly.

"Dear, I bought wine!" He paused in his tracks as soon as he realized—perhaps he had forgotten—that you didn’t drink. His eyebrows furrowed and the way his eyes close tight shut is enough to know he had totally forgotten as he set the bottle down on the table, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

Before he could say anything, you stepped forward and pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek. “It’s okay, Yeo~ You can have it while we watch,” you said warmly, your words brushing away his discomfort.

Yeosang’s expression softened, his shoulders relaxing as he gave you a grateful smile. “Are you sure? I can put it away if you’re not comfortable.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine. Besides, I think I’m curious.”

That caught him off guard. His eyes widened slightly, curiosity of his own surfacing as he watched you glance at the bottle. You rarely, if ever, showed interest in alcohol, and yet here you were, eyeing the wine with an almost childlike wonder.

As the evening unfolded, the two of you settled on the couch, a movie playing softly in the background. Yeosang poured himself a glass of wine, sipping it occasionally as he relaxed beside you. You, on the other hand, found your eyes drifting toward the glass every so often.

It was until your movie night was cut off by a call from his slacks that he changes into his usual sweatpants. With a heavy sigh and sympathy look you gave him as he walks towards his clothes, ruffling through the pockets and answered with a stone-cold tone.

"Better be valid or I'll have you drink your own blood." Despite it being a whisper, it sent chills down your spine upon remembering who you are dating.

Yeosang, is what they all call the 'Bishop chess piece', his long-range attacks. His skills in technology made him go beyond the firewall and can check and capture major delicate so easily.

Of course, with the help of his longtime partner in crime, Wooyoung.

As he speaks on the phone, your eyes drift from the wine glass he is holding on the other hand. He swirls it easily as he took a sip and speaks once again.

It intrigues you on how he is easily balancing his life as being the hacker-tech of ateez and being a lovely soft boyfriend towards you. You sigh softly as curiosity was a powerful thing, and tonight, it seemed to have you firmly in its grasp.

You have heard various rumors whenever you mention Yeosang's name and many of them are from women that he "used" to be with when in reality, they were just woman in their delusion era.

How his cock had hit each spots that sent every woman squirting, his rough hands smacking leaving prints to your skin. And that peak your curiosity as Yeosang has always been the gentle type towards you.

When Yeosang had ended the call and sat down beside you, not before taking a huge sip on his wine and set his glass down on the table. Suprising Yeosang, you leaned forward, your brow furrowing slightly as you picked it up. The scent of the wine wafted toward you, rich and complex. You hesitated for a moment before sniffing it, trying to decipher its layers.

Yeosang noticed your curiosity and chuckled softly. “You can always try it, sweetheart,” he said, his tone reassuring. “Only if you want to, though.”

You glanced at him, your expression thoughtful. “What does it taste like?”

Yeosang’s lips pursed slightly, a familiar look of concentration taking over his face. It was the same look he had when he was trying to solve a puzzle or decide on a dessert. “This one’s a few hundred years old,” he said at last. “They say the older the wine, the sweeter it is.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming on your lips. “Like how we have a five-year gap?”

Yeosang’s cheeks flushed a deep red, and he immediately began waving his hands in protest. “I-I meant the wine!” he stammered, his voice tinged with panic. “Not us—well, I mean, not that it’s a bad thing, but—”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, your teasing remark having achieved its intended effect. His flustered state was endearing, and you leaned back against the couch, your laughter gradually fading into a soft chuckle.

“I’m just messing with you, Yeo~ Calm down,” you said, patting his knee affectionately.

Yeosang pouted, crossing his arms but unable to hide the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though the warmth in his voice betrayed his amusement.

"Well... it's sweet with a hint of bitterness, but since it’s aged, the sweetness outweighs the bitter notes," he explained thoughtfully. "You’ll notice the sweetness more in the aftertaste. It’s not too bitter, and it doesn’t linger for long."

You nodded, intrigued, and swirled the drink gently before handing the glass back to him. "So it is sweet?" He nodded. Yeosang took it from your hands and drank the remaining wine whilst your next move was he was not expecting. 

Seizing the moment, you cupped the back of Yeosang's neck, pulling him closer until your lips collided with his. His eyes widened in surprise as you parted his lips slightly, and the wine he hadn’t yet swallowed trickled onto your lips, some of it dripping down both your chins in a messy, intoxicating mix of sweetness and heat.

As the wine touched your tongue, you were taken aback by its flavor—just as Yeosang had described, sweet with only the faintest trace of bitterness. You pulled back with a soft hum, licking your lips as you murmured, “It does taste sweet.”

Yeosang blinked rapidly, still stunned, his mind trying to process what had just happened. A flush crept up his neck, spreading across his face as he watched you chuckle and look away. His body, now uncomfortably warm, felt an unfamiliar tension building within him—an urge for more of the intimacy you’d just shared.

Wordlessly, he reached out, his thumb brushing along your chin to wipe away the stray drops of wine before his hand lingered near your lips. His gaze darkened slightly as he watched you, utterly captivated, as your tongue darted out to swipe against his thumb.

A low, almost involuntary hum escaped him before he finally pulled back, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of shyness and a smoldering desire he couldn’t quite suppress.

"In my room and strip. Don't make me wait."

“O-Oh fuck … Yeosang .. baby slow down.” Your eyes had rolled back from pure ecstasy as he locked his fingers around your jawline as he slammed his hips back to yours aggressively, hitting from the back, on that same spot time and time. The sound of skin to skin echoes the chamber of your room, the change of temperature from your ragged breath and warm bodies had moist most of the windows inside— such spacious apartment yet every room and floor has marked by you and Yeosang fucking everywhere and every chances he gets.

Yeosang let out a dark chuckle as he leaned in close to your ear, “Don’t think about a single drop.” It wasn’t long Yeosang let a gasp-cry left his lips as he is nearing his climax; pulling out as quickly as before he slams back in after switching positions with you as Yeosang places both of your legs on one side of his shoulders.

Gripping your thighs tightly in his warm palm as his head throws back as his hips stills, the tip of his cock hitting the spongy spot as he spurts his cum all over your walls. Biting your lips as you grip your tits in your hand and the other on his thigh as you also come down from your high.

When Yeosang pulls out, he grabs each of your legs and lets them wrap around his waist before plunging back in. The overstimulation made you cry, tightly gripping on his muscle thighs, “Oh fuck!” He chuckles, leaning forward as he places his lips on your lips for a brief second before pulling away, “That’s my good mommy. Can Yeosangie have another round?”

[withthecolorizedkennedys]

Pleaassseeeeee, an angsty fic with a smutty ending??? (Either with Bobby or Jack)

Faithfully, Foolishly

synopsis: you thought jack kennedy loved only you, but the hidden toothbrush said otherwise. you came to scream, to cry, to leave, but you stayed, and let him fuck you like it might undo the truth.

word count: 3.4k

pairing: john f. kennedy x reader

rating: 18+; includes explicit sexual acts

tw: cheating, arguments

author's note: now THIS is some angst! i hope you enjoy!

It was the toothbrush that broke you.

Not the lipstick on his collar—you'd convinced yourself that was from an overzealous supporter at an event. Not the late nights—those belonged to politics, to strategy meetings with Bobby and the other aides. Not even the way certain secretaries smiled at him, knowing smiles that made your stomach twist.

No, it was the toothbrush. Pink. Delicate. Tucked behind yours in the master bathroom drawer of Jack's Georgetown townhouse.

You stood frozen, fingers still on the drawer pull, staring at the evidence. So ordinary. So domestic. The kind of thing that spoke of routine, of comfort, of someone who stayed the night often enough to need fresh breath in the morning.

Your toothbrush was blue. Jack's was green.

Pink didn't belong to either of you.

The bathroom suddenly felt airless, the marble countertop cold beneath your palm as you steadied yourself. You'd come to freshen up before Jack arrived home. He'd promised dinner tonight—just the two of you—a rare evening stolen from his Senate duties and policy preparations.

You closed the drawer carefully, as if the pink toothbrush might bite. In the mirror, your reflection looked the same. Pretty in the fresh-faced way Jack had once said reminded him of springtime. But something in your eyes had changed, hardened like ice forming over a pond.

When you heard his key in the lock forty minutes later, you were sitting in the living room, legs crossed at the ankle, wearing the navy dress he'd bought you in Paris. The toothbrush lay on the coffee table between you and the door.

"There's my girl," Jack called, his Boston accent warming the words as he shrugged off his coat. His smile was easy, confident—the smile that had first melted you at that Georgetown cocktail party last year. The smile that made you ignore the warnings from your college roommate: "Kennedy men don't settle for one woman."

You hadn't believed her. Jack had chosen you. Made you feel special. Different.

"Hello, Jack," you said, your voice steadier than you felt.

He crossed to kiss you, but stopped short when he saw what lay on the table. His hesitation lasted only a fraction of a second—most people wouldn't have caught it—but you'd spent months studying his face, memorizing every expression.

"What's this?" he asked, voice light, gesturing to the toothbrush.

"I was hoping you could tell me."

Jack's smile didn't falter, but it tightened around the edges. He moved to the bar cart instead of coming to you, pouring himself two fingers of scotch. "Must be from the cleaning lady. Probably left it."

"The cleaning lady uses our bathroom? Keeps her toothbrush with ours?" You kept your voice level, giving him room to dig himself deeper.

He took a long sip, then turned to face you, leaning against the bar. "Alright, it's not the cleaning lady's."

"No."

"It belongs to a friend who stayed over. After a late fundraiser. She wasn't feeling well." The lie came smoothly, practiced.

You stood, smoothing your dress. "Jack, do you think I'm stupid?"

"Of course not, darling—"

"Because I must be, to have believed you all this time." Your voice cracked slightly. "To have thought I was different. Special."

Jack set his glass down and approached you, his limp barely noticeable today. Good days and bad days with his back, he'd told you. You'd massaged his pain away more nights than you could count.

"You are special," he said, reaching for your hand.

You stepped back. "Don't."

"Sweetheart, you're making too much of this—"

"Am I?" You picked up the toothbrush, held it between you like evidence in a trial. "This isn't just sex, Jack. This is someone who stays. Who keeps things here. Who brushes her teeth in our bathroom."

"It's not our bathroom," he said, voice suddenly sharper. "It's my bathroom. My house."

The words sliced through you. Of course. You didn't live here officially. You had your own apartment across town, maintained for appearances. But you'd spent nearly every night here for months. Your clothes filled half his closet. Your books lined his shelves.

"I see," you said quietly. "And I suppose that makes it your bed too? The one I've been sleeping in?"

Jack ran a hand through his hair, his composure beginning to fray. "Christ, don't be dramatic. You know how this works. My position, my family—"

"Your family?" You laughed, the sound brittle. "Your father would be proud, wouldn't he? Like father, like son."

His jaw tightened. "Don't bring my father into this."

"Why not? Isn't this the Kennedy way? Take what you want, who you want, consequences be damned?"

"That's enough." Jack's voice had that edge now, the one you'd heard him use in heated Senate debates. "You knew who I was when we started this."

"Did I?" You moved closer, anger rising to replace the hurt. "Because I thought I knew Jack Kennedy. The man who read poetry to me in bed. Who talked about changing the world. Who made me believe I was the only one who saw the real him beneath all that shine."

