#but with a collection of interesting outfits instead

[pdriesta]

a love like this — 1

an — a series of blurbs based on the main couple of "something real”. if you’re someone that read it, let me know if you have requests <3

the champions league win party was alive with the kind of energy that only comes from a hard-earned victory. the room pulsed with music, laughter, and the collective joy of a team that had conquered europe. lights danced across the walls, casting playful shadows and giving the space an almost magical glow. in the midst of it all, jude stood on the dj stage, his face alight with exuberance and just enough alcohol to make him fearless.

y/n, who had always been the quiet observer, stood with the wives and girlfriends of the players, her heart swelling with pride. she watched jude, her eyes tracing the way he moved and spoke, her emotions a mix of adoration and gratitude. over the past nine months, she had witnessed his incredible growth, not just as a player, but as a person. his determination, his late-night training sessions, and his relentless pursuit of excellence had all led to this moment. and she couldn’t have been prouder.

their relationship had always been a secret, something they cherished for its intimacy and depth. while the world speculated about jude’s romantic interests, assuming he was involved with glamorous models, no one knew the truth. to them, y/n was a mere shadow, her name unspoken and her role in jude’s life a mystery. they had no idea that behind closed doors, jude returned home to her, where their relationship was quiet and true, far from the public eye.

but what jude couldn’t take his eyes off was her.

she wasn’t in her usual work attire tonight, no reserved outfit or team jacket. instead, she’d slipped into his jersey, cropped at the hem to show off a sliver of her stomach, paired with a black leather skirt that hugged her curves in all the right ways. her braids were pulled back just enough to show her face, glowing under the soft lights, and jude swore he’d never seen her look more incredible. the way the jersey hung on her—his number, his name across her back—made something primal stir inside him.

he’d never get to see her like this in public, not in front of the whole team, the media, the world. their relationship was theirs, private and tucked away from prying eyes. but tonight? she made an exception. for him.

he was losing his mind over it.

jude made his way through the crowd, eyes locked on her, his smirk widening as he caught the hint of a shy smile pulling at her lips. she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

"come here, baby?" he murmured as he reached her, his hand immediately finding her waist, pulling her close enough that he could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of his jersey. his fingers traced the exposed skin just above her skirt, slow and deliberate, like he couldn’t get enough of the feel of her. "my jersey... looks even better on you."

"thought i'd make an exception for tonight," she teased, her voice soft but filled with that playful edge he loved so much. "don’t get used to it."

jude leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear, the scent of his cologne mixed with the alcohol on his breath sending a shiver down her spine. “oh, i’m already used to it, baby. might need you to start wearing this more often… especially at home.”

her heart raced, the heat of his body pressed against hers, his voice low and sultry, dripping with unspoken promises. she felt the tension between them thickening, the flirtation laced with something far more heated.

"you look incredible," he whispered, his hand moving down to the curve of her hip, squeezing gently. "everyone's staring at you, you know? can’t blame them… but they have no idea that you’re all mine.”

y/n tilted her head up to meet his gaze, her lips parting slightly as she caught the hunger in his eyes. it was rare, seeing him this worked up in public, this openly enamored with her. she couldn’t help the flush that crept up her neck, knowing just how much he wanted her in this moment. “i’m not used to all the attention,” she admitted softly, but there was a teasing lilt in her tone. “you sure you’re okay with sharing me for the night?”

jude chuckled, his lips brushing against her ear, sending a delicious shiver down her spine. “sharing? nope. you’re just reminding everyone who you belong to.”

his words made her stomach flip, a mixture of pride and desire curling through her. she loved this side of him—the possessive, confident way he claimed her without ever needing to say it outright. it was in the way he touched her, the way his eyes darkened every time someone looked their way, like he wanted the whole world to know she was his.

and tonight, just for tonight, she didn’t mind. she’d wear his jersey, let the world speculate, because at the end of the night, they both knew exactly where they were going, and exactly who they belonged to.

“you’re trouble, jude bellingham,” she teased, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palm.

he grinned, pulling her closer, his lips ghosting over the side of her neck. “you love it though.”

her breath hitched, the sensation of his lips against her skin sending a thrill of excitement through her. she knew they were still in public, that they had eyes on them, but the way he was looking at her made it hard to care.

“maybe,” she whispered back, her voice barely audible above the music, but jude heard it loud and clear. his hand tightened on her waist, his fingers grazing the hem of her skirt, dangerously close to teasing her even more.

“when we get home, you’re not taking this jersey off,” he murmured, his lips brushing against hers, so close but not quite touching. “i want to see you like this for the rest of the night.”

her pulse quickened, a blush creeping up her cheeks at the thought of what was to come. “bold of you to assume i’m going home with you,” she teased, but her tone was playful, knowing full well they both knew where the night was headed.

jude’s grin widened, his eyes glinting with mischief. “oh, you’re coming home with me. you’re mine, y/n.”

her stomach flipped again at the possessiveness in his tone, the fire in his gaze. it was a side of jude she rarely saw in public, and it was intoxicating.

"we'll see," she whispered, but the challenge in her voice was light, playful, her heart already set on following him home.

he chuckled, pulling her even closer, his lips finally brushing against hers in a kiss that promised so much more than just victory.

a few moments later, jude was pulled back on stage before he take the kiss further. y/n continued causal conversations with the partners around her until she heard the music lower.

“buenas noches a todos,” jude began, his voice slightly unsteady but filled with affection. “good evening everyone.” he looked out over the crowd, his eyes searching for y/n’s face. when he found her, his smile widened, and he continued, his spanish slightly slurred but earnest. “i want to say a few words about someone very special to me.”

y/n felt her heart flutter as jude’s gaze locked on her. her cheeks flushed as she realized he was talking about her. she tried to hide her face, feeling a mix of embarrassment and joy.

“ella está ahí,” jude said, pointing straight at her. “she’s right there.”

the crowd turned, and y/n could feel the weight of their curiosity and admiration. she buried her face in her hands, trying to hide the blush that had spread across her cheeks.

“y/n es la razón por la que sonrío cada día,” jude continued, his voice filled with warmth. “y/n is the reason I smile every day.” the sincerity in his words made her heart swell, a tear slipping down her cheek.

their relationship had been one of quiet support and deep understanding. they had chosen to keep it private, a sanctuary away from the glare of the public eye. jude’s accomplishments, his dreams realized on the grandest stages, were always shared with y/n first. she had been there through the highs and lows, offering encouragement, sharing the burdens, and celebrating the victories.

“ella ha sido mi apoyo en cada paso del camino,” jude said softly. “she’s been my support every step of the way.” his words were a testament to their shared journey, to the nights spent talking about dreams and the days spent working towards them.

y/n’s eyes sparkled as she peered out from behind her hands, touched by jude’s heartfelt declaration. their love was something they cherished deeply, a beautiful secret that no one else understood. while the world saw only the surface, they knew the truth of their bond—how jude came home to her every night, how they built their lives together in the quiet moments away from the public eye.

“y te amo más de lo que las palabras pueden decir,” jude finished, raising his glass toward her. “and I love you more than words can say.” his gesture was filled with genuine emotion, and y/n’s heart ached with love.

as jude stepped down from the stage, his slightly unsteady gait did nothing to diminish the joy in his eyes. he made his way back to y/n, pulling her into a tight embrace. “how was that?” he asked, his voice a mix of playful and sincere.

y/n looked up at him, a mix of amusement and exasperation in her eyes. “jude, you told everyone my name and our relationship.”

jude’s face fell slightly, his inebriated mind struggling to keep up. “i forgot,” he admitted, pouting slightly. “i just wanted everyone to know you’re mine. please don’t be mad.”

y/n couldn’t help but smile at his earnestness, her heart softening despite her attempt at scolding him. she reached up and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, reassuring him. “i’m not mad at all,” she said softly. “it’s just that this was bound to happen eventually. i’m proud of you, trust me, i’m happy.”

jude’s face lit up, his earlier pout melting away into a genuine, joyful grin. “i’m glad,” he said, pulling her closer. “i want everyone to know how much i love you

y/n nodded, her heart swelling with warmth. “i know, baby, i know. and i’m looking forward to everything that comes next. the break, time with our families, trips together. everything as long as i get to be with you.”

with jude’s arm securely around her, and the room buzzing with celebration, y/n felt a sense of completeness. their love, once a secret, was now a cherished part of their journey, a testament to the strength of their bond and the bright future ahead. as they danced together, their hearts beat in harmony, a symbol of a love that was both private and profound.

the morning after the champions league victory was filled with the haze of a wild celebration. jude woke up with a pounding headache and a feeling of disorientation. he reached out for y/n, but the space beside him was empty. groggily, he stretched and stumbled out of bed, his movements slow and unsteady. the remnants of the night before clung to him, and he squinted against the bright sunlight streaming through the curtains.

as he made his way to the kitchen, the smell of coffee and breakfast wafted through the air. y/n was there, moving around the kitchen with practiced ease. jude paused, taking in the sight of her in her comfortable clothes, her hair still tousled from sleep. he felt a pang of regret for not having stayed more present during the celebration.

reaching for his phone on the nearby counter, he glanced at the screen and was instantly hit with a barrage of notifications. there were countless messages, missed calls, and news reports. his heart raced as he saw headlines about him and y/n, snippets of their intimate moments from last night, and pictures that clearly showed them together.

“what the hell?” jude muttered to himself, scrolling through the messages in disbelief. his head pounded harder as the reality of what had happened sank in. he grabbed his phone and hurried into the kitchen, where y/n was busy at the stove.

“baby!” he blurted out, his voice strained with a mix of panic and confusion. “someone leaked our relationship. look at this!”

y/n turned to him, her expression calm but her eyes full of understanding. she raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “yes, jude, that person was you. last night, you got a bit carried away on the dj stage.”

jude’s face went pale as he tried to piece together the events of the previous evening. “i did? oh god, i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to—”

“it’s alright,” y/n said, trying to suppress a smile. “i’m not really into social media, so it’s not a big deal to me. but it looks like you’re going to have to fight off your fans for me.”

jude walked over to her and pulled her into a tight embrace, resting his chin on the top of her head. “i’m really sorry, baby. i didn’t mean to cause any trouble. i just wanted everyone to know how much you mean to me.”

y/n looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with affection. “i know. and it’s sweet. we’ll just handle it together. besides, it’s not every day you get to have your love life out in the open.”

jude chuckled, his mood lifting despite the headache. “well, at least we can enjoy the fact that we’re finally able to be open about us. and if it means dealing with some extra attention, so be it.”

y/n grinned, teasingly nudging him. “just make sure you don’t make a habit of this. i’m not looking forward to fending off a horde of fans.”

jude laughed softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “deal. and thank you for being so understanding. i promise to make it up to you.”

as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the earlier chaos seemed to fade away. the morning sunlight cast a warm glow around them, and despite the unexpected turn of events, their love felt as strong and genuine as ever. they shared a tender moment, savoring the intimacy and connection that had always been their anchor.

“now,” y/n said, pulling away slightly with a playful smile, “how about some breakfast? you look like you could use it.”

jude nodded, his eyes brightening. “sounds perfect. and maybe a bit of coffee to help with this hangover?”

y/n laughed, guiding him to the kitchen table. “coming right up. and remember, no more public declarations especially when you aren’t sober.”

jude grinned, settling into his seat. “i’ll try my best. but you have to admit, it was kind of romantic, in a crazy, public way.”

y/n shook her head, her smile widening. “you’re insufferable, jude. but that’s one of the many things i love about you.”

as they sat down together, enjoying a quiet moment of normalcy after the whirlwind of the night before, jude felt a deep sense of contentment. despite the unexpected exposure, they were still together, facing everything side by side. and that, in itself, was all that mattered.

© PDRIESTA 2024

taglist — @sinners-98-world @stephiii29 @kcharlyy @landosgirlxoxo @judesthighveins @ilovelifes-world @cinderellawithashoe @imnyt @miniemonie2001 @lunamelona @treble-snot

[season-77]

Since we don't have new material for Tux Tuesday, I suggest "Anti-Tux Tuesday" – featuring unforgettable outfits we'd like to forget as soon as possible.

I've divided this unusual collection of outfits into two categories:

1. Stage and film costumes

2. Personal choices

Let’s get started, then.

1.a Undoubtedly, the colorful outfit from *The Take*.

1.b Something in a similar style from *The Wreckers*, where it's worth noting the interesting choice of accessories.

1.c My personal favorite: all the costumes from *The Last Weekend*, undoubtedly sewn from old, dirty rags.

Even Evans himself can't believe how captivating these outfits are.

1.d The costumes in *Until I Kill You* are inspired by an onion—under each layer, there's another one that's equally, hmm, intriguing.

1.e Come Rain Come Sunshine - I haven't seen the film, but in this outfit, Shaun would immediately win the casting for the next inspector in „Death in Paradise”

2.a The now-(in)famous outfit from the Toronto Film Festival—something casual for a movie premiere.

2.b A hat that suddenly realized its own uniqueness and decided to discreetly leave its owner.

2.c The well-known and (perhaps) beloved collection of colorful T-shirts.

2.d An interesting summer outfit (?) - a suggestion rather for the bold.

2.e And then there's this gem, something transcendent between private life and work, like 'I brought my own shoes from home because the work ones are way too tight so just film me from the knees up.'

Do you have any more suggestions?

[darknight3904]

All Yours, Coryo

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪:ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʜᴏᴏᴅꜱ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴀꜱ ʜᴇ ʙʀɪɴɢꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ꜰɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅᴛʜɪʀꜱᴛʏ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛᴜʀɴ.

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇx. ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ɴᴀɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ɪꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ʙʟɪɴᴅᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ'ꜱ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ꜱᴏ ꜱʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴀʟʟ ʜɪꜱ ʀᴇᴅ ꜰʟᴀɢꜱ. ꜱᴏ ᴀᴍ ɪ.

ɪ ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛʟʏ ʜɪᴛ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʏᴇꜱᴛᴇʀᴅᴀʏ ɪɴꜱᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴀᴠᴇ ꜱᴏ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴀᴡ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴇᴀʀʟɪᴇʀ, ɴᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ.

ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ.

Coriolanus has never been the easiest person to understand. His mind was always racing and it kept you on your toes. Even now as he fretted over his appearance in the mirror you could tell his mind was thinking of a million things beyond whether or not his tie fit him correctly.

"For what it's worth, I think you look perfect." You say, sipping at your drink, you had been ready for nearly twenty minutes while Coriolanus was still figuring out what tie matched his pants best.

"I'm sure you do but this isn't just any party, I'm campaigning tonight and everything must be perfect." He says adjusting his hair even though it already sat perfectly styled atop his head.

It was Coriolanus' 23rd birthday and instead of celebrating like you usually did, you were both spending it at a party full of people who might help him reach the presidency by the beginning of next year. You approach him and wrap your arms around him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

"It will be." You assure, pressing a kiss to his exposed neck where his makeup artist did a wonderful job at covering the marks you had left behind last night.

"If all goes well tonight, you might just become the first lady of Panem one day." He smiles at you through the mirror

"Does that mean we're getting married?" You laugh, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at the idea of being with him forever

"Maybe..." Coriolanus says suddenly avoiding your eyes as his face reddens under your gaze.

You giggle at your boyfriend's flustered face, despite how grown up he had become in the past few years he was still the same boy you met at the academy all those years ago who just wanted his own bowl of fruit to gobble down.

"You definitely wanna marry me, Coryo!" You say almost as if you had discovered a secret of his.

"Well if you're not interested I can always find another." He jests, finally tying his tie.

"Oh please, I'm the only one who could ever tolerate you." You smile as he spins around to face you and rests his hands on your hips

"That you are, darling, that you are." He smiles and presses a chaste kiss to your lips

Coriolanus is sure you are his favorite person in the entire world. From the way you'd laugh at his jokes to the way your nose whistled when you slept, he loved it all. Even now as the two of you had long abandoned your teenage years and stepped into adulthood, he knew he didn't want to lose you. His interactions with Lucy Gray and his time in District 12 had only solidified how he wanted you to stay close to him. He watches as you cross the room to slip into a pair of pretty high heels, he loved the way your dress sat on your body, it was perfectly fitted and he wondered what designer had been able to craft it so perfectly.

He looked back at the mirror and pretended to fiddle with his outfit again even though he knew he looked perfect. Instead, his eyes cast to the small table next to the mirror where a collection of photos sat you and him over the past five years. His favorite though was the one that was taken at your 17th birthday party. He remembered how warm it had been, and at one point someone had filled a bucket of water and tossed at you. He had expected you to cry out and push everyone out of your home but instead, he was met with your laughter and thus a water fight had begun. The picture of the two of you had been taken not even twenty minutes later, both of you were drenched but happy and you had linked your arms together right before the picture was taken. Sometimes he wished to go back to those moments, to relieve the last bits of his boyhood even though it meant going back to that decrepit building he once lived in and the taste of cabbage a constant on his tongue.

"Thinking about the past?" You ask from across the room.

"Thinking about how ugly we look here." He says picking up the photo

"Nonsense, we're adorable in that. If I remember correctly that was taken a few weeks before you tripped me in my room trying to slow dance and then you gave me the kiss of a lifetime." You smile

"I didn't trip you, you tripped me with your bad dancing." He laughed, returning the photo to its proper place among the others.

"Whatever you say, Coryo." You smiled, he could tell you didn't believe one word that came from his mouth about the tripping incident.

These parties were always a bit tedious for you. You enjoyed seeing Coriolanus happy among Capitol elites and you loved the lavish dresses you got to wear but sometimes it became overwhelming. The sheer amount of reporters that were always at these things is what drove you crazy. Coriolanus ate the attention up and answered all their questions about how he'd change Panem for the better but you were usually left answering questions about what your dress was made of or what your relationship was with Coriolanus. He often assured you that once he won the presidency he'd have more control over what was asked and that you'd never have to answer another dress question again. You hoped he won as soon as possible, it was tiring pretending this line of questioning was interesting.