He softened slightly, reaching for you again. This time, you let him take your hand, hating how your body still responded to his touch.

"You do see me," he said, voice lowering to that intimate register that always made your knees weak. "Better than anyone."

"Then why?" Your voice caught. "Why isn't that enough?"

Jack's thumb traced circles on your palm. "It's not about enough. It's not about you."

"Then what is it about?"

He hesitated, and in that pause, you saw the truth. It wasn't about love or need or even desire. It was about power. About taking. About never being satisfied with just one of anything.

You pulled your hand away. "How many others are there?"

"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to."

"How many, Jack?"

He turned away, moving back to his scotch. "A few. Nothing serious."

"Nothing serious," you repeated. "Like I'm nothing serious?"

"That's different. You know it's different with you."

"How? How is it different?" Your voice rose, echoing off the high ceilings of the townhouse. "Because you tell me pretty things? Because you let me sleep here? Or is it because I was stupid enough to believe you when you said you loved me?"

Jack slammed his glass down. "Goddammit, I do love you! As much as I can love anyone."

The qualification hung in the air between you.

"As much as you can," you said softly. "Which isn't very much at all, is it?"

"What do you want from me?" he demanded, voice rising to match yours. "You want me to be something I'm not? Some devoted husband material? That's not who I am. That's not who I'll ever be."

"I want you to be honest! Just once, be honest!"

"Fine! You want honesty?" Jack's face flushed with rare anger. "I sleep with other women. I always have. I always will. It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't touch what we have."

"What we have," you repeated, the words tasting like ash. "And what exactly is that, Jack? What do we have that's so special it survives you fucking other women in our bed?"

"Don't be vulgar."

"Don't be a hypocrite," you shot back. "You'll put your cock in anything that moves, but heaven forbid I say the word 'fucking'?"

His eyes flashed. "That's not fair."

"Fair?" You laughed, the sound verging on hysterical. "You want to talk about fair? Was it fair when you told me you loved me? When you said I was different? When you made me believe I was the only one who understood the real you?"

"You are the only one," he insisted, moving toward you. "The others—they're just bodies. Distractions."

"And what am I? The fool waiting at home?"

"You're everything else," he said, his voice dropping to that persuasive murmur that had convinced voters and women alike. "You're my confidante. My partner. The one I come home to."

"When you're not coming home to them."

Jack's jaw tightened. "I can't change who I am. Not even for you."

The words hung between you, final as a door closing. You turned away, moving to the window that overlooked the quiet Georgetown street. Outside, normal life continued. People walked dogs. Couples strolled hand in hand. None of them knew their world was ending in this beautiful townhouse.

"Then I should go," you said quietly.

You felt him behind you before his hands touched your shoulders. "Don't."

"Why not? What's left for me here?"

His fingers tightened. "Everything. Us. This."

You turned to face him, surprised to find his eyes shining with something that looked almost like fear. Jack Kennedy, afraid? It seemed impossible.

"There is no us," you said. "There's you, and there's the women you use. I just didn't realize which category I fell into until now."

"That's not true." His hands moved to cup your face. "You know that's not true."

You should have pulled away. Should have slapped him. Should have walked out the door with your dignity intact. Instead, you stood frozen, caught in the gravity of him.

"I hate you," you whispered.

"No, you don't."

"I should."

"But you don't." His thumb brushed your lower lip. "You love me. God help you."

The truth of it burned worse than any lie. You did love him. Despite everything, despite knowing better, you loved this selfish, brilliant, damaged man.

"Loving you is the worst thing that's ever happened to me," you said.

Something flashed in his eyes—hurt, or maybe just wounded pride. "Then why are you still here?"

The question hung between you, unanswerable. Why were you still here? Why weren't you running for the door? Why did your body still lean toward his, even as your mind screamed to get away?

"I don't know," you admitted. "Maybe I'm as fucked up as you are."

Jack's mouth twitched. "Maybe you are."

And then his lips were on yours, hard and demanding, nothing like the careful kisses he usually gave. This was raw, angry, his teeth catching your lower lip. You should have pushed him away. Instead, your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, pouring all your rage and hurt into the kiss.

You bit him back, tasting blood, wanting to hurt him the way he'd hurt you. His hands gripped your waist, propping you on the drawer beside the window. The impact knocked the breath from your lungs, but you didn't break the kiss. Couldn't. It felt like drowning and breathing at once.

"I hate you," you gasped against his mouth. "I hate you, I hate you."

"I know," he murmured, his hands rough as they gathered your dress up around your hips. "Show me how much."

You clawed at his belt, his zipper, desperate to touch him, to make him feel something—anything—as intense as the storm raging inside you. His fingers found you wet despite everything, and the sound he made—half-groan, half-laugh—made you want to slap him.

Instead, you guided his hand inside you, right there against the wall, not caring that anyone passing on the street might glimpse your silhouettes through the sheer curtains. Let them see. Let the whole world see what Jack Kennedy reduced you to.

He put his fingers into you, one hand braced against the wall. Each movement drove you back against the hard surface, the pain a welcome distraction from the pleasure building low in your belly.

"Is this how you fuck them?" you hissed against his ear. "Is this what they get?"

Jack's rhythm faltered for a moment. "Don't."

"Why not? I want to know." You raked your nails down his back beneath his shirt. "Do you tell them they're special too? Do you make them feel like the only woman in the world?"

He silenced you with another bruising kiss, but you turned your face away.

"Answer me, Jack."

"No," he growled, his fingers still moving against your clit. "It's not the same. It's never the same."

"Liar."

His eyes met yours, dark with something that might have been anger or desire or both. "I've never fucked anyone the way I fuck you."

"Prove it," you challenged.

He pulled out of you abruptly, leaving you empty and aching. Before you could protest, he was dragging you across the room to the dining table where you'd shared so many intimate dinners. With one sweep of his arm, he cleared it of its contents—a crystal vase, yesterday's newspaper, a stack of campaign materials—sending them crashing to the floor.

"Bend over," he ordered, his voice rough.

You hesitated, some last shred of pride holding you back.

"Now," he said, and the command in his voice made you shiver despite yourself.

You turned, placing your palms flat on the polished mahogany surface. Behind you, Jack pushed your dress up again, tearing your underwear down your legs. You heard him spit into his hand—a crude, animal sound that made your face burn with shame and arousal.

When he entered you, it was with such force that the table scraped against the floor. You bit your lip to keep from crying out, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. But when his hand came around to rub between your legs, your resolve crumbled.

"That's it," he murmured against your neck, his breath hot. "Let me hear you."

"Fuck you," you gasped, even as your body betrayed you, pushing back against his thrusts.

He laughed, low and dark. "You are."

The table creaked beneath you, the sound obscene in the otherwise quiet room. Jack's fingers dug into your hip hard enough to bruise, marking you as his even as you knew you weren't—not really, not exclusively.

"Tell me you love me," he demanded, his voice strained.

You shook your head, tears pricking your eyes.

His hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back. "Say it."

"No."

He slowed his movements, torturing you with shallow thrusts that weren't nearly enough. "Say it, and I'll give you what you need."

"I hate you," you sobbed, the pleasure building unbearably despite your best efforts to resist.

"No, you don't." His lips brushed your ear. "Say it. Tell me you love me."

"I love you," you finally whispered, the admission torn from you like a wound opening. "God help me, I love you."

Jack groaned, his control snapping as he drove into you with renewed force. The table jolted beneath you with each thrust, your fingers scrabbling for purchase on the smooth surface. When your climax hit, it was with such intensity that your vision blurred, your entire body convulsing around him.

He followed moments later, his rhythm faltering as he spilled inside you with a hoarse cry that might have been your name.

For several long moments, the only sound was your combined breathing, harsh in the quiet room. Jack's weight pressed you into the table, his forehead resting between your shoulder blades. You could feel him softening inside you, the evidence of his pleasure beginning to leak down your thighs.

The physical reality of what you'd done crashed over you like a wave. This wasn't lovemaking. It wasn't even sex. It was something darker, more primal. A claiming. A punishment. You weren't sure who was punishing whom anymore.

Jack straightened first, pulling out of you with a gentleness that felt like mockery after the violence of your coupling. You stayed bent over the table, unsure your legs would support you if you tried to stand.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice returning to its usual cultured tones.

You laughed, the sound hollow. "What do you think?"

His hand stroked down your spine, a tender gesture that made you want to scream. "I think you're stronger than you know."

Finally, you pushed yourself upright, turning to face him. Jack had already tucked himself away, looking almost composed again except for the flush on his cheeks and the disarray of his hair where you'd pulled it.

"This doesn't fix anything," you said.

"I know." He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "But it doesn't have to be the end either."

You stepped away from his touch, suddenly aware of how exposed you were—dress bunched around your waist, underwear torn and dangling from one ankle. You pulled your clothing back into place with as much dignity as you could muster.

"What would it be, then? Me, knowing about the others? Pretending it doesn't matter?"

Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It could be whatever we want it to be. We make our own rules."

"No, Jack. You make the rules. The rest of us just live with them."

He didn't deny it. Instead, he moved to the bar again, pouring fresh drinks for both of you. You accepted the glass when he offered it, needing something to do with your hands.

"I don't want to lose you," he said quietly.

The admission surprised you. Jack Kennedy didn't admit weakness, didn't acknowledge need. It was the closest thing to vulnerability you'd ever seen from him.

"Then change," you said, knowing even as the words left your mouth that he wouldn't. Couldn't.

He smiled sadly. "Would you really want me if I did? The man you fell in love with—he's this man. The one who takes what he wants. The one who breaks rules. If I became someone else, some domesticated version of myself, would you still want me?"

The question struck you like a physical blow because you knew the answer. You'd fallen for Jack Kennedy—the real one, not some sanitized version. The ambitious, brilliant, deeply flawed man who lit up rooms with his presence and left destruction in his wake.

"That's not fair," you whispered.

"None of this is fair." He moved closer, not touching you but near enough that you could smell his cologne mingled with the scent of sex. "Life isn't fair. Love certainly isn't."

You drained your glass, welcoming the burn of alcohol. "So what now?"

Instead of answering, Jack took the empty glass from your hand and set it aside. Then he sank to his knees before you, his hands sliding up your calves to your thighs beneath your dress.

"Jack—"

"Let me," he murmured, looking up at you with those eyes that had charmed a nation. "Let me show you what you mean to me."

You should have stopped him. Should have walked away. Instead, you let him push your dress up again, let him press his face between your thighs where you were still wet with him. His tongue found you, tasting both of you together, and the intimacy of it made you gasp.

Your hands found his hair, not pushing him away but holding him closer. His mouth worked against you expertly—of course it would be expert, how many women had taught him exactly what to do?—bringing you to the edge again with devastating precision.

When you came against his tongue, it was with a sob that tore from your throat, your knees buckling so that only his hands on your hips kept you upright. Jack rose to his feet, gathering you against him as your body trembled with aftershocks.

"Come to bed," he murmured against your hair.

You let him lead you to the bedroom—the same bedroom where other women had lain, where that pink toothbrush owner had slept. The sheets were fresh, you noticed. Had he changed them, knowing you were coming? Or had they been changed to erase evidence of someone else?

Jack undressed you slowly, reverently, a stark contrast to the frenzied coupling earlier. You let him, passive under his hands, watching his face as he revealed your body inch by inch. When you were naked, he stripped himself with less ceremony, his body lean and beautiful despite the scars from his war injuries.

He guided you onto the bed, settling behind you, his chest warm against your back. One arm draped over your waist, holding you close. His lips pressed against your shoulder in a gentle kiss.

"Stay," he whispered.

You should have said no. Should have gathered your clothes and your dignity and walked out the door. Instead, you lay still in his arms, feeling his heartbeat against your back, steady and strong.

"For how long?" you asked.

His arm tightened around you. "For as long as you can."

It wasn't a promise of fidelity. It wasn't even a promise of love. It was simply an acknowledgment of reality: this was who he was. This was what he could offer. Take it or leave it.

You closed your eyes, feeling tears slip down your cheeks. Jack's thumb brushed them away, but he didn't speak. There was nothing left to say.

[simpxxstan]

CONGRATULATIONS FOR 550 FOLLOWERS!!! YOU DESERVE IT AND A LOTTTTT MOREEE!!!! 💖❤️💕

For the celebration can I please request wonwoo + one of the girls (by weekend)

- love ya 💝💞

thank you so much! your request is perfect because i've associated this song with wonwoo so many times UGH hope you like this!!

this is part of my 550 followers celebration event! find the rest of the content of this event here!

genre: actors au, smut, toxic relationship, angst

word count: 4.4k

warnings: 18+ NSFW MINORS DO NOT INTERACT very toxic and manipulative wonwoo, actor!wonwoo, self confidence issues, self-image issues, mentions of dieting to alter appearances, implied big age gap, fwb dynamics, usage of pet names (doll, love, babe, darling), dom-sub dynamics, dom!wonwoo, sub!reader, public sex, implied spanking and edging, unprotected sex (do not do this irl pls), mirror sex, mild bondage, oral (m. receiving, f. receiving), verbal fighting, very ambiguous ending.

wonwoo doesn't even know your name. but his eyes have been on yours through the entire evening of the post-premiere party. you're happy being a wallflower- you don't even expect anything else. Because why would anyone notice a simple side character when there are so many stars to steal the show?

and yet, his eyes have strayed to you through the crowds of the party. even when he's in the spotlight, even when all the cameras are flashing on him, even when his co-star, who's the highest-paid actress in the country right now, keeps rubbing her body against his arm; even when every other woman in the party is busy flaunting their figures and their charms to him; even when everyone has their eyes on him.

you think you're mistaken. you quietly sip on your cocktail, staying on the sidelines. you're not really looking for attention tonight. your character might be a small one, just a minor role, but you're still extremely proud of yourself. you've just made your film debut, and you're just twenty-three. young enough for just a little success to fuel infinite adrenaline, but also old enough to know how to control your fire. tonight is for the small victories for you, and you've made up your mind to retire early, and go home to your friends and actually begin the party.

"y/n?" you spin around so fast that your hair whips into your face.

"mr. jeon?"

wonwoo's right there, his hair slicked back with gel, wearing the hottest design of the season effortlessly. there's a pair of glasses sitting casually on his nose, one eyebrow slightly raised. "there's no need to be formal, you know. we are colleagues, please call me wonwoo."

your nervousness must be visible through your face, because wonwoo's eyes sparkle with amusement. frankly, you don't even know how wonwoo even knows your name. you haven't interacted with him directly through the film- except for the fifteen minutes of the climax scene where you were on the screen at the same time as him.

"i- i'm sorry. wonwoo."

"happy to see you here. hope you're enjoying the party?"

your breath stutters. "i- i am. yes, very much." it's a fucking lie. you haven't moved from this spot for the last half an hour, you've been sipping on the same cocktail for the last ten minutes, and you've only conversed with two more actors in the film who had equally small roles as you.

wonwoo smiles at you, and your heart skips a beat. it's the same effect he has on every goddamn person. it's why he's become who he is now- charming, handsome and everyone's walking wet dream. "i'll see you around, then." and then he's gone, your eyes left wide and your thoughts all scattered.

_

you see wonwoo again when he invites you to a party at his country house. you think he's mistakenly invited you, up until the moment that the gates open for you when the guards see your face. you're sure glad you specially bought a new dress for this occasion, because the party seems to be filled with the cream of the celebrities of the current scene. and yet, his eyes find yours again. "you're here." you've prepared yourself better now, so that he doesn't render you a stuttering, stumbling mess again. "i couldn't turn down your invitation, of course." you're wearing your favourite wine-shaded lipstick, and you've chosen a dress that tastefully shows enough skin to make you look more a woman and less a girl.

it works on wonwoo.

he steps closer to you, his eyes raking over your figure. you can see enough haze in his obsidian eyes to know his look is one of appreciation. it has a wild effect on you- the combined attack of the scent of his cologne and the way his hair's pushed off his forehead to expose his strong eyebrows has your blood rushing. "you look beautiful." your eyes raise to meet his, and he hands a glass of wine into your hands, his fingers lingering on to the ghost of your touch for a second too long. "thank you?" you cringe at the tone of your own words. "i- sorry. i don't know just how to react about the fact i'm here at your party." you purse your lips and avert your gaze, only stealing glances at wonwoo when he chuckles. "you're finding this funny." "i'm not laughing at you, i swear." the wine's pretty strong. you don't like the taste of it except you can't say so to wonwoo who must've spent the racks on this. "you are. but you must be used to this. fans, after all." "well, it is an honour that you're a fan." "honour? i'm sure it's not. i'm a nobody."

wonwoo leans in, closer to you, his voice low enough to ensure no one else hears him except you.

"a beautiful lady is never a nobody."

you stay next to wonwoo through the evening. on the sofa, in front of the guests, at the dining table, in the balcony when wonwoo takes a cigarette break. he doesn't leave your side all evening, and who are you to turn him away?

_

wonwoo takes you on his yacht the next weekend.

"i have to ask you something." you've worn your favourite jumpsuit for the occasion, and wonwoo's standing on the neck, a polo t-shirt snug on his body.

"yes?"

"what is it exactly that you're doing? you and i are not friends, jeon wonwoo."

"you're right. we're not friends." wonwoo lifts his sunglass off his eyes and stands close to you. the night air makes your hair fly off into the hair, and he extends a hand to touch the skin on your neck that's left exposed. "i don't want to be friends with you, y/n. i just want you."

you gulp. you hesitate. that's your biggest mistake. because it takes your heart that one idle second to fold into wonwoo's charms, and you part your lips at the way his fingers rub circles into the same sensitive spot on your neck.

"what do you think? will you let me touch you?" god, how can he say it so easily?

you tilt your head to give him better access.

_

wonwoo makes love to you on the deck that night. you're fully sober, you're barely 100 metres away from the coast where everyone can see you. but you still let wonwoo strip off your dress and lay you out on the deck to suck at your breasts and fuck his fingers into your wet, sloppy cunt. when your cum is smothered all over his hands, he takes you to his bedroom. your hands are tied back, your body arching to give him more access. there's so much he's giving you- so many sensations at once. he brings a cube of ice and rubs it over your nipples to soothe them after the way he's sucked them red for so long. when your body shivers because of the ice, he pulls you into his arms, whispering soothing praise in your ears- even going as far as letting you grind down on his thigh. your hands are freed as he drives his cock into your cunt, all at once. you scream out his name- you've never taken such a big cock, but you want to please him. so bad. so you let him thrust himself into you lazily until you're begging him to go faster.

somewhere in the middle of the night, you lose your mind and beg him to use you. wonwoo's smirk is a memory you'll never forget even if you don't see him ever again. it's a smirk that will remind you of the way he flipped you on top of him, laying you out on his lap, as he leans on the headboard of his bed and calmly fingers your cunt again, pushing his cum back into you, until your eyes roll back and you lose all sense of time and place.

the last thing you remember from that night is when wonwoo kisses you, and fucks you into the mattress, and you grasp onto his shoulders as he relentlessly pumps into you. "so lovely, my doll. you're my doll, isn't that right?" you don't even know what you're saying at this point- it's too late into the night and all your thoughts are clouded by just wonwoo. "yes. yours, yours, yours."

_

wonwoo comes to your apartment the next day, with a bouquet of calla lilies and takeout food. the food doesn't get eaten for dinner, you do. the food gets eaten the next morning, your entire body too weak to even stand up straight. he feeds you as he sits next to you on the bed, kissing your forehead every two seconds. he runs a bath for you, and lifts you straight from the bed to the tub, and kisses you until your entire body relaxes in the warm water.

you don't talk much about anything other than the lust running thick through your veins for the entire day. you turn on the tv to watch something, but you end up sucking wonwoo's cock when he sits back on your couch and holds the end of your head to ensure you're taking him to the back of your throat, murmuring praises to you without a moment's lapse. when your mouth is full of his cum, he asks you to tell you whose doll you are. you shake your head, knowing you're going to make a mess if you try to talk. "go on. don't make me ask you again." wonwoo's voice is low, rumbling like thunder as he stares down into your eyes.

"y- yours!" you say as carefully as you can, and yet so much of the cum spills down your chin onto your breasts, where wonwoo licks it clean off you. "so pretty, but so messy. do you want a break now, doll?"

"no. please- no." wonwoo coos at you, as his hand strays down to your pussy and he feels the way your panties have turned transculent with how turned on you are. "come onto my lap, doll."

that night, you skip dinner. the next day, you take breaks in between sex to eat on a single pizza you ordered for lunch. you've fucked on every damn surface in your apartment- from the kitchen counter to your bathroom floor, from the balcony to the guest bedroom, from the loveseat underneath the window to the dining table. and yet, you can't keep yourself away from this man, and wonwoo, surprisingly, doesn't want to leave either.

until he does.

"darling, i'm going to have to leave in the morning" you're spent, lying on the bed, heaving in breaths to calm your racing heart after an excrutiatingly long session of spanking and edging. "you do?" you turn around on your elbows to look at him, and he pulls you over his chest, resting your head on this pecs. "i do. i have shooting tomorrow. would you mind if i came back in the evening? or you could come to m-" "wonwoo. can we slow down?" he stops talking for a second. you stare at him, trying to read his face.

you see wonwoo think for a long moment. finally, you raise your eyebrows and ask him again, "well?" "we could but... i can't do slow with you, doll. you're driving me crazy."

there. he's taken your breath away again.

he flips you over, his tongue already licking the valley between your breasts. you shiver all over, his hands roam your skin to calm you down. "i want you so bad, you have no idea." oh, you think you do. jeon wonwoo's been in your apartment for four days straight- when he has a perfectly beautiful mansion waiting for him. he's gone without decent food. gone without working out, gone without any of his makeup or skincare, gone without picking any work calls. you know he must want you bad enough to completely forget about his work life to come spend these days with you, rutting in your bed for hours and hours.

but a candle that burns fast dies out quickly.

you cradle wonwoo's face in your hands, pulling him away from your breasts. "let's get some sleep, hmm? you have work tomorrow."