"Is that real gold on your sleeves?"

"Is that ring on your finger an engagement ring?"

"Who did your hair for the evening?"

"Are you going to have the future president's children?"

"Did you seduce Coriolanus Snow for power in the Capitol?"

"How many toes do you have?"

God you wished they'd all shut up, or at least get better questions. Even just something as small as your involvement with your father's company would've been better than this. You ignored whatever trash was coming from their mouths and held on to Coriolanus' arm like he was going to disappear and end up back in District 12 again.

You remembered that day very well, after Coriolanus' tribute had won he had just disappeared despite promising to walk you home after the games had ended. When he didn't show up for graduation either, you found yourself outside Tigris and Grandma'am's new residence looking for answers. Tigris had told you what happened with him and that girl, Lucy Gray, how he cheated with rat poison and a handkerchief of his father's. At first, you had been distraught that he was sent off to District 12, stuck there for twenty years as some peacekeeping grunt, you'd be an ugly middle-aged woman by the time he got back! You had been in the pits of despair about your relationship with him but all it took was one terrifying meeting with Dr. Gaul to change your attitude. Once she revealed that Coriolanus would be back in the Capitol soon, and she was simply testing his dedication to the games, you relaxed. While Dr. Gaul might not have all her marbles you knew she wasn't lying, and sure enough, your Coriolanus returned to you in a matter of weeks.

However, he returned to you differently though. Sure, his head was shaved like all Peacekeepers and the curls you loved to play with were gone, but his attitude had also changed. Perhaps it was that Songbird he never wanted to speak of even now. You could never quite place what happened between Coriolanus and her, all that mattered to you was that he had assured you it wasn't romantic. Just shared ambitions to both win something. In her case her life and in his the Plinth Prize, not that that went well for her since she had disappeared shortly after she went home. You weren't quite sure what to make of Lucy Gray, the mysterious Songbird who had enchanted all of Panem just five years ago. You had only spoken to her once and it was just to compliment her singing during her interview. She hadn't exactly impressed you with her in that moment but she must have impressed Coriolanus at some point if he was willing to break rules for her.

Or perhaps his change was due to whatever training Peacekeepers went through and the death of Sejanus that had rocked the entire Capitol when he was revealed as a traitor, you knew Coriolanus had been close to him. Of course, despite all his changes and attitude adjustments, he never applied them to you. So, here you stayed by his side, happy that he still loved you the same. Soft touches and sweet words remained constant as the two of you aged and explored the advantages of adulthood. One of your favorite things about being 23 was moving out of your family's home and into the penthouse Coriolanus had chosen for the two of you. Waking up next to Coriolanus each day and seeing how he looked before his eyes fluttered open had to be your favorite part of the days you spent together. Brushing his hair from his eyes and counting the freckles that just barely brushed his pale skin was something you did daily until his pretty blue eyes met yours again. Once he did wake though, it was hard to get him to stay in bed with you. His peaceful state was always replaced with a man who was always working towards something, ambition was always fueling him.

You didn't mind his rough exterior that emerged each morning though, Coriolanus was cold and hard on everyone but you. Perhaps it was your shared childhood memories and teenage romance that prevented him from treating you coldly like he did poor Tigris but you weren't sure. One thing you did know was that the boy you grew up with was gone and a man stood in his place, brooding and cold to everyone but you.

"I'm going to get us a drink and then if you want we can dance." He whispered in your ear

"Can you get me that fizzy lemon drink they usually serve?" You ask

"Of course, I'll bring you some of those hors d'oeuvres you like with the cheese as well."

And then, he was gone from your side moving expertly through the crowd. That dazzling blonde hair accompanied by the broadest shoulders you've ever seen on a man disappeared among the throngs of people craning their necks to get a better look at the future president and his pretty face.

"A true marvel isn't he?" a voice to your right said

You turned to be met by none other than Lucky Flickerman, a drink in one hand and a young child's hand grasped in the other.

"I'm not interested in doing an interview, Lucky. If you want information on Coryo you can ask him yourself." You say, ready to walk away from the Capitol's favorite news anchor turned Hunger Games host.

"Coryo...what an interesting nickname, a bit childish for a man who might watch over us all soon. No matter, I would however absolutely love to report on you one day and maybe even that big business you're the heiress of, but I'm actually talking to you for this little one tonight." Lucky smiles motioning to the boy who you guessed was his son. "He was admiring that stunning dress of yours and I thought he might want to see it up close and personal."

For once you didn't mind being asked about your clothes as you crouched down to the little boy's height, he couldn't be more than 5 or 6.

"You have a good eye, would you like to feel the fabric? The designer I met with made it wonderfully soft." You smile, thinking of how Tigris had gushed over the blood-red fabric that would perfectly match Coriolanus' suit with you just weeks ago.

The boy reaches his hand out and brushes it along expensive fabric and a smile grows on his face.

"What's your name?" You ask

"Caesar." He says "I just turned 6 last week."

"Well, Caesar, six is a marvelous age to be, you can do all sorts of things at six. In fact, when I turned six I learned to ride a bicycle for the first time, I did however scrape my knees half a million times. I even still have a few scars on my knees would you like to see them?." You smile at him and he nods.

"Lucky Flickerman, I thought I told your producers that you weren't allowed to bother her with your idiotic questions the way the other reporters do. You clearly don't value your job, if you did you would have listened to my words." Coriolanus' voice suddenly fills your ears as you quickly right yourself, remembering how he once told you you'd have to start holding yourself with more decorum at these events. 'No more acting like a stupid teenager' had been his exact words one night when you were eating dinner together in your shared room.

"It's fine, his son wanted to say hello." You smile down at Caesar, take your lemon drink, and pop some of the food Coriolanus brought with him into your mouth. You sincerely hoped that you weren't about to witness Lucky being fired by the newest mastermind behind The Hunger Games and future the president.

From the corner of your eye, you see Coriolanus cast an intimidating look down at the boy and you resist the urge to elbow him in the ribs and force him to apologize to the poor child who was now cowering behind his father's stylish pant leg.

"I'll see you later, Lucky. We are going to go dancing now." Coriolanus says setting your barely sipped drink and food on a tray of a passing server before whisking you away.

"You're bad with children, Coryo." You say as he leads you towards the dance floor.

"And you're bad at reading people, darling." He says, ignoring the way you pouted at your loss of lemon drink and cheese-sprinkled food.

"What do you mean?" You ask, confused

"Lucky just wanted to get you to answer questions about me," Coriolanus says as he leads you in a dance, the both of you had gotten exceptionally better since your failure at 17 in your childhood bedroom.

"Oh." You say, a bit sad that he wasn't genuinely interested in you, just another dumb reporter who wanted news on Coriolanus' next move. It was amazing how Coriolanus always knew what others were thinking and how to approach a situation best.

"It's alright, just ignore him next time," Coriolanus says, gently squeezing your waist as a form of reassurance.

You nod and rest your head on his shoulder as you spin around the dance floor, suddenly wishing you were tangled up in bed with him rather than dancing in heels that were pinching your toes.

"Can I confess something to you?" Coriolanus whispers, his lips tickling your ear.

"Of course, always " You reply honestly

"I hate seeing you interacting with them." He says in a low voice.

"Them?" You ask

"These people. Seeing them ask you questions about your dress or hair, makes me want to toss them into the arena and watch one of Gaul's mutts rip them apart. I hate the way they look at you like you're a piece of meat attached to my side." He says, possessiveness lacing his tone.

"Oh...well I'm sure they don't all think that way." You try to reason, hoping that he wasn't right about this read on others.

"I doubt it. Look at that one by the fountain in the blue jacket." He says nodding to his right.

You glance over to the fountain and see an old man with a fluffy white beard and white hair to match. He seemed to be carefully watching you and Coriolanus spinning on the dancefloor but you weren't quite sure.

"I'm positive he's standing there imagining what it'd look like if this pretty dress was on the floor and you were on top of him," Coriolanus whispers, knowing it'll have you blushing in his arms.

"Coryo..." You say, trying to keep your composure as he presses his body to yours while you wonder if he's truly right and the old man across the pretty courtyard is truly ogling you.

"Too bad I'm the only one who will ever know what that looks like." He says a certain arrogance in his voice you can't quite place.

"Stop it." You scold, trying to hide the fact that your face is as red as your dress.

"Why? I can't wait to get back to our bedroom tonight and bring what's in my head to life." Coriolanus laughs, his voice was husky in your ears and making you weak in the knees.

"You're so embarrassing, Coryo." You say into his chest, avoiding that sharp gaze he had. How could someone act so well-composed but also have the dirty mind of a perverted teenage boy?

Coriolanus stops leading your dance and hooks a finger under your chin so you're looking up at him again. Sharp blue eyes that felt like they were staring into your soul looked at you, full of passion and want.