_

wonwoo is gone before you even wake up. your mouth is filled with a bitter taste as you recall how mindlessly you've spent the last week- on the yacht and now at your house. you check your emails. no callbacks or offers from the auditions you've given in the past month. it's disheartening, but nothing new. every aspiring artists suffers the same struggles. but to be honest, you'd rather choose this over taking up a different, safer profession, as your parents would call it. you can't imagine not doing acting- it's the one thing which has reciprocated your love for it through your life. well, you hope that once the film reaches more people, you can secure some role through future auditions. till then, you text the local theatre troupe you're a part of, and inform them that you'll be free for their next performance.

wonwoo calls you when it's already dark outside. "my car's outside. think you can come over for the night?" you want to say no. you want to restrict the attraction- because you know you're falling for someone for whom everyone falls, and he'll never take this seriously, whatever this is. but you're a moth drawn to a flame, ready to burn till the last moment.

"yes, i'll come down in ten minutes."

wonwoo's not in the car. his chauffeur takes you to his mansion, and you find him sitting in the lawn, smoking a cigarette. as soon as he sees you, he calls out to you. "y/n! you're finally here." he runs over to meet you halfway and picks you up in his arms. "what's this behaviour, wonwoo?" you're flustered as hell, a giggling mess in his arms. "i missed you too much. how was your day today?" wonwoo sits down on the exquisite-looking chaise in the middle of the lawn. you notice that there's no one else around, except nature and the moonlight. wonwoo pulls you into his lap, and you smile at the way his hands roam through your body. "just like any other day. didn't get any emails, did yoga and ate fruits because i need to diet." "you don't. whoever told you that?" you laugh. "your stylist, actually. she says i need a better figure to get more roles." wonwoo nose scrunches, and his fingers slip under your t-shirt to touch your skin. "i'm going to change my stylist." and then he kisses your neck when you laugh out loud, pushing your neck further to give him better access and you arch out your body to feel as much of him as you can.

the next morning, you wake up much after the sun's already overhead. wonwoo's still asleep next to you, his hair splayed out across the pillow, his face down on his pillow. he has a leg over your body, but you carefully escape and get out of bed.

there's a new mail in your inbox.

"fuck!" you shout out when you see the contents of the mail, not realising that wonwoo's still sleeping. he wakes up instantly and peers at you. "don't scream if i'm not making you scream, love. what's up?" his voice is broken but inviting, and you jump into the bed next to him. "i just got an offer to model for a brand!" wonwoo gasps, sitting up and wearing his glasses. "that's amazing, y/n!" "i know right! i've never modelled before- oh i really need to get on that diet now-" "babe. babe, no. you look perfect. you have no need to diet forcefully. they'll take you as you are, otherwise they don't deserve you." wonwoo pulls you into a hug, his bare skin so warm and soft, and you melt into his touch. after he holds you for many long minutes, you whisper to him so softly, he may not even hear it. "thank you, wonwoo." his gaze is soft when he looks at you, "let me show you how perfect you are."

and wonwoo takes you to his walk-in closet, where an entire wall is covered with mirrors. when the two of you are facing the mirror, he begins kissing your neck from behind you, peeling off your layers. "keep your eyes on yourself, doll. see how perfect you are." and he shows you. he gets on the floor, hooking one leg on his shoulder, as he eats you out. then he pushes you on the closed closet behind you, and fucks you while you hold on to it for dear life. the position makes your legs ache, but the mirror's visual of wonwoo's broad back and his thrusting into you, the way his dark mop of hair shakes when he grabs your breasts and sucks them, and the way his hands leave red marks on your hips with how hard he's holding you, leaves you feeling too aroused and dirty to ask him to take this somewhere else.

_

you almost move in to wonwoo's house over the next month, with how much time you spend with him. he brings over your clothes and other belongings to his house, he drives you around everywhere, and he makes love to you like a touch-starved man every night. and you love it. you love the feeling of having wonwoo all to yourself. even when there are hundreds of other people waiting for him, craving for his touch, you have the power to make wonwoo fall to his knees for you, and it makes you high. you're on top of the world, and you fail to see who's put you there.

your career also radically takes off- must be the after effect of the film. you get several modelling offers, advertisements and even a magazine cover featuring actors who've originated from roots in theatre. but the real kill is when your application to the audition for a role at one of the most anticipated tv shows of the next year gets accepted. wonwoo smothers you with sweet kisses when you tell him the news, and although you haven't labelled anything, it starts to feel too domestic for you to think he's no longer serious about you. for he often texts you as wife, takes you out to secret dates where you're kissing in alleys, and eats dinner with you every night. he makes you feel so good, you can't be bothered to worry about anything.

you know wonwoo's at his shooting spot when you arrive at the hall where the film audition's taking place. so you're incredibly surprised to see that he's sitting right next to the director of the film on the audition panel. "what are you doing here?" you text him as you wait for your turn to audition. "nothing- just a favour for an old friend. don't worry, babe. i won't be judging. i won't even be saying a word." he texts you back. you look up at him from your spot in the wings, and you smirk when your eyes meet his. he winks at you, and in spite of all the distance, your heart flutters.

you pass the audition. you're also offered a role promotion- from the side chick of the villain, you're now the male lead's second love interest. "no surprise, babe. you did so well," wonwoo tells you later when he's kissing you in the back of the car. "how can you say that! the others were so good. i was literally so nervous!" he pulls away from the spot he's been biting hickeys into on your neck, and laughs. "you've gotta work on your confidence, babe. but not on your talent. no one there was better than you, and you should know it."

_

wonwoo finishes filming for his project by the end of the next month. he insists you accompany him to the pre-release party- which is frankly a little shocking.

"are you sure you want to be seen with me?" you ask him from the corner of the bed, and wonwoo kneels before you, tying the strings of your heels. "are you serious right now? god, what happened to all those discussions about confidence?" you sigh, pouting as he looks up at you. "i don't know. what if your fans don't like me? you know how fans can be." wonwoo laughs. "no, i don't." you roll your eyes, "that's because you've never-" been seen publicly with someone you're dating, you want to say. but your words trail off when you realise wonwoo's never really said he's dating you. you might be friends with benefits in his mind, even though he calls you love and babe.

he finishes tying up your heels and looks at you. "hmm?" "what i mean is that- i'm a nobody, wonwoo. i don't want your image to be affected because me." he laughs, "you're not nobody. you're y/n. and you don't have to worry about me. nothing you do can affect my public image.

wonwoo's words act like a shot of confidence injected into your bloodstream, and you hold your head up high when you get out of the car, expecting wonwoo to join you from the other side of the car.

he doesn't.

he immediately moves on to where his co-stars are standing, flashing dazzling smiles to the press waiting for him. it's an understandable move, but it makes you feel very disoriented for a second as you get a grip on yourself. you're not nobody. not a single camera flashes to capture you. you're not nobody. not a single head turns to look at you. you're not nobody. you're a wallflower again, back where wonwoo found you six months ago. nothing's changed. you are nobody.

after a few drinks and some small talk with people you see, you escape to take a break in the bathroom. you're just about to get out after taking a few minutes to recover, when you find wonwoo standing right outside. "wonwoo?" "let me in, babe." you're confused but he smiles and slowly comes in. "what's wr-" he doesn't respond, he pushes you against the tiled wall and kisses you. "i miss you, that's all." and with a few touches, he makes you forget all doubts in your mind. almost. "you look so good tonight, left me with a boner all evening." "no one asked you to be away from me." you whisper in between moans as his hands spread the slit of your dress and find your clothed pussy. "shhh. don't be a brat now, doll. think you'll let me fuck your mouth quickly? darling, don't refuse me now. i'll make it up to you when we get home. i can't possibly walk around with this boner all night." he makes sure not to leave hickeys on your neck, but the way he's touching you makes you weak. "yes, fuck. please, wonwoo."

so you get on your knees in the bathroom of this five-star hotel's hall, your knees cold against the tile, and take out wonwoo's thick red cock from his pants. it is painfully hard, and you take it in one go, your mouth used to the stretch by now. it takes you less than five minutes to get him to cum, thankfully he finishes in the washbasin and not in your mouth. when the redness of his eyes have subsided from the orgasm, he kisses your cheek, whispering good girl to you, and leaves you. your throat is raw, your underwear uncomfortable and your skin cold. but you're sure no one will notice even if your lipstick's ruined.

_

you hand wonwoo your phone, showing him a few screenshots open. there's conversations happening on social media about your upcoming film, but it's not good publicity. there's apparently a chat that's been leaked, claiming that you got the role only because you're sleeping with wonwoo.

"is it true?"

wonwoo takes a glance at your phone, before returning to the game he's playing on his laptop. "of course not, babe."

"what about the chat?"

"you know how rumours start."

"wonwoo, look at me and reply."

"one second. i need to finish this round."

"wonwoo!" he finally looks at you. "what?" "tell me the truth. look into my eyes and tell me the truth." "i told you already. it's all false." "wonwoo, i would rather not get roles than get it through you."

he laughs. "really? someone's grown up with a lot of morals, i see."

"i'm serious."

the expression on his face morphs from one of mirth to a serious look you've never seen in real life, only in his film when he's seconds away from nabbing the villain. "are you? would you honestly rather be poor than successful with a little bit of help?"

your blood boils, and you stand up, moving away from him. "so you're admitting it?" your voice grows high pitched, but you're feeling unstable. "to what?" "fixing the audition?" wonwoo laughs again. "what about it? you dese-" "do not bullshit me, wonwoo. did you or did you not?" "y/n-" "why were you there that day? did you or did you not, wonwoo, i need to know!"

"i did." there's a look of amusement in his eyes, but it's not attractive at all. "i did because i could. because i don't want to date someone who's dirt poor and on the edges of the industry."

your breath stops in your throat. for a second you think you're going to choke and die, but then wonwoo reaches out and touches your cheeks. "i was just looking out for you, love." you stand frozen, numb against his touch. you can't look into his eyes, you fear the venom in their darkness.

"fuck you, jeon wonwoo."

his hand stops around your jaw. "what?"

"you can go get high on your power and fame. don't use me to boost your own ego." you finally look up at him. "fuck you."

wonwoo smirks.

"it'll sting for a bit. just like sex. it'll get really pleasant soon when the fruits start coming in. you're my smart doll, aren't you?"

[internet-succubus]

husband hunting!

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content/tags, mdni!: meeting at a bar/mentions of drinking, strangers to lovers (to a secret third thing?), fem receiving oral, nanami is a gentleman obviously, prone bone, hair pulling, unprotected sex w/ stranger (don't be silly, wrap ur willy!), creampie, consent is sexy

a/n: finally finished :,-) i wanted to write something for my fav fictional blonde. if i missed any tags or if anyone has feedback lmk! this is like the second thing i've ever written n i'm always looking to improve!!! enjoy :-p

word count: 5.4k

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it was well known amongst kento nanami’s friends and colleagues that he was a massive homebody. when he wasn’t at the school or running errands with/for you, he was at home. his life had slowed significantly since leaving his position as a sorcerer, though he hadn’t left the life behind entirely. nanami no longer accepted missions, as they’re too dangerous now that he’s attempting to settle down, but he does spend a considerable amount of time at jujutsu high’s tokyo campus. he finds peace in serving as a mentor for young sorcerers, urging them to prioritize themselves and to not get too lost in their work while they’re young. 

the two of you met while he was on a mission, working solo to exorcise a rather strong curse a few towns away from home. being away was a chore, so he chose to drown his sorrows at the closest bar he could find to his shoddy hotel. you, on the other hand, were attempting to create some distance between yourself and your place of employment that bestowed upon you a rather heavy cross to bear. your last drink was just beginning to blur the edges of your vision when a stoic looking man caught your eye.

that particularly slow thursday night is where he first laid eyes on you from across the room. it had been a long time since he had approached a woman, not wanting to burden somebody else with the trials and tribulations of being a sorcerer, but something about your demeanor caught his attention and refused to let it go.

he figured that the best way to start was to send you a drink through the only server working that night, hoping you would somehow know it came from him. after browsing the menu and considering his options, nanami opted to buy you another one of the drinks he just saw you finish. it looked like a fruity cocktail- its bright blue liquid was complemented by the green umbrella hanging off the top. the drink’s appearance was amusing to him- especially after he took note of the sour look plastered across your features. despite its innocent appearance, the look on your face suggested that the bartender was feeling rather generous when mixing it up for you.

as you were debating between heading home for the night and buying one last drink to tide you over for the train ride home, the server approached you holding a tall glass of the drink you had just finished. how strange, you thought. you didn’t remember ordering another, but if the universe made the decision for you, who were you to complain?

before you could inquire about the drink, the server spoke. “this was bought for you by the gentleman sitting at the bar,” she said enthusiastically. her body language suggested that she was tired, but her voice was tinged with excitement for you. “he’s been staring at you all night, i suggest you talk to him before he pounces on you from all the way over there,” she says, this time with a sly smile and a short nod in the direction of what seemed to be your next source of entertainment. over her shoulder, you could see that he was facing you. despite his tinted glasses and the dim lights of the bar, you could almost feel his eyes burning into you, scanning you up and down.

you muttered a quick thanks to the server before you took a sip of the new drink, gathering your things to meet your mysterious suitor. your dating history was brief, with just a few unserious boyfriends throughout high school and college, none of them seeming to have that “wow” factor that you were looking for in a long term partner. 

the closer you got to the bar, the larger the man seemed to get. your legs grew heavy and a warmth pooled at your core as you took in the sight of his broad shoulders and well defined jaw. the universe must have sensed your loneliness and decided to throw you a bone for the hell of it. when you finally arrived next to him, the air felt thick as you leaned against the bar, deciding that you would take control for a little bit. some fun couldn’t hurt, right? they don’t call it liquid courage for nothing.

as soon as you pulled out a stool and made yourself comfortable, the conversation started flowing. maybe it was the drinks or maybe it was the way his dirty blonde hair hung just right in front of his forehead, but the longer you talked, the harder it was to focus on anything but him. it didn’t take long for you to learn his name, what he did for work, and a few other details of his life that interested you just enough that you wanted to get closer, just to know more. it took even less time for you to initiate short moments of contact- brushing his shoulder here, resting a hand on his knee there. the soft red hue that spread across his cheeks with every touch was an indication that he was picking up what you were putting down, as the kids would say.

nanami nursed his glass of whiskey as the two of you talked, taking in the scent of your perfume and committing it to memory. it seemed as if you were following a script he didn’t remember writing. he wasn’t one to dwell on romance, but tonight had him reconsidering that. was he interested because of who you were, or simply because he hadn’t had a connection with a woman like this in so long? as the conversation took a number of unexpected turns, he started to believe the former. when your hands made their way to the fabric of his suit, he felt electrified, as if each touch was charged with a small spark of energy. 

the rest of the night was history. you ended up talking for so long that the bar was closing, and you were the only two patrons left. the owner shooed you out, jokingly saying “alright, lovebirds, make your way out and into the night.” and “make your way into the night” you did. after leaving in a fit of laughter, you accepted his offer to return to his hotel, almost certain of what would happen next.

nanami kento was a gentleman, lightly holding your waist as you stepped onto the elevator to his hotel’s top floor. the tension was palpable, weighing on both of you heavily. he made no effort to kiss you though, despite the closeness of your face to his. he could sense that you wanted more, but he wanted to take things a little bit slow. he wanted to do this right.

he let you exit the elevator first, watching the curves of your waist shift as you took slow steps just a short distance ahead of him. the fabric of your dress moved in time with your walk, and he began to wonder if this was real life. it took all of his self control not to haul you over his shoulder and have his way with you, right there in the hallway. nanami coached himself through a few deep breaths, hoping that the periodic flow of oxygen to his brain would lower the thump of his pulse in his ears. spoiler alert: it didn’t help. not one bit.

“yes, i’m real, what made you think i wasn’t?” you giggled over your shoulder. shit, did he say that out loud? the drinks from the bar must have been stronger than he thought.

“nothing,” he said slowly, choosing his next words carefully, making sure to keep his internal dialogue internal this time. “i just… haven’t done anything like this before,” he sighed. he hoped that his insecurity wasn’t obvious. as the two of you reached the door to his room, he took a final, shaky breath before reaching around you to unlock it.

the two of you stepped through the door, waiting until the lock latched behind you before closing the gap and bursting that oh-so-heavy bubble of sexual tension. his hands started at the tops of your arms, slowly making their way to your hands where he interlaced his fingers with yours. the hairs on the back of your neck stood up as he leaned in, stopping just before your lips connected. “can i kiss you?” he whispered against your mouth. 

the voice in your head had some rather filthy things to say, but you settled for a soft, “yes,” before he finally pressed his lips against yours. the sharp taste of whiskey was a stark contrast to the slight tremble of his lips. you could tell he was nervous, but you found it adorable. how could a man like nanami kento be so timid? you smiled to yourself against his lips, your mouth moving in time with his. short pecks turned into sloppy, open-mouthed kisses as he grew more confident.

he moved one hand to cup your face lightly, gently stroking your skin with his thumb. his other hand looped around your waist, pulling your hips closer to his by pushing his large palm into the small of your back. he held your face in place as he broke away from your lips, opting to trail kisses down your jaw. you placed a hand on his broad chest and another over his fingers that rested on your face. his soft, blonde hair ghosted across your face as his lips moved like they had a mind of their own.

soft kisses turned into gentle nips along your collarbone. every few seconds, he sunk his teeth in a little farther, relishing in the gasps and quiet ‘ahs’ that left your lips. it was after he felt your fingers grip his hair and gently pull that he decided that he would do whatever it took to make you his. was it crazy of him to fall in love after just a few hours and a short makeout session? perhaps, but the taste of your soft skin was enough to make him follow you to the ends of the earth.

his calloused hands held onto your hips for a brief moment as his mouth moved back and forth across your neck, leaving small marks that looked like a necklace of love bites and lust. you then felt him grip the backs of your thighs and you had a feeling you knew what was coming, so you locked your arms around his neck and prepared for lift off.

“can i?” he rasped, already knowing the answer. he could feel your desperation in the way your back arched, bringing your bodies impossibly closer. he lifted his head from your chest and met your eyes. at some point during your walk to the room he took off his glasses and tucked them into his collar, and you were grateful for it. his lust-filled gaze made your body feel electric. you nodded, looking down at the man whose eyes stayed locked with yours. that was all he needed to see before he hoisted you up and off the ground, feeling your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. he didn’t miss the way your dress rode up your thighs, exposing the wetness between your legs. he could feel you dampening his dress shirt as he walked you to the bed and laid you down gently.

the warm light of his bed-side lamp casted soft shadows along your face, and their abstract shapes complemented the messy swirls of hair that framed your face. he barely knew you, but the look in your eyes and the sound of your shallow, hungry breaths made him feel like he was exactly where he needed to be. 

nanami leaned down, making sure that his large frame was the only thing you could see. he needed all of your attention to be on him, like a lost puppy returning home. his hands were planted on either side of your head, making sure not to place them on your hair so he wouldn’t be pulling on it. not yet, anyway. he gazed into your eyes for a moment. “you look beautiful,” he whispered. “can i touch you?”

you nodded eagerly, letting him sit back just enough to run his hands from your shoulders to your chest, cupping your breasts and squeezing lightly. his hands slid down your front before they reached the tops of your thighs. your dress had shifted so that it barely covered your panties. you could feel your cheeks flush as his thumbs slipped under the fabric hugging your hips. his eyes never left yours as he cocked his head to the side, silently asking for consent. you nodded again.

nanami took a moment to pull you closer so that your hips were elevated, your ass resting on his thighs. he pulled up your dress with one hand so that it bunched around your waist as his other hand grazed the inside of your thigh, making you tense involuntarily. he cupped you between your legs, pressing the heel of his palm onto your clit and slipping his strong fingers under your panties. his fingers swiped back and forth, spreading your wetness around in such a filthy way. “f-fuck,” you stuttered, your senses heightened from the hours of anticipation you’ve endured. you bucked into his hand, trying to get as much friction as possible.

“shh, don’t get greedy now. let me take care of you, pretty girl,” he said softly. you could feel his strong fingers circling your wet entrance. it was almost embarrassing how aroused you were for him, but it only made him more confident. it felt like a lifetime of teasing before he slipped his middle and ring finger into you, taking his time and getting you used to the unfamiliar feeling. the intrusion made you buck again, and his free hand moved to rest on your lower stomach, securing your hips in place.

the sight of his fingers pumping in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace was all he could focus on. blood rushed to his cock, forming a tent in his already tight dress pants. your back arched as the pads of his fingers pressed into your g-spot, making you dig your heels into the mattress. 

“god, your -haah- fingers feel s-so fucking good,” you said, looking down at where he was touching you. you bit your lip to keep yourself quiet, not wanting to break his focus. this seemed to displease him though, as the hand that was resting on your stomach made its way to your chin. he gripped it lightly and ran his thumb along your bottom lip, freeing it from where it was held between your teeth. 

“don’t hold yourself back, baby, tell me how good i’m making you feel.” your eyes widened in shock- you didn’t think men like this existed in real life. a man who was overly cocky usually turned you off in seconds, but his confidence was entirely justified. his palm pressed into your clit harder, and you could feel him moving it in lazy circles. your jaw fell slack as whimpers and soft profanities slipped past your lips. he took a moment to listen to the sounds you made, not wanting to miss a second of your audible pleasure. “that’s it, that’s what i like to hear.” this man would be the death of you, and you wouldn’t want to go out any other way.

his fingers moved faster, pushing further and further inside you. you felt so full you could burst- you could only imagine how his cock would feel inside you. “i n-need more, i need you,” you whined. the corners of his mouth curled, a smile growing on his face. he had you right where he wanted you from the moment he saw you at the bar.

silently, he slipped his fingers out of you before taking them in his mouth, swirling his tongue to clean your juices off of himself. the taste made him feel like a different person, his thoughts shifting from love-making to mean, rough sex. your eyes widened as you watched him suck on his fingers.