"My heart burns for you, darling, as it always has. You're mine, my perfect girl, all mine." He promises before swooping in to deliver what might qualify as the most monumental kiss in all of history.

A certain warmness spreads across your body as he kisses you in public for the first time. It's moments like this with your Coriolanus make your heart swell, these moments remind you that the little boy with the golden curls you met when you were just twelve lives on, just in a different way. You know the teenager you once ate cabbage soup and bread with sweet jam watches over you as you kiss his 23-year-old self, you know he's smiling at where the two of you are now. You're sure that the same boy who once spun you around your childhood bedroom to your favorite slow song is still here with you now, even if he rarely shows his face. Coriolanus Snow is always watching over you, every version of him envelopes you tonight as he shows the world who you are to him.

Your head spins and your lungs burn as you hear a few whoops and cheers from onlookers while others whisper about how Coriolanus' hands are wandering all over your body. You're sure the way he's kissing you is going to end up on some Capitol news reel tomorrow morning but you can't find the heart to care. Somewhere in his chest, you feel Coriolanus let out a deep groan when you run your hands through his hair ruining the way it was perfectly styled for the evening. You gasp when his teeth nip at your bottom lip and pull away, a gasp for air leaving your now surely swollen lips.

"All yours, Coryo." You assure him and lean in for another kiss.

You smile as he kisses back and couldn't care less about what the world around you thinks, you had your Coryo, the boy who you grew up with and ate cabbage together in his decrepit home, the same boy who danced with you despite his own lack of skill. You were with your Coriolanus, the man who was going to carry Panem into a new age of glory.

Part Three

Series Masterlist

Read the Teaser here

So I uh sorta ended up abandoning fluffy Coryo thoughts from part one and went with the reader's pov of him at 23, I hope that's okay with all of you. He still loves you though don't worry, it's just in his own Coryo way. His own magically manipulative Coryo way. I was initially going to make this part during the 10th Hunger Games but then I thought, wouldn't it be interesting to see how he interacts with reader post Lucy Gray considering how much she changes his ideals. To make things clear, every moment with Lucy Gray and Coryo has occurred and the reader is unaware of pretty much all of it here, obviously since she's so goo goo gah gah over him.

If you'd like more of my writings about Coryo and you, my fic Blank Space might be the read for you, it also has a part two that is available now You can read them both here. (Yes it's based on the Taylor Swift song)

Taglist:

@bl0ndelilac

@lucygreene

@lwqfhp

@belle643

@fantasylovestoryme

@alana4610

@threeinchminimum

@dangelnleif

@hannaeditzs

@1950schick

@ennycutie

@janelongxox

@ajs-222

@or-was-it-just-a-dream

@notlilyyyy

@nicksolemnlyswears

@diannana

@ashrsworld

@lokidala

@clintsupremacy

@brilliantreid

@badassbitch-21

@steppingonshatteredglass

@405rry @folklorde24

@eir964

@charlesswife

@fangirling-galore

[kingsandbastardz]

So for basically my whole life I'd grown up with and was resigned to accept that the chinese concept of formal/nice clothing of my and the previous generation has been western clothes. So at any awards ceremonies or performances, entertainers would show up mostly in western suits/dresses and maaaaaybe you'll spot the occasional cheongsam if they're going for a Wong Fei Hong vibe. Which, you know, kinda sucks if you have any concept of western cultural imperialism in asia.

So when the hanfu revivalist movement started, I was waiting to see when it would enter the mainstream -- my hope was for fashion designers to integrate traditional/dynastic elements into their work and make it common place enough that I can buy this shit online for ME. Because I WANT.

Though some of the designs can be a bit hit or miss, I am LOVING what various stars and entertainers are wearing out and about now.

Anyway - here's a collection of Xiao Shunyao's modern hanfu inspired/hybridized stage outfits from the last couple years. For his MLC performances, his stylists seem to be borrowing inspiration from his Di Feisheng and possibly other character costume silhouettes.

I'd been seeing a few comments about how his outfits play with gender - and some of his outfits do! But I think the interesting thing to discuss is from which standard is he playing with gender? Because from a western perspective, the things he does with his western suit tops, belting on top of the jacket for a tightly cinched waist, and the addition of a trailing skirt = femme. But if you're talking from a hanfu-hybridized pov, that's just a modern take on hanfu and having any of those elements is not inherently femme and would often read masc to me.

So these things aren't necessarily gendered because they exist traditionally in chinese men's clothing or costume designs (ie video games, comics, historical fiction illustrations and film, etc, so therefore in the modern lexicon of masculine/acceptable for men):

presence or lack of a skirt

silky, velvety, gauzy or sparkly material choice, esp in formal or stage clothing

short or long length of skirt

embroidery

flowers/floral/bird designs

folding fans

certain styles of makeup

beading, gold, tassels, jewels

non-chunky jewelry

headbands

widely flowing silhouettes

What XSY's stylists are doing with some western clothing items are interesting. I'm convinced there have been one or two western jacket tops made of thinner material that they're folding over the front, and belting down instead of buttoning (which then matches with his other outfits that are designed specifically to do this). Then they're adding a skirt, cloak or bracer element to it.

The western portions often bring a military minimalist feel which they balance with a more gauzy material in the skirt or cloak portions.

Things I think are playing with gender:

row 1 - image 1: red di feisheng-inspired outfit

The lace-up girdle is there to match the bracers in both material and style. And it's positioned to be similar to the heavy belt that Di Feisheng wears. HOWEVER. That style of girdle/corset-like clothing item can't be divorced from the modern idea of sexy leather corsets. So imo, this waist piece on that outfit was a choice. Especially when paired with his allergic-to-collars-higher-than-his-sternum necklines. And if you take into context how masculine yet female coded his character is in the drama, the whole look evokes that.

row 2, image 1: black western suit with belt on top, hat, cloak, black boots and not-visible but also a black tassel fringe skirt

Hat and cloak moves the intention of the outfit from western toward a more Asian slant, because alone, it looks like a western black suit with western heeled boots, cinched waist with a lady's belt (seated photoshoot) and western style tassel skirt. The suit top consists of a vest and a shrug-like sleeve portion that appears masculine at first glance. But take the shrug and pair it with the tassel skirt (I can't find the red carpet photos but here is a better view of the skirt when seated), and I think you got a look that's both intentionally edging toward the femme in a western sense but also confusing matters by hiding within the parameters of both western and chinese traditional male styling.

row 2 - image 2 : white asymetrical western jacket styled in a front fold-over style, gauze skirt, trailing pearl embellishments

The more traditional leaning version of this is the white outfit in row 3 that he wears to the Hi6 Hello Saturday variety show -- the skirt portion on that outfit is one I'd consider non-gendered. Row 1, images 2 and 3 are examples of masculine/neutral uses of gauze that plays with flow of form but isn't inherently femme. This stage outfit is very western-appearing masculine suiting, until you hit the skirt which is giving me long ballerina tie-on skirt with the additional swan/mermaid pearl strings. Imo, another example of deliberately using traditional masculine styling but switching it up with the combination of material choice and make that is feminine.

row 2, image 3: black space military boots, black suiting, black -silver ombre sequin trailing skirt and white gauzy shawl with black floral design

The over all design is going for a masculine military-feel. (think this outfit for shen langhun) But instead of a thicker military cloak, it's replaced with a woman's gauze shawl and a skirt that trails behind him very much like the back of a woman's formal fish-tail gown when he moves around. If you take into context Wang Herun's outfit is a white-silver sequined dress cut in a way to also give a space-military-queen vibe, imo they both coordinated their outfits to balance out with both femme and masc qualities.

Thoughts? I'm curious what others think about this.

While I wait for the CNY photoshoot for XSY's red and black look, here's him with his stage collaborators with a nice range of skirt lengths, period influences and material choices. The woman in the center is the one with the most military-fighter design out of the bunch. The dudes are all in variations of formal-wear-with-good-kicking-boots (and lots of crotch space).

[bettyfrommars]

A little something inspired by this edit by @somnambulic-thing of what I imagine as a version of a mechanic!Eddie, but he's also biker!Eddie to me, or anything you want.

mechanic!Eddie x Reader

18+Only, secret work crush, gender neutral reader, just some yearning fluff with mention of weed and alcohol, bit of slut shaming, some sage advice from Wayne.

word count: 1.7k

Eddie had been staring at the door to the office and zoning out for a while when you opened it to step into the bay, and his unblinking gaze accidentally lingered at your midsection.

“What’s wrong?” You glanced down at your outfit, thinking maybe your zipper was open or something worse. There were three other mechanics besides Eddie there that day, each of them knee deep in the hustle and bustle of the busy season.  A boombox on one of the tall, red cubbies blasted hard rock while an electric drill buzzed.  

His attention snapped back to the bolt he was crouched down to tighten on the rim of a Ford Bronco.  

“Nothing,” he grunted, cranking the ratchet so that the muscles on his tattooed bicep bulged. He had on his signature summer uniform of black coveralls with the sleeves ripped off.  His hair was tied back in a pony with a navy-blue bandana on his head, making it easier to slip his welding helmet on and off.  “I didn’t know you were working today.”

Now, that was a big fat lie.  Spotting your car in the parking lot when he came in every morning was one of those things that set his day right.  You’d taken Thursday off the week before, and he’d moped around in a bad mood for the entire shift.  

Almost four months you’d been working in the office, and he still hadn’t summoned the nerve to ask you out.  Instead, he drank too much after a show at the Hideout one night and ended up letting some random chick crawl all over him.  The next day, the guys he worked with would make it sound more serious than it actually was.

“Soooo Munson, I heard you got lucky with Deep Throat Dana last night. They say she can suck an orange out of a tailpipe!” 

And then the entire shop broke out into wheezing laughter like a bunch of hyenas, as if something funny was said.

It made him cringe, and he cast a side glance to see if you were within earshot.  “Nothing happened with that girl,” he wanted to say to you.  “We kissed, but I just couldn’t…ya know?”

But also, why did he feel the need to explain himself to you? It was as if he was being faithful to a dream.  You’d never give him the time of day out in the real world.  Sure, you knew just how he liked his coffee, and you asked him questions about DnD and his band as if you were interested.  But, you were just being nice—he could tell.  At first he thought he was special, but quickly realized that you treated everyone the same.  You were, in fact, a thoughtful, likable person.  Surely your only interest in him was as co-workers, nothing more.  

Also, he could hear Wayne’s voice in his head: “Don’t shit where you eat, son.” 

It was his uncle's long-standing advice to never get involved with a coworker, and Eddie just happened to agree.  If he was ever lucky enough to take you on a few dates and then you dumped him or broke his heart, he wasn’t sure he could work at the garage anymore.  On the bright side, he also had a CDL to operate heavy equipment, so maybe that would be his cue to become a long-haul trucker.  

Deep breath Munson, you’re getting way ahead of yourself.

You hesitated in the doorway for a beat with Mrs. Chadwick’s paperwork for the Oldsmobile sedan in your hand, wanting to ask Eddie how his day was going.  But then he sank down onto the creeper and rolled under the vehicle as if to avoid you in a hurry.  

You really didn’t know what to make of him. 

One second, you’d be certain he was flirting, but then later that day, he’d huff out the door without even so much as a wave. He’d tease you about things, like your collection of random motel pens or the music you liked, and then you’d give the energy right back and wait for that gremlin smile to spread across his face. 

The other day, he’d left your favorite candy bar on the desk for you to find.  You knew it was him because he was the only one in Hawkins you’d told.  How the topic of sweets came up, you weren’t sure, but you’d never forget the curious narrowing of his eyes when he asked which one you liked best.

You had this strange feeling that he was secretly studying you.

The other night you were sitting across from your friend Tina, having burgers and beers at The Hideaway, when Eddie just happened to breeze in.

Your heart stuttered, whatever you’d been saying dying on your lips, completely losing your train of thought. The vinyl in the booth squeaked as you craned your neck to watch him. That was the first time you’d ever seen him in street clothes without coveralls on, and it was raining, so his long hair was soaked.  He greeted the woman at the cash register, and you were too far away to hear, but apparently he was there to pay and pick up his takeout order in a big brown sack with greasy handprints on it.  You thought about waving him down to ask if he wanted to join the two of you, but he did his business in a hurry and didn’t seem to want to be noticed.

“What’s going on?” Tina asked, gaze darting from you to the Dio patch on Eddie’s back as he exited the building.  She munched a french fry before wiping ketchup off her lip.  “Did something happen between you and Eddie?”

You snapped a look at her.  “You know him?”

“Well, not intimately,” she ate another fry.  “But I went to school with him, and bought weed from him a few times.”

“He sells weed?” You cocked an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised.

“It’s been like, a while, but maybe he still does.  How do you know him?”

“We work together,” you brought the half-eaten burger up for a bite and paused there.  “I think he hates me.”

“I highly doubt that.” And then she stared pointedly at you when she said, “he’s cute,” with a knowing smirk. 

“Ha,” you adjusted the napkin on your lap. “Well, as you know, I plan to stay single for the rest of my life.”

“Sure, sure.”

When it got closer to 6 that day, you scrambled to get off the phone with a customer, worried Eddie might slip out again and you wouldn’t see him for the entire weekend. After hiding in the supply closet for a full minute to avoid Phil—one of the other mechanics who liked to talk your ear off—you finally made it to the break room, panting as if you’d just run a marathon.

Eddie was there, bent over to snatch a Pepsi out of the vending machine.  Freezing in place, you suddenly forgot how to form words.

Eddie felt like an idiot, like for sure you’d caught on to the fact that he’d been finding shit to do for the past half hour just so he could be there to have some private time with you.  He didn’t like the idea of you closing up the shop by yourself, especially now that it was getting darker sooner. 

And then fucking Phil wouldn’t leave. His wife had relatives visiting, and he was shuffling around like a sad puppy trying to avoid going home.  Eddie had to pretend he needed to take a shit just to get rid of him, and was halfway surprised the dude didn’t follow him into the bathroom.

He usually brought his own lunch, but the snack and soda machines were always tempting.  He knew how to open the damn things up and thought about doing some last minute grocery shopping to make up for his crappy wage.  

You cleared your throat.  “So, what are you up to this weekend?  Any fun plans?”

Eddie pulled his shoulders back and spun around at the sound of your voice, fisting the can in one hand and running the other through his hair.  He’d been growing his bangs out, and they were just long enough to tuck behind his ears.  The length was so fucking annoying at times that he’d often considered chopping them to nubs.    

You were smiling at him, eyes bright and sincere, and it made him feel all fuzzy inside like his brain was made of cotton candy.

“My day was good. You?” That was what came out of his mouth, and then he let out a silent, internal scream that made his ears ring. 

But he recovered quickly. “I mean, I don’t have any plans.  I don’t usually have…I mean, my buddy Jeff and I might go see a movie, but not like major plans.”  He didn’t want to tell you he was taking a trip out to Rick’s on Sunday to beef up his supply for weekly customers.  He sure as hell couldn’t restore the van on the chump change he made at the garage. 

You stared at him intently, softening when you realized he was nervous.  

How could that be?  Did you make him nervous?

You pulled a folded piece of paper out of your back pocket and held it up.  “I found this at the laundromat.  It says your band is playing at The Hideout on Tuesday.  Is that still happening?”

Pinched between your thumb and forefinger was one of the handmade fliers Gareth had helped him make.  

“Well we…yes-–” he cracked open the lid of the soda and it fizzed everywhere, dripping down his arm and onto the linoleum floor. “Shit, I’ll clean that up, don’t worry.”

He didn’t want you to get stuck having to get the mop out to clean again, so he put the leaking can down on the lunch table and went over to grab something to wipe it up.  

He busied himself with sopping up the mess, albeit poorly, while you inched closer.

“I think I might stop by and check you guys out,” you saw that his face was red when he stood, chocolate orbs lit up in anticipation.  “Maybe we could have a beer or something after?”

His cotton candy brain tried to filter his next thought, but it was too late.  “What are you doing tonight?”

“Tonight?” You blinked a few times.  “Is your band playing somewhere tonight too?”

“No, but I—” the tip of his tongue slipped side to side between his lips.  “If you’re not busy tonight maybe we could go somewhere to eat or drink or hang out or something.”

“Or something,” a grin quivered in the corner of your mouth. 

And then the two of you were just standing there, close enough for your breathing to fall into sync. Gathering up a nice helping of nerve, you reached an arm out and ran the back of your knuckles down the front of his shirt.

Eddie was vibrating.

Don’t shit where you eat, son.

No disrespect Uncle, but fuck the job.

“Anything," he said softly, hope blossoming in his chest like those wildly palpitating hearts in cartoons.  “Anything you want.”

[macabr3-barbi3]

I know you’re on a Vox kick rn but if you get back into Al anytime soon I had a bit of an idea!

Maybe reader was hanging out with Al, not realizing he was courting her (and she was technically accepting) and then she went out and basically cheated on him bcuz she had no clue they were low key together.

Anyway he totally flips and PROVES they’re together…?

I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG AHHHHHH

I did go the nsfw route with this one so 👀👀👀 I hope you enjoy!!!

Tags: accidental cheating, semi-public sex, , possessive Alastor, tentacles as a gag sort of lol

MDNI 18+ 3.3k words ❤️🦌

You didn’t think anything of Alastor’s raised eyebrow when you accepted Angel’s offer to join him out at a club, or how his clawed hand grips his cane a little bit tighter when he spots you coming down the stairs in the outfit that the spider had picked out for you. You give him a smile and a wave on your way out the door, and if his eye twitches a little bit, well- Alastor was a weird guy.

Which didn’t negate the fact that he was hot as fuck; not to mention a complete gentleman, and funny, and overall kind when he wasn’t in a murderous rampage and eating people. And sure, he had gotten a little closer to you lately- you enjoyed a cup of coffee together every morning, he always made sure to save you a seat at the dinner table, he would get you little trinkets and bits of jewelry or treats when he was out and about in the city. Whenever you accompanied him to Cannibal Town he insisted on paying the tab, and always made sure to walk you back to your door before retiring for the night; he would invite you to his room for evening tea, and you had fallen asleep with your head on his shoulder only to awaken tucked comfortably into your bed more time than you could count. Last week he had even given you a peck on the cheek instead of just the back of your hand, a sweet blush overtaking his features before he vanished into the shadows, and it took everything in you not to grab him before he disappeared and invite him into your room.

Because Alastor wasn’t interested in those things. That was what you heard from everyone, from Angel, from Husk when you had drunkenly confessed to him at the bar one night. That it was better to just put the idea from your head, the Radio Demon has never shown any inclination towards things like love and romance or sex. You were loving getting closer to him, becoming a companion he enjoyed spending time with, but you had needs that couldn’t be met by the sweet words and kind gestures of a friend.

Hence, your presence with Angel in Consent. He was here to drink and dance; you were here for that as well, but also maybe a quick hookup in one of the club’s sex rooms. It had been far too long since you’d had a decent tumble in the sheets, and the continuous frustration at being so close to Alastor and perpetually unable to touch was driving you mad. You took the first drink that Angel handed you and knocked it back in one go, smiling when the spider whooped like a lunatic and dragged you out onto the floor.

More than an hour of accepting drinks from Angel (he was the one with money between you) and dancing with any and everyone, it was almost, almost what you needed. The air was hot with how many demons were jammed into the space of the dance floor, sweat dripped down your face and the small of your back, and your chest heaved with the force of your breathing when you finally opted to take a break. You squeezed Angel’s arm in a temporary farewell and made your way to the bar. You thought about putting one more drink on his tab but decided against it, opting to ask for water instead.

“Excuse me,” you hear to your right, and you’re met with the sight of one of the demons that Angel worked with; not one of the actors, but maybe a cameraman? Light technician? Either way, he was someone you had seen around Val’s studio before when you came to collect him at the end of the regularly scheduled nights. He was tall and attractive, and his eyes had seen too many of the shoots in Vee tower because they were just screaming ‘fuck me.’ “Think your boyfriend would object to me buying you a drink, pretty thing?”

“Considering he doesn’t exist I don’t think he would mind,” you say, and when he smiles all sharp teeth at you the low buzz of arousal isn’t quite the same as it usually is with another razor-tipped grin.

He wasn’t Alastor, but you would make do.

-.-.-

It’s barely ten minutes later that you’re walking back to the hotel alone with a stain on your nice, borrowed skirt- you figured with Angel’s line of work he would know how to get it out. You had texted him that you were going home already, too miffed about the shitshow in the sex room to ask him to accompany you, pissed enough that you think you can handle any asshole that might try to mess you with on the way. Val’s lackey had hardly managed some kissing and fingering before thrusting himself into you and giving a few quick pumps before he groaned and stilled against you. Pulling out, he trailed across your hiked up skirt and asked if you had ‘gotten there,’ and you laughed in his face before pulling your shirt back up and leaving.

“Fucking men,” you were muttering under your breath, not noticing the shadows that slipped along the sidewalk behind you as you walked with the strange sensation of the man’s release on your thighs. “Either not interested in sex at all or so fucking eager for it they bust before I can even fucking-”

Something slips around your head and covers your mouth, effectively cutting you off. Your hands come up to grab at it, tear it away, and another circles your waist, dragging you back into the dark shadows of a nearby alley. You bare your claws, eyes flashing red and preparing yourself for a fight when you realize the demon before you is Alastor.

A supremely angry Alastor, by the looks of it. His smile is tense and strained, eyebrows drawn down low in a glare as he looks down at you, nearly a full head shorter than him but refusing to cower under his rage- not realizing that you should probably be scared. “Fuck, you scared me,” you start, pulling the slack shadow tentacle away from your mouth, only for it to tighten once again and force you back into silence.

“This manner of betrayal,” he says carefully, like the words are being plucked from him with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel, “is unacceptable.” His voice goes full static, the intensity of it almost hurting your ears. “Of all the scum that inhabits Hell I’d never have expected this from you, cherie. Tell me,” he demands, trailing a clawed finger down your cheek and removing the shadow over your mouth. “What could have possibly possessed you to act in such a manner?”

“Alastor, what-” The heat of him so close to you, not quite touching but close enough that the slightest movement would slot your bodies against one another, has your brain fuzzy. “Betrayal? What are you talking about?”

“I can fucking smell him on you,” he snarls, and now he does step close enough to touch, caging you between his body and the wall behind you. “His cologne on your clothing, his release on your skin. You claim to not know what I refer to when I could just as soon touch the evidence beneath your skirt before you could deny it?”

A hand comes down to the bottom of your skirt, toying with the hem, and you nearly choke on your breath. The dying arousal you had felt earlier from the demon in the sex room returns at full force, even as confused as you were with the situation, with what Alastor was saying. “Why- fuck, why does that matter? Alastor!”

You cry out in surprise when his fingers reach under your clothing, the brush of his thumb against your inner thigh before he pulls back, the thin substance of your partner’s cum coating his finger. Your face flames with heat when he brings the digit to his mouth and fucking sucks it clean. Somehow, this seems to calm him, his breath steadier and his eyes losing some of the murderous glint to them. “That you would lower yourself in this way,” he murmurs, his smile twisting into something sarcastic and hurt, “when you’ve had an attentive, willing beau this entire time that you’ve not deigned to touch, or asked to touch you in return?”

“B-beau?” His hand has returned to the space below the hem of your skirt, tracing patterns into the soft skin there, only distracting you a little. “What-”

“Perhaps a lesson, hmm? To remind you of who, exactly, you belong to. Of course darling, we’ll first have to rid you of the evidence of your transgressions…” And in a move that shocks you almost as much as it makes your stomach clench and swoop, the Radio Demon drops to his knees on the damp, dirty asphalt of the alley.

Your breath punches out of you when he looks up at you, head level with your lower body, and asks, “or do you have any objections to that?” With his hands fisted in the fabric of your skirt.

“No! No objections, fuck, please” you manage, and then your pussy is met with the cool air of the night as he shoves your skirt up and your panties simply vanish. It’s hardly a moment of anticipation before his tongue is pressed against you, warm and slick and circling incessantly at your swollen clit and then dipping down, licking at you with determination that makes you cry out, the sound echoing in the alley. “Alast-” 

A tendril of shadow pushes past your lips, and Alastor hums against your pelvis below you. “Quiet now, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your sensitive bundle of nerves with every word. “Already one person too many has seen you in the throes of passion tonight- I’ll be damned if there is another.” He licks your drenched folds again, the strong line of his nose keeping pressure on your clit as he angles his head and pushes in, and your hands fly off the wall to clutch desperately at his hair. The sounds coming from where he’s connected to you are loud and lewd, wet suckling noises as he bends and twists his agile muscle inside of you.

The tentacle thing in your mouth isn’t large enough to choke you, and tiny snippets of sound still escape you from Alastor’s ministrations. Your body feels like a livewire, crackling with energy that stems from where he feasts on you and threatens to shatter outwards, destroying everything in its wake. He pulls back and you whine at the loss, the shadow petting your tongue almost soothingly when Alastor looks up at you, eyes wild. “Almost finished, dear,” he murmurs. “I’ll ensure that every trace of that cretin is gone- he tastes vile, not even this much of him deserves to be anywhere near you.” He releases your skirt at last, his fingers pressing against the entrance of your cunt with a smile and his tongue swiping the evidence of what he was cleaning you of. “A cheap substitution for me, to be sure; allow me to provide a more refined alternative.” His finger hooks inside of you, mindful of the clawed tip, and drags slowly, brushing against that soft spot inside that makes you see the white of static behind your eyelids, makes you clench down hard on the digit before it slides out and Alastor stands to his full height again, satisfied that he has successfully removed the cum of the stranger, hands at his waistband and pulling his belt open with a clink of metal.

He hikes your legs up around his waist, and you feel the hot length of him pressed against your sensitive flesh. "Will you allow me to take you, darling? Feel the sweet clench of you around me at last, and erase every remnant of the unworthy sinner before me?"

“Fuck, yes, Alastor,” you pant when the tentacle slips from your mouth, and fucking finally his lips are on yours, and its everything you had been fantisizing about for months. His tongue glides against yours, licking into the wet cavern of your mouth, and you moan at the taste of yourself on him. Your voice is lost between his teeth when he presses into you, his cock like velvet coated steel against your inner walls, still pulsing and twitching from being right on the edge of your own orgasm. He groans into your mouth when he reaches the hilt, his hands tightening their grip on your hips and bucking his own forward to sheath himself further inside of you.

“Divine,” he murmurs against your mouth, sharp teeth catching on your lips and causing blood to pool on your tongue before he can suck it away. “Perfect, darling- well worth the wait, even considering the situation we find ourselves in.” Its frankly unfair how well spoken he still is, even as he steadily pounds into your willing body without so much as a catch in his breath. “I’ll never again be satisfied unless I am on the verge of spilling into the tight heat of your body. How does that sound, d-dearest?”

Finally his voice cracks, his body stuttering against yours as he fights to maintain his control. “Please,” you whisper, “please, I’ll do anything- I need it.” He laughs against your neck and drags his tongue over your sweaty skin, the hard length of him inside of you more perfect than it has any right to be. He fucks into you with a reckless abandon that was surely going to get you caught, moans and whimpers tearing themselves from your mouth when he occasionally releases your lips to nip and suck at your skin. “I’ve wanted- for so long, please…”

“You could’ve had me,” he growls, “at any time. And instead you’ve come to this den of delinquency and allowed another to take you instead. But we’re fixing it now, darling-” His hips slam hard into you, the sound of his balls slapping your skin with every thrust the only thing you can hear under his moans, under yours, the cries that echo within the space between you.

A hand comes up to cup the back of your head, pulling you closer not for a kiss but to rest his forehead against yours. “Tell me,” he demands, and it feels like a plea with how wide and manic his eyes are, how desperately he bucks and grinds into you. “Tell me you’re mine. Promise you’ll never go to another again- that I am enough.”

“Yes,” you agree breathlessly, “yes, Alastor, please-”

“Say it,” he snarls, his sharp teeth snapping inches from your face, his smile possessed as he pounds into your cunt with a feverous need. “I need you to say it, darling, my doe, please-”

“Yours- oh fuck, please, always yours, Alastor- no one else, never again-” He cuts you off with his tongue licking into your mouth, like he means to steal your breath, to swallow you whole from the inside. He releases your head to rub skillfully at the sensitive bundle of nerves above where you’re connected, and your world goes white as you cum, a scream lost into his mouth as you shake in his embrace, internal walls clamping down with brutal force, the hard length of him inside of you more perfect than it has any right to be.He loses his rhythm against you, his pelvis stuttering with a couple more sharp thrusts before he stills, spending himself inside you with long, hot pulses that make you shiver in the aftermath of your own orgasm.

You stand there trembling against one another for a moment before Alastor assists you in standing on your own feet again, righting your skirt and getting rid of the stain on it with a snap of his fingers. He keeps his hands on you after he’s tucked himself away, over the curve of your waist, your arms, fiddling with your hands in the space between your bodies. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft and hurt.

“I must know, darling- what was I lacking?”

Your eyebrows scrunch. “What do you mean?”

“In my courting,” he clarifies, and cups your cheek in one hand. “I so wish you had come to me first if you had needs to be met- surely you must have a reason for why you didn’t do so?”

“Courting? What are you talking about?” 

He freezes, the static fading from the air around you in mere moments and Alastor searching your eyes. “I mean myself, of course,” he says, and while his voice is clear there’s a hint of surprise to it. “We’ve been courting for the better portion of a year.”

“We’ve what?” You think of the closeness you had shared for a while, the gifts and friendly touches and such that you had been interpreting as mere platonic affections. “Oh Satan,” you breath, as you realize you’ve been misunderstanding this whole time- he wanted you to touch him. He wanted to touch you- he was upset thinking that you had gone elsewhere when he would have been more than happy to-

Alastor’s hand leaves your skin and he takes a step back. “You… you accepted, dear,” he says imploringly. “My- my gestures, my affections. I thought-'' His eyes widen and his smile goes tense, his entire body following suit. “It would seem I owe you an apology, darling. I see that the situation at hand has come about of my own incorrect assumptions.” His shadows retreat, the shape of his form already less than corporeal when you let your hand dart out to wrap around his arm as he tries to slink away.

“No! Wait, please, I didn’t know-” He resolidifies before you, his expression still guarded as he looks down at you. “I promise- if I had known I would have never come out with Angel tonight. I thought- everyone told me you weren’t interested in sex or relationships, so even though I had those feelings I wasn’t going to make it your problem.”

“Hence your presence here tonight.” He sighs, the tension melting from his body as he comes closer again, reaches out for you and holds your face in his hand. “I was trying to be courteous in my courting of you; taking it slow so as not to startle you away. You truly didn’t realize with the time I spent with you, the small gifts and gestures?”

“I didn’t want to assume anything and make you make a run for it.”

Alastor shakes his head, a small, half annoyed half incredulous huff accompanying the movement. “It seems a bit of communication might have saved us both the wasted time. I admit I feel like a fool, for not simply being upfront regarding my intentions.”

You also felt like an idiot- instead of talking to him you had let the others scare you out of months of what could've been nights full of blissful pleasure rather than frustrated tossing and agonizing over your own feelings. Just before you could open your mouth to tell him how sorry you were for the mess you felt you caused, he was already speaking, his voice soft and yet rough around its edges. 

"Well, then let's not cry over spilled milk. Too many moments were wasted already, we won't waste one another with useless apologies, since I believe both of us have made our standpoints quite clear a few minutes ago, don't you agree, darling?"

As if to help you recount, he presses his forehead on yours, a slender arm wrapping around your waist, and you can't help but smile back at his grinning face. He doesn’t release you as he allows you both to drop into shadows, and you can’t wait to see what life will be like properly at Alastor’s side.

[lqveharrington]

Shut Up | V.

summary: You aren’t officially apart of the Vees, but dating Vox merely intensifies what the rest of the sinners, and his business partners, believe.

pairing: Vox x overlord!reader

includes: smut: exhibitionism, masochism, degradation, fluff, Valentino being weird, talks about death, talks about porn (that’s all, let me know if I missed any!)

a/n: this is my first time writing a one-shot like this which was really interesting to write 🤷‍♀️ we’ll see how this goes

You were never openly advertised to be a part of the Vees. You just happened to be there for almost all of their businesses and deals. Sure, you did live in the same building as them and work alongside them, but there was never an official declaration of you joining the Vees. There were two reasons you were protected against all the sinners who wondered why you were always in the public eye with them.

One, you were a quiet overlord. And two, you were dating the company’s forefront boss: Vox, the technological demon.

Though you kept all your soul deals hushed from the public, all the sinners knew what you were capable of, staying clear of your path. It just so happened that Vox was able to snag you for himself, being the only one to truly enjoy you as yourself, despite Velvette and Valentino also witnessing each interaction.

“What’s on your schedule today?” Vox sipped on his black coffee, adjusting you in his lap.

You tap away on your phone as you take a small drink from his cup. “Uh, I think I have a meeting with Diane about the money she owes me. Then Velvette needs to steal me to model some clothes for her new line.”

He hummed, eyes flickering across the different monitors in his room. “Is that all?”

Nodding, you shut your phone off and smiled prettily up at him, pearly whites on display. “Why? Want me all to yourself?” You shift in his lap, straddling him instead.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to such things.” He trailed a claw up your arm. “Sadly, I have meetings upon meetings today.”

“Boo.” You kiss the corner of his screen, feeling soft static on your lips. He squeezes your waist as you move off of him, “Text me if you need to reach me.”

“I always do.” He pressed a kiss to your hand. “Love you.”

“Love you more.” You snap your fingers, appearing in front of your favorite sinner’s house. “Diane, here I come.” You mutter as the dirt and blood from the ground accumulate on your heels.

The meeting with Diane was short and sweet, only taking twenty minutes to collect your money from her. In fact, you had more time to visit the rest of your souls before heading to the Vee tower. To be fair, most sinners you dealt with either died from exterminations or died from your own hands, not being able to pay their debt. It was nice to have a soul who was willing to commit to your every beck and call.

“Babes, focus.” Velvette snapped her fingers in front of you, changing your outfit. “What do you think about this one?”

Your hands come down to your waist, glancing in the mirror. “It’s alright. The puffy sleeves are a no-go though.” You watch as she jots down your notes, muttering to herself about stupid sleeves before snapping another pair of clothes on you. “How many outfits did you create for this new line?”

“About thirty or so, I can’t really keep track.” Velvette circled to your front, tilting her head at the color. “This color doesn’t necessarily represent me, no?”

You shake your head, “It’s more… more angelic than Velvette.”

“Right, thank you.” She flicks her wrist, changing the color to match her brand. “You know, Voxy wouldn’t stop groaning about you being busy all day.” You raise a brow at her words, letting her switch your outfit again. “He was all pissy when Val said he’d try to recruit you to be in one of his films again. Val almost lost a wing during that meeting, it was hilarious.”

“I’d rather work for you than Val.” You grimace at the thought. Since landing in Hell, the only person you had gotten intimate with was Vox. You would rather die with Carmine weapons than star in one of his adult films. “Do you know when Vox’s meetings are done?”

“Do I look like his fucking assistant?” She flicked her hair back as she looked at you with an unimpressed expression. “He’s your boy toy.”

“Fuck off.” You flip her off and pull your phone out, sending a quick message to Vox, to which he responds with a Facetime call.

“What’s wrong?” His eye twitched as if he were to murder a low-life sinner. “Who hurt you?”

“No one?” You furrow your brows but roll your eyes when Velvette snickers from behind you. “I was just going to ask when your last meeting is.”