“you’ll take what i give you,” he said firmly. he scooted himself to the foot of the bed, kneeling on the floor like he was beginning a prayer. his hands locked around your hips and pulled hard. only once your thighs were over his shoulders and your cunt was mere inches away from his lips did he stop pulling on you. his half-lidded eyes looked up at you while he watched your chest heave. the rise and fall of your breasts spurred him on further.

his gaze shifted back to the space between your thighs, where your underwear was struggling to hide your arousal. he leaned in, placing soft kisses from the hem of your panties to the pool of slick at your core. the longer he spent peppering you with kisses, the harder it was to control yourself.

your hands made their way to his head, starting at his temples and sweeping his hair back. you could feel him smile against you, and though you couldn't see it, you knew the curve of his lips was nothing short of diabolical. he knew he had you right where he wanted you.

nanami’s left hand stayed on your hip while his right moved to pull your panties to the side again. he moved faster this time, not having the patience to wait any longer. his lust-filled gaze flitted between your face, screwed up in pleasure and desire, and your cunt, now shiny with the wetness he was responsible for. he leaned in and flattened his tongue against you, licking a long stripe all the way to your clit. a whimper escaped your lips as he began sucking gently.

the warm, wet feeling of his lips wrapped around your sensitive bud sent waves of electricity through your body. instinctively, your legs tried to clamp together, but the head between your thighs proved to be a welcome obstacle. in response, his large hands made his way to the outside of your thighs where he pressed them further together. nanami kento did not back down from a challenge.

as his mouth moved against you and his tongue painted figure eights around your clit and entrance, your legs continued squeezing his head. the dull ache in his neck was nothing compared to the tight strain of his hard cock in his pants. one hand moved down to palm himself in an attempt to relieve some of the stress on his pants, but it was futile. the only thing that could satisfy his growing bulge was busy being devoured.

his eyes became fixed on your face and the way your mouth opened when his middle and ring fingers slipped inside you once more. he admired the way your eyebrows drew together in response to all of the filthy things his mouth was doing to you. nearly an hour passed as his deft lips moved around you, seemingly with a mind of their own. at some point, his eyes fell closed as he let the motion of your hips guide him to where he needed to be.

all of a sudden, nanami’s pace changed. a particularly unholy moan slipped from your lips, followed by a shaky, “p-please”. you didn’t know what you were begging for, but as soon as the broken word hit his ears, he developed one goal: to make you cum in his mouth. his lips locked around your clit once again, sucking with a near painful amount of force, while his fingers began pumping faster and harder.

“mmph - f-fuck i’m c-close, please don’t stop,” you cried. your voiced no longer sounded like your own; you were surprised at how… obscene your noises were. nanami moaned right into your cunt, which sent vibrations through your core all the way to your throat. your knees attempted to fly together but his head remained secure, sucking on your swollen clit until you were twitching involuntarily. 

your hips bucked once, then twice, and then everything went white. your entire body was spasming out of your control. the increasing volume of your cries matched the pace of his fingers and tongue. it felt like he was everywhere all at once, and your legs tensed. he seemed to know what was coming, as he kept his pace consistent and let you ride out your intense wave of pleasure right on his face..

when he felt your body relax and your legs unclench, he pulled his head away. the slick dripping down his chin caught reflected parts of the warm lighting that filled the room, and you blushed. for someone you met less than 12 hours ago, he sure seemed to know what you like.

he positioned himself above you once more as he lowered his head to kiss you softly, a sharp contrast to the lewd things his mouth was doing just moments before. your chest was heaving and you sucked in deep breaths between sloppy kisses, inhaling his sharp cologne. expensive, but not obnoxious- this one was definitely a keeper. 

his hands slipped under your body and stopped on the small of your back. your lips slowed to an agonizing halt as nanami lifted his head, blonde strands surrounding his face like the drooping branches of a willow tree. it was almost disgusting how beautiful he was as his smooth voice said, “lay on your stomach, hips up.”

your body responded quickly, and it seemed like you assumed your position before he even finished his sentence. he slipped a pillow under your lower stomach so your could relax your back; your arch was supported and it gave your tired muscles a moment to unwind. large hands and thick fingers worked their way down your shoulders and back the heel of his palms pressing onto your spine. a little massage never hurt, given the things he planned to do to you. 

he then stopped on your ass, kneading the flesh and taking his time to admire your figure. a thumb ran down the valley of your behind. it made its way between your legs resting right outside of your swollen slit. he didn’t miss the way your thighs pressed together slightly, indicating that your body wanted more despite your previous climax.

you looked over your shoulder and fluttered your eyelashes innocently, meeting his eyes that raked up your body. silently, you spread your legs, inviting him into you. he understood your unspoken request as he undid his pants and slipped them off, revealing a rather intimidating looking tent in his underwear. the clink of his belt’s metal buckle seemed to ring throughout the silent room as he tugged his boxers down, down, down, allowing is cock to spring free. maybe it was the angle, or your blurred vision deceiving you, but one thought crossed your mind immediately: where in god’s name will that go? surely it won’t fit inside me.

nanami wrapped one hand around his thick base, working his fist to his tip where he gathered a generous amount of precum to lubricate himself all the way down to his toned pelvis. his other hand pressed against the inside of your thigh, urging you to make more room for him. you wiggled your ass slightly as he swiped his tip up and down your wet core. a gasp slipped past your lips and his eyes flicked up to your surprised face.

“c-can you go slow? it’s… been a while,” you said quietly. you attempted to soothe your nerves with a few deep breaths, mentally preparing yourself. a soft smile graced his face as he continued pumping himself.

“of course, i plan to handle you with care, pretty thing. we’ll take our time and you let me know if i need to stop or slow down, ‘kay?” he reassured you. you nodded and watched as he pressed his tip against you

he slid his hand further up his shaft, slowly guiding himself into you. the slow stretch was foreign but welcome as you pushed back onto him. your movement drew a hiss from nanami as he inhaled sharply and bit his lip. soft ahs and mphs spilled from your throat as he continued. his free hand moved to spread you apart further so he could see exactly where your bodies met.

“you taking it okay?” he asked. he paused and waited for you to answer and tell him whether he should continue. the slight pain mixed with pleasure clouded your head and it took you a few moments to process his words. your eyes were fixed on him the whole time and you had no intention of looking away. your body desperately wanted him to have his way with you, but the check in was appreciated. a true gentleman.

“yes, fuck, i need more,” you breathed out, pushing back further. he huffed in response and slipped the rest of his length into you in one fluid motion, taking in the sweet squelches of your pussy. you’d never felt so full yet so comfortable in your life, and in a fit of impatience, you rocked your hips back slightly. his tip neared your cervix the further back you went and you winced.

he laughed softly and rested a hand on your hips and placing another on the bed beside your waist, leaning forward slightly. “someone’s eager tonight, huh?” he teased, pulling back slightly before pushing back in. you nodded, and your eyes met his again as he began thrusting slowly but firmly, occasionally pressing against the most sensitive spot inside you.

your bottom lip was trapped between your teeth as you stifled moans timed with his hips. at the same time, he groaned as his pace quickened slowly. the plap plap plap of skin and soft sounds of wetness coming from the space between your thighs made you blush a deep crimson. your brows drew together as he continued. you could tell that he was riding the line between losing control and waiting on you to tell him how to proceed.

“n-need you to use me, please,” you begged. his mouth opened and he exhaled sharply, the warmth of his breath making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up in arousal. he shook his head, locking his eyes shut in an attempt to keep his hips at a consistent pace.

“i can’t, d-don’t want to hurt you,” he choked out. his whines filled the air as you tightened around him.

“i can take it baby, promise. making me feel so f-f-fucking good,” you responded. there was a slight doubt in the back of your mind, wondering if you could actually take it or if your cockdrunkenness had gotten the best of you, but there was only one way to find out.

his hips picked up in speed after what felt like an eternity as he contemplated his options. “tell me if it hurts then, alright? i don’t know how- fuck- long i’ll last,” he said. he moved a hand to the back of your head, pushing your face gently into the soft material of his bed. strong fingers grabbed at the base of your scalp, tugging just enough for you to feel it. his other hand slid down the slope of your back and stopped at the deepest part of your arch, gently pushing it down down down. 

an unintelligible string of curses and pleading words fell from your lips as he let go, allowing his body to take control. the slap of his his hips against your own grew louder as he let out a long, deep groan. “t-taking it so good for me baby, taking me d-deep like that,” he said through clenched teeth. his newfound animalistic nature caused you to clench around him tighter, eyes rolling back in pure bliss.

the lewd noises and shallow breaths continued to fill the room as he worked his way up to pounding into you, causing you to press your face into the bed to muffle your near screams. your elbow covered your face in embarrassment, the knowledge that you’ve never come undone like this making you question your identity. the thick hand on your head pulled you up again, calling you back to reality. “let me hear how you sound pretty thing, y-you wanted it like this didn’t ya?” he said lowly in your ear, his hips moving impossibly faster. 

your eyes crossed and your sounds grew more desperate as you tried and failed to come up with a response. who could blame you? this was the best fuck you’ve had in god knows how long and all you could do is savor it and hope it never ended. the movement of his cock in and out of your tight cunt brought him closer and closer to the edge.

a sheen of sweat coated both of your bodies as his hips stuttered and you slipped a hand between your legs to rub your swollen, aching clit. “y-y-yes, wanted you s-so fuckin’ bad,” you admitted, letting your instincts take over. his grip on your hair tightened and he moved his other hand to secure your hips in place so he could hit that spot over and over again.

“gonna cum for me gorgeous? n-need to see that pussy fuckin’ gush around me,” he said in an almost mocking manner. “gonna make me cum too, s-so tight around me.” if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was just about babbling over how good you were fucking back onto his thick cock, letting it stretch you with every thrust inside. 

“mhm, g-gonna cum for you baby, need yours too,” you said breathlessly. his eyes widened as a lightbulb went off in his head as he understood what you said. “wanna feel you f-fill my pussy,” you whined, confirming what he already knew.

your legs pressed together and tensed again, letting him know you were getting close to your second climax of the night. nanami sat upright again, placing both hands on your hips and driving himself into you at a constant, punishing pace.

“r-ready to take it all? wan’ me to fill this pretty pussy with my h-hot fucking load?” he said excitedly. soft mhms left your lips as you nodded, shutting your eyes tight and letting yourself go around him. you felt yourself gush and convulse around him, your throbbing cunt driving him over the edge as he let out a series of high pitched noises. his seed spilled into you, coming out in short bursts that kissed against your cervix. his thrusts slowed but kept hitting you deep as his orgasm slowed and you came down from your high, trembling slightly from overstimulation.

he pulled out slowly, giving you a chance to readjust to the empty feeling again. his eyes were fixed on your cunt. you felt his cum dribbling out and you reached a hand back to stuff some of it back into your pussy, not wanting it to go to waste on the hotel’s bright white sheets. 

you found yourself flipped onto your back as nanami kissed you deeply, cupping your jaw and slipping his tongue in and out of your mouth slowly but shamelessly. your hands made their way into his hair and slowly stroked his scalp and the back of his neck, fingers ghosting over his damp skin. after a moment he pulled away, laughing breathlessly. “was that okay for you? i didn’t hurt you or anything, did i?”

your face took on a sarcastic expression of disbelief, your eyebrows raising sharply. “did i sound like i didn’t enjoy it? i’ll have to practice my moans then i guess.” he smiled and flopped down beside you, propping himself up on an elbow to study your post-sex face for a little longer. you looked over at him and you both burst into a fit of giggles, the endorphins kicking in and making you smile like a loon.

“i guess so, maybe we should do this again. wanna go out sometime?”

[baby-stay92]

Movie Night

Pairing: Idol!Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

SMUT (MDNI)

Warnings: Hand-fun (both recieving), P in V & unprotected sex (wrap before you tap) - (Let me know if I’ve forgotten any)

WD: 1.939

Credit: baby-stay92

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After what had seemed to be the most stressful week ever for you boyfriend Hyunjin, you had decided to surprise him with a nice saturday night dinner and his favourite movie. You had spent the good part of 3 hours preparing and cooking the meal, whilst Jinnie was at dance practice with his band members. You even challenged yourself by making homemade chocolate mousse for dessert which, by the look of things, seemed to be turning out okay. Around 6pm you got a message from Jinnie, saying that practice was over and he’d be home in about half an hour. You quickly answered him back, saying that you had missed him and that you had a surprise ready for him, when he came home. You rush to your shared bedroom, where you quickly change into a tight red cocktail dress and Hyunies favourite high heels of yours. You sat at your vanity mirror and quickly touched up your make up and added some slightly pink lipstick. Once you were satisfied with your outfit, you went back to the kitchen and started setting the table, complete with candle light and a single rose as the centrepiece. Once everything was to your liking, you sat down on one of the bar stools in the kitchen and started scrolling through your phone, waiting for Hyunie to come home. Soon enough you heard the sound of keys unlocking the front door, making you get up from your seat and head down the hallway to greet your beloved boyfriend.

“Honey! I’m home!” He called out whilst hanging up his coat and kicking off his sneakers. You stopped a few steps away from him and smiled widely at him as he turned towards you.

“Welcome home, babe!” You hugged him tightly and continued: “I’ve got a surprise for you!” 

“Hold on, princess.” He smiled down at you, before spinning you in around slowly, so he could drink in every inch of you. “God, you look ethereal, my muse.”

You giggled and felt yourself blush from his compliment. You kissed him quickly before grabbing his hand, dragging him down the hall to the kitchen where the food was on the table, all ready for you both.

“Wauw, babe!” he smiled at the sight. “It looks delicious!” he added and pulled you closer to the table. 

“Oh, I’m glad you like your surprise.” You smile and bite your lip. “How about you go change real quick, so we can eat, huh?” You suggest and he agrees before leaving for the bedroom. 10 short minutes later Hyunie returned, now dressed in dress pants, nice shoes and a simple white dress shirt, he had also managed to quickly fix up his hair, no doubt helped by some dry shampoo.

“Well, well, well!” You smile at him as he leans down to kiss you lightly. “You sure clean up nicely, Mr. Hwang” You add as he pulls out your chair, for you to sit down, before sitting down across from you.

“I thought it best to match your outfit, future Mrs. Hwang.” He replied from across the table. Him calling you his future wife, made you blush again and deep down, you just couldn’t wait for that day you’d get to marry him. After serving you a well-filled plate, he served himself before pouring the wine that you had bought for the occasion.

“Cheers to reaching the end of a stressful week.” You smile as you hold up your glass for him to cheer with you.

“And cheers to you, for always being my rock.” He added and let his glass lightly tap yours, making a ding sound. You both enjoy the meal and talk about the week that’s past, but also the weeks that’s to come. After dinner you start clearing the table, being the hallmark version of a good girlfriend.

“Want any help, princess?” Jinnie asks as he gets up from his seat.

“Actually, would you please go put on the movie? I’ve left it on the coffee table.” You smile, walking towards the kitchen sink to rinse the plates, before putting them in the dishwasher.

“I can do that, love.” he nods and leaves for the living room.

After a while you were both cuddled up on the couch under a blanket. He had an arm around your shoulders and you were leaning against his chest. You caught yourself readjusting as the two main characters in the movie started making out, which embarrassingly turned you on slightly, much to your own surprise. You couldn’t help but wonder if the gorgeous man next to you noticed, but you didn’t dare look at him, in fear of giving it away. But soon enough you learned that the movie couple making out, and now undressing each other, clearly also got him hot and bothered. This was proven by the growing tent of the blanket covering Hyunies lap. You bit your bottom lip and slyly moved your hand to his thigh, where you slowly let it move higher and higher, until you heard him clear his throat. You still didn’t look at him, but simply let your hand palm him over his dress pants.

“Honey…” He groaned lowly. “The movie isn’t over yet” He added, but you could clearly hear the pleasure in his voice.

“And?” You smirked to yourself and quickly undid the button on his pants before unzipping them as well. He didn’t stop you, as a matter of fact, he only moved to give you better access to his semi hard cock. You sat up next to him, quickly pausing the movie before you begin to pump him under the blanket and before you knew it he moved a hand to your thigh, pushing up your dress. As his hand reached for your rather wet centre, a low groan escaped his lips.

“No underwear, huh, princess?” He whispered between moans.

“Didn’t want them to get in the way.” You whispered back, your cheeks turning a light pink. He didn’t respond, he just pushed your thighs apart, before letting his fingers part your lips so he could rub circles on your needy clit. Pleasure filled moans slipped form the both of you and filled the room, as you felt your orgasm coming closer and closer.

“God….S-so close…” You breathed out as you shut your eyes from pleasure, preparing for you to reach your high.

“Good, cum for me, baby” Hyunie Moaned from beside you, knowing what his words did to you. His honey-like voice, pushed you over the edge, ensuring your orgasm to come crashing down on you. He didn’t let you ride out the high, before he grabbed your hand that was still pumping him, forcing you to let go of him as he pulled you on top of him, causing the blanket to fall to the floor. You straddled him, causing your dress to ride up over your hips, your wet and dripping pussy now on display as it hovered over his rock hard dick. You lowered yourself to grind against him as you crashed your lips onto his, needing to feel as much of him as possible. He eagerly kissed you back, soon running his tongue against your lips, begging for you to let him in. You gladly parted your lips, letting your tongues dance together as you felt his hands on your hips. He lifted you up, so he could align himself with your aching hole, using one hand. Without wasting any time, he pushed you down on him - hard. You threw your head back in a loud moan, breaking the kiss as he stretched you around him. God you loved the feeling of your pussy stretching to fit him, the pain was nothing but pure pleasure to you and it almost had you coming again already. Before you could gather your thoughts about what just happened, he started to lift you up off him before slamming you back down, over and over and over again. For each time, your moans grew a little louder, to the point where you for a split second wondered if the neighbours would come knocking to complain. But honestly, you didn’t care - all that mattered to you was the sweet pain-filled pleasure that was being delivered by the feeling of Hyunies dick filling you up, deep inside. He managed to hit that magical spot with every thrust, which no longer surprised you. You knew that he was gifted at hitting your sweet spot just right, as so did he, for that matter. He, in fact, took great pride in knowing that only he had ever managed to hit that spot.

“Good you look so fucking good, bouncing on my like this, sweet baby” he smirked, looking up at you as he moved one hand from your hip. He let it run up your body, making its way to your throat, where he quickly grabbed onto you, and squeezed. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as the pleasure of being choked by his big veiny hands flushed over you, you loved when he was rough on you, especially when he at the same time, called you sweet pet names. The conflict of the two very different vibes, simply did your head in - and he knew that. He knew that if he wanted your orgasms to be more intense, all he had to do was to mix rough actions with sweet words and god, was he a master at it. He tightens his grip on your throat a bit more as he moved to your ear and whispered:

“That’s it, muse, ride me like your life depended on it” He nibbled at your earlobe as he stopped guiding you up and down on him, now letting you work for pleasure by yourself. You quickly started rocking your hips back and forth, the pleasure still building in your stomach, that familiar knot tightening more and more. His now free hand found its way to your clit, where it immediately started rubbing circles, drawing you even closer to the edge. Suddenly Hyunie began to grind along with you, making it obvious that he, too, was getting close to that sweet release. Both of you started moving more and more frantically and once again both of Jinnies hands were on your hips. You were both hunting the explosion, begging to happen. Not long after, the both of you moaned loudly as you flung over the edge together, causing you to fall forward against him as you slowed down your grinding as you rode out your shared highs. You stayed there for a good minute, letting your breathing calm just a little, before rolling off of Jinnie who was also breathing heavily.

“That wasn’t exactly planned” You giggled and turned Hyunies head to face you before kissing him lovingly.

“But I’m not complaining”, you added after breaking the kiss.

“Neither am I” he smiled softly down at you, his eyes dark from hunger. Without another word he stood up, turned the movie off and quickly scooped you up into his arms before carrying you to the bathroom, so you both could clean up after what had just happened. Once you were both clean and had changed into comfier clothes, Hyunie carried you, princess style, to your bed, where he carefully laid you down before joining you. He pulled the sheets over the two of you and you cuddled in close to him, feeling tired and worn out.

“Goodnight, princess” he murmured before kissing your forehead.

“Goodnight, my prince” you replied tiredly before closing your eyes and giving in to the tiredness.

[dpr-stay]

Love Lost! | LN4

Lando Norris x Reader

Warnings: A little bit of the feels, jealous!Lando, hurt/comfort, happy ending, a little bit of drunken confessions but not really, childhood bestfriends to lovers bcs i love that trope.

WC: ~3.2K

Hiya, it's been a few weeks. I've been really busy and kinda lost my inspo to write, so this is me dipping my toe back in. Hopefully it's ok. NOT EDITED (not much has changed huh)

There comes a point in every young person's life where they must look back at what they have done and realise how they could’ve done it greater. Done it faster. Done it kinder. Done it better. Whether it be a choice, an action, or some words, reflection and acknowledgement are key milestones in the development of a person's life.

Lando has had many of these moments. Such as when he had first set foot in a kart, he should’ve done it earlier. His debut season, he should’ve done it better. His schooling, he should’ve put more effort in. The realization of his feelings for his childhood best-friend, he should’ve done it faster.

It was all he could think as his eyes caught you at the bar with some random nobody leaning over your side, obviously trying to chat you up. He took a sip of his surprisingly bitter drink as he watched. The drink shouldn’t have been bitter, it was some fruity cocktail he’d bought for you before you’d arrived, but the look you were giving the guy who you were talking to certainly made it so.

The tightening of his chest went unaddressed as his first clenched around the glass stem, his mind begging to ignore the way your smile had shifted from the fake one you gave to creeps to one not dissimilar from the way you smiled at him. An elbow jolted into his side, causing his eyes to draw away from the bar, though his mind remained around 15 feet away.

One of his mates, some guy he’d met a week ago who wasn’t after his money but wouldn’t say no to sixteen free drinks, looked at him concerned. Atleast Lando thought the look was concerned, he couldn’t exactly tell as the guy's face was hidden behind a pair of douchey shades. He shouldn’t think that though, he probably owned at least ten pairs that looked the exact same.

The guy moved his head again in a silent gesture and Lando nodded, hiding his suffering behind the pretense of not stopping this guy from getting laid, returning the silent gesture. He then shrugged before moving on, quickly running up to a group of girls and placing his arms around the shoulders of two, leaving Lando to continue stewing.

Really, it wasn’t stewing. He had no reason to ‘stew’. He’d only discovered he’d felt this way recently, he hadn’t been silently grudging for years. However, as his eyes moved back to the bar and watched as the guy's hand slid from your shoulder to your back, he could definitely feel the pot boiling over within him. 

You hadn’t moved though, there was no indication that you were uncomfortable from your body language, so Lando had to accept that he wasn’t able to intervene. He trusted you as much as he liked you unfortunately, so he knew that you’d walk away or even signal if you didn’t like where this was going. He couldn’t rush in and be a knight in shining armour if there was no damsel in distress, no matter how much he hated it.