“Just ended.” He let out a breath, squinting his eyes when you flip the camera to show the shorter overlord. “Velvette, don’t overwork her.”

“She’s standing here pretty, asshole.” She scoffed at him. “You’re free to visit while I finish up.”

“Let’s just do a movie night in our penthouse.” You toss up, earning groans from both overlords. “Fine, screw you too.”

“I love you, but I can’t do another movie night where we watch Val’s porn films starring him.” Velvette rubbed her forehead at the thought. The thought alone sends shivers down your spine. “Anyone but Val can pick the movie.”

“I’ll pick it since you all want to be babies about it.” You sigh as she snaps your original clothes back on. “Someone tell Valentino.”

“Already sent a message.” Vox locked eyes with you through the screen. “I’ll see you both in a bit.”

“Bye, handsome.” You sent kisses toward him. You hummed to yourself as you hopped off the platform Velvette placed you on.

“How? Why?” Velvette shook her head at you. “I don’t get it, not at all. You two are so fucking disgusting.”

That wasn’t the first time she said that either. Or Valentino. They eventually just learned to live with you two after they once walked in on you and Vox in his monitor room… Not a fun surprise. Especially when Valentino wanted to record. Velvette learned to knock for once but still found all your lovey-dovey couple shit disgusting. However, it did boost her business when you both went out with matching outfits made by her.

“Mm, Vox—!” You giggle against his lips as your hands find his shoulders to balance you. “They’ll be here any minute.”

“They both have enough common sense to knock.” He kicked your legs apart. “I haven’t seen you all day. I missed you.”

You shift under him, holding in soft moans from his actions. “Vox…”

“Hm?” He shot a small shock through his finger, causing you to let out a moan. “You once hated those.”

“Shut up.” You grabbed his sweater vest and pulled him in. That was about how far you got until Valentino barged inside with Velvette trailing behind. “Oh, fuck me…”

“Maybe later.” Vox teased, pulling you up from the couch. He flattened out your bunched-up skirt and his vest, giving an agitated smile toward his business partners. “I thought you two learned to knock?”

“Why? Busy fucking?” Valentino maliciously grinned at you, making you shift uncomfortably. “I’m sure you two would—“

“Alright, what movie are we watching bitches?” Velvette plopped herself down on an armchair, letting her legs rest on the armpiece.

Vox muttered out words of murder toward Valentino, pulling you down to sit on his lap to hide his previous hard-on. You lock a hand with him, feeling him rub your palm as the movie starts. And the movie seemed to be more of a success than the last one as Valentino and Velvette’s eyes were immediately glued to the screen. But Vox kept all his attention on you, letting his hands wander across your body.

“What are you doing?” You murmur, grabbing his wrist as it starts trailing up your thigh. “Vox…”

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, “Yeah?”

“We can’t…”

“They’re not even paying attention to us, gorgeous.” His screen dimmed and red streaks appeared.

You roll your eyes but steal the blanket from behind you, draping it over the both of you. “Happy?”

“Very.” His voice was much lower, as he immediately attached himself to your shoulder.

It wasn’t until halfway through the movie that one of them noticed. Sadly, it was Velvette who noticed, meaning there was a much bigger scene being created than the one playing on the television.

“Are you guys seriously fucking right now?” She made a face of disgust, watching you being unable to respond to her.

“Shut up, don’t talk to us.” Vox let out a quiet grunt as you buried your head into his collarbone.

“Vox.” You mumble as a warning as the coil inside you tightens.

He held you closer as you gasped, “Fuck, I got you.”

“I’m out! I’m leaving, I’ll see you all tomorrow when you’re both decent.” Velvette left, dragging Valentino with her when he brought his phone out to record.

“Vox!” He flipped you to lay on the couch the second the elevator door shut, overstimulating your abused parts.

“Such a fucking slut for cock.” He pinched your waist as his hips stuttered. “Fuck, come with me.” You let out a guttural moan as your coil snapped for the third time, grabbing onto him as he finished, feeling him rest his head on your chest. “That was so fucking hot.”

Your chest heaved as you rubbed his back, “That’s because you wanted to get caught, handsome.”

“It worked, didn’t it? I got both of the things I wanted.” He leaned up and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Can I move yet?”

You shake your head, shutting your eyes when he shifts a bit. “Vox.” You whine, tightening your hold on him. “Don’t move.”

“You’re fine, I have you.” He murmured as he pressed small kisses to your face. “We can stay here.” You hum in contentment. “Thank you for indulging in my thoughts.”

You chuckle at his words, “I wanted it too, Vox. But, I think we officially traumatized Velvette.”

“She can go cry about it.” He rubbed your hip before giving you a quick kiss on your sore lips. “I love you, gorgeous.”

“Mm, I love you too, Vox.” You whisper back, letting him tighten his hold on you as the movie ends, sighing in exhaustion.

You might not be publicly introduced to be associated with the Vees, but you were definitely associated with Vox whenever you were in the confines of the Vee Tower.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[kryannoy]

when you get upset with them

genre: fluff

characters: mikey, draken, chifuyu, kazutora, mitsuya

He was being a little too dependent on you and clingy when you didn't have the mood. He thought acting like that would work but you ended up pushing him off and slammed the door to your room.

He reflects on what he did and admits he was selfish. He buys you snacks you like and even shares his. Your door is locked so he would squeeze those snacks through the slit under your door. He even slides a cute letter in. The next morning, you see him sleeping on the floor in front of your door.

You got upset because he said something harsh to you. It just slipped out from his mouth and he didn't realize it was an insult to you until he notices your quiet behaviour.

He knows your interests and favourite things so he buys whatever merch you haven't had yet. Be it a k-pop album or posters, your favourite anime merchandise or whatever, that will cheer you up. He wouldn't even wrap it or put it in a gift bag, he straight up gave it to you like it's an everyday dorayaki and added his apology at the end.

He pulled a prank on you in-game where he made a new account and acted like a stalker. He chatted with you and typed your real name in the chat box. You questioned the "new player" about how he knows your real name while being creeped out. It got out of hand and when he revealed the truth, he now knows the prank was a mistake.

He secretly buys you that in-game purchase you want so the next time you login, there will be a surprise waiting for you in the inbox. He remembers you said that the new limited skin looks pretty and you really want it but you just didn't want to spend it. He didn't hesitate to purchase it, whatever to make you happy again.

You both had a miscommunication where he texted you to take you out next weekend but he typed out the wrong date. So, you're all dolled up for nothing and to make matters worse, you're being stood up by him. He made you seem like a fool.

He felt so horrible when he heard this. He bought almost everything you like and organized them on your bed. Plushies, snacks, new clothes, games, decorations for your room, collectibles, etc. Your bed was so full you almost don't have the heart to put them away because somehow it looks pretty. Of course, you took a picture and posted it online.

It's hard to be upset with this man because he knows better than to make you mad. But when you did, it was because he did it without realizing, or he thought you wouldn't get mad at him for patting another girl's head for doing a good job because you knew he loves you only.

He, rather than make an outfit, he buys you that clothing you really want. He thought of sewing you one but he thinks that's a cheaper way for you to forgive him. So instead, he bought it so you get the actual and official thing. However, you like it if he was the one who made it. It feels more special since you didn't care about brands that much. He even patted your head and promised he won't get too close with another girl.

[eskumii]

yandere!incel!tomura shigaraki + foreigner!darling who can't speak japanese

TITLE: " RENT-A-GF " — navi.

NOTES: nsfw (18+ only) below the cut (non-con!! somnophilia!!) reminder: this is merely fantasy, i don't condone. will prob proofread someday lol. enjoy!

PAIRING: yandere!incel!shigaraki tomura x foreinger!reader

GENRE/AU: shigaraki is rlly misogynistic and delusional, age gap (you're older), reader is a substitute english teacher who got kidnapped by bwad gwuys and is now... yeah

CHARACTERS: shigaraki tomura (21), reader (24)

let's be for real: shigaraki was born to be an incel.

and incel!shigaraki is shamelessly self-aware of this, indeed. when he's not out terrorizing innocent citizens with his villainous coups, he takes to the internet to fulfill his insatiable need for an adrenaline rush. gorey video games and brutal death metal makes him light up in glee, but sometimes it's just not enough.

so, instead, he's a frequent on the dark web, diligently scouring sites that specialize in obscure female porn collectives that cater to his twisted kinks. incel!shigaraki glowers at the pictures of stupid, slutty women who prance around in sexy lingerie, but still gets a hard-on because he wishes he had a woman who would do that for him and him only.

and what shigaraki wants, he gets. on another sweaty night in his dark bedroom, he's boredly clicking through the hundreds of entries of women who are being sold for, what he thinks, too high of a price. not that money would ever be a problem for him; if he felt compelled to, he could just kidnap the girl he wanted all over again. so, no, it's not the price—it's what he thinks they're worth based on his attraction to them.

and, so far, all of them are worthless.

you see, the conundrum is that incel!shigaraki has a thing for foreign girls. don't ask why, he doesn't know. maybe