He slid down in his seat, trying not to appear too stalkerish to any people at the club as he watched the two of you interact. Last thing he wanted was rumors of him being a voyeur spreading around the media. It wouldn’t be too far off with the way the guy you were talking to was going. His hand was still sliding lower, moving from your mid back all the way down till it met the seat of the chair.

Lando could hardly hear the music pumping through the club, only focused on your body language. One slight flinch or look of discomfort and Lando would take that as his cue to storm over and create such a row that he would be heard in Azerbaijan. 

However, you didn’t move away. Lando could only watch as you adjusted in your seat, letting the guy's hand slide under your behind. You definitely didn’t need any help. The drink tasted almost acidic when Lando next took a sip, forcing himself to turn away from the bar. He came here for a good time, he didn’t need to see you getting it on.

He cleared his throat, though no one could hear him and no one had even paid attention to him in an hour. A quick glance around the club confirmed this, people engaged with their own activities while he was sat, watching someone he was in love with get hit on.

That’s not pathetic, is it? Lando thought it would be more pathetic if he acted on his impulses, walked over and stopped the random guy in his tracks. You’d probably be mad (would you?) and he didn’t think he could deal with it. Especially after watching what was happening in front of him.

I mean, you’d definitely been mad at him before, knowing a person for over a decade does that to someone, but he didn’t know how mad you would be. He’d never been in this situation before, one where he had to put his drink down and sit on his hands to stop them from punching the guy in the face. 

The fact that this was one hundred percent not healthy was all that Lando could think. He shouldn’t be putting himself through this, watching someone else touch you how you wanted to be touched. How he wanted to touch you.

God, he should leave. There was no point in staying here just to torture himself. He was a voyeur, not a sadist. He took a breath before chugging the drink you had insisted you couldn’t have because you wanted to pay for your own and then standing up and lumbering his way to the exit.

Doing the responsible thing, he arranged for an uber as he walked down the corridor to the door. The fresh air that greeted him sent a wave of feeling down his spine. He walked further away from the cue to get into the club, praying that no one would recognise him as he walked.

Luckily, no one did. Lando didn’t know if this made him feel better or worse.

It’s a funny thing, that. Lando normally liked being in the spotlight. Maybe it was growing up always being unwittingly compared to others, but he liked being special. Even in times Lando didn’t want to be recognised, because he truly didn’t at the moment, he still craved that little serotonin boost whenever someone would turn to him with stars in their eyes. 

It felt nice to be revered, nice to be seen as greater, all those things he didn’t consider himself. You’d always provided that for him. He didn’t want to come off as shallow or as a user, but your everlasting presence in his life, your consistent praise, had always made him feel good. 

God, that did make him come off as shallow. It went without saying, he thought, that he always tried to return the favour. The way you always smiled bashfully in response to his compliments always made his day brighter. 

He almost swore out loud into the empty street as he walked. He should’ve realised earlier. He’d never taken himself as the boy-next-door type, mostly because he was always someplace else, but the idea of domesticity with a person who he’d always been around, especially since it was you, made him feel incredibly warm inside. 

A warmth he doesn’t feel often. It had only come around a few times in his life, but the most notable would’ve had to have been around two weeks earlier. He was just lying in bed, you on the phone rambling about whatever you were now interested in.

Every one of his responses were some variation of “yeh” but that didn’t stop you. Eventually you’d tired yourself out and Lando had finally got a word in. He’d made some tired quip about you “never shutting up”. You’d responded in like, a joke about him not being able to keep up. You’d gone back and forth with your banter before eventually you’d both called it quits and said goodnight. 

Lando hadn’t even registered the fact he was about to say “I love you” as a sign-off before you’d hung up on him until the quiet beeping of his phone sounded. That had made him really, truly think about your years-long friendship, pondering about whether he had meant that platonically or romantically.

It hadn’t taken long for him to figure it out. After ten minutes an itching had settled in his mind that he should call you back and force you to continue talking. He missed your voice, even if it was you ranting about something he had no idea about. Even the thought of it had inspired a familiar warm feeling to bloom within him.

The warm feeling had still been present in the club, even if it was accompanied by the crushing weight of feeling mediocre. Lando almost scoffed at himself as he mindlessly kicked a rock as he walked. 

His earlier thoughts ran through his mind, cursing himself for thinking it pathetic to try and stand up for his own feelings. He should’ve said something at any point. Now you were probably dancing with the guy, ignoring the fact that Lando wasn’t even in the club.

That wasn’t true, of course. You were too kind. Something that Lando had always appreciated but made it incredibly hard in situations such as this one. The buzzing of his phone alerted him to this, a single text from you reading ‘Where r u?’

Completely inconspicuous but oh so characteristic. The shorthand made it clear you were busy, you were never one for abbreviations, but Lando refused to think about what you were busy with. He didn’t think you were ‘easy’, god no he wasn’t an ass, but he’d never seen you click so fast with someone to the point that you’d let them put their hands on you like that.

Lando didn’t know how to respond, instead checking the time on the Uber. There was no way that many people were getting Uber’s that it was a twenty minute wait. He could only sigh before scrolling back to your text. 

An answer that properly conveyed his dilemma evaded him, so he just replied with a ‘Going home’ before quickly tacking on a ‘Have fun :)’ because he felt it was rude not to. After hitting send, he put his phone in his pocket before leaning against the wall of the building closest to him, staring straight into the night sky. 

He’d only have a few minutes of respite before a familiar call of his name sounded in his ears. His head swung down out of shock, watching your hasty figure make your way towards him. You were swaying on the heels you were regretting wearing, your purse having your essentials halfway out of it.

“What the hell, man?” You asked as you stumbled closer, the drink you’d bought yourself making your already unsteady steps seem as though you’d fall over if you went too close to a crack in the pavement. 

He could only look on in incredulity as you stopped in front of him, one of your hands reaching for his arm to balance yourself. He quickly reacted, sweeping you into his side, before turning his head to look at you.

“I thought you were going to stay back.” His voice had a tone of question to it and you shook your head, swaying violently side from side as you moved it.

“No, I came with you. Gonna leave with you too.” Your words were mumbled as you spoke them, the drowsiness you felt becoming incredibly apparent. Lando tried not to react, though he found it incredibly hard. The knowledge that you’d never even planned to leave with anyone but him reassured him. The feeling he got from that reassurance made him slightly uncomfortable. As much as it made him regretful that he didn’t act earlier, no one owned you and you could do whatever you liked.

The words you spoke awoke a feeling that had been increasing ever since that phone call, the previous events of the night also hadn’t done it any favours. That feeling was protectiveness. 

“Would you like me to take you home?” He asked and you nodded against his side. He held you there while you swayed, thinking over what the feeling coursing through his veins entailed. Was it right to feel protective over something that definitely wasn’t yours?

Lando was left to ponder this as you both waited for the cab. He didn’t know if that question explicitly applied to this situation. Maybe you weren’t each others in a relationship sense, but you were definitely each others in a friendship sense. Hell, he’d consider himself yours in any circumstance. He just didn’t know if you thought the same.

As the Uber pulled up the curb, Lando walked you both over. Quickly opening the door and guiding you in, he then rushed to the other side and got in the car. He gave the driver the address of your house before leaning back into his seat.

It took approximately five seconds after the car had started that your head fell on his shoulder. He froze, not daring to move a muscle in fear that he would disrupt your sleep. A quick glance down out of the corner of his eyes showed that you actually weren’t asleep, you were staring up at him. Your eyes looked as though they were shining as they stared at him, and he couldn’t help the heat rushing to his cheeks

Your expression looked starstruck, as though you’d never seen him before. He quickly tapped your shoulder in a silent ‘you okay?’ gesture. You didn’t respond, causing him to look down and look at you.

Unknowingly, he had positioned you at eye level with each other. He could feel the breaths escaping your lips as you breathed out, the closeness a feeling he decided he would cherish because of the highly unlikely chance of ever feeling it again.

Or he could call it, lean in and deal with the repercussions. He was tempted, of course, it would be such an easy way to just rip the bandaid off. He wouldn’t have to deal with a confession or the rejection. He could just lean in for a few seconds then open the door of the Uber and roll out, never having to see you again to face the rejection he could sense. 

After a few seconds he pulled the plug, deciding that the longer he held his head so close to yours, the creepier it came off. Neither of you talked the rest of the journey, relying on the old tunes of Oasis that the driver decided to put on.

Eventually, you arrived at your address. One look at Lando convinced him to walk you inside. He’d call another Uber, regardless of wait times.

You opened the door to your building, holding it open for Lando which he acknowledged with a smirk. You just rolled your eyes, the moment from the Uber well and truly passed. Regardless, you both moved to your elevator, moving in as you clicked the button of your floor. 

There wasn’t many people around, it was too late, so it was just you and Lando in the elevator. A space that would normally be full of conversation was unusually quiet. 

Lando knew why he was quiet, he was recalling the moment in the Uber, slightly mourning what could’ve happened if only he was braver. He didn’t know why you were quiet, probably thinking about how weird he was acting.

But, frankly, the night was almost over. Just another couple of minutes and Lando could start the journey home, able to think over how that man had touched you and how he would never be able to do that. He should definitely try to move on. It would be too uncomfortable to spend a long amount of time secretly loving his best friend.

The lift dinged and you both walked over, moving side by side down the corridor till you eventually reached your door. You both paused outside your door. You didn’t make any move to grab your key and instead just looked at Lando, an unfamiliar look on your face. You almost seemed resigned. Lando didn’t know why.

You then sighed before moving to your purse, rummaging for a second before pulling out your key. A quick turn and your door was open. You turned back to Lando, a small smile on your lips.

“Goodnight Lando.” You said sweetly and Lando returned the gesture quietly, pulling you in for a small hug. After you separated, you seemed to hesitate for a second before shaking your head and going inside. Lando watched you close the door and heard it click before he called out one last ‘goodbye’.

Except the words that left his lips were not ‘goodbye’. They were ‘love you’. Completely unconscious slip of the tongue but it resulted in Lando completely freezing. How the hell had he done that?

He couldn’t hear any footsteps from your side of the door and Lando was left gaping as he processed what he said and the fact that you definitely heard. It was way past the time to say it was an accident when he regained any sort of agency.

He immediately turned away from your door, poised as though to make a getaway. However, the sound of your door opening stopped him. Oh god, how was he going to write this off.

He slowly turned, making eye contact with you as you stood in the doorway of your apartment. Your expression was more shocked than blank, but it was definitely on the border. He could see the question in your face, but he could only respond with his completely gobsmacked expression.

He didn’t know what you took this to mean, but you smiled. A bright smile. A smile more radiant than any one he’d seen you give the man from the bar. It took you a second to gather your thoughts to speak, he could see you formulating something to say in your mind.

“I love you too.” Was your response and if Lando’s jaw could drop further, it did. He was not expecting any of this. If he were to confess his feelings, he thought there would’ve been a lot more of his tears involved and a lot more planning. However, here you were, shyly returning his feelings. A smile that matched your own spread across his face and you giggled at his reaction.

“Really?” He asked dumbly, something you’d tease him about later. You nodded.

It took him less than two seconds to cross from where he was standing awkwardly in the corridor to your door frame, and it took him even less time to kiss you.

And, for once, Lando felt relieved that he didn’t do anything a different way.

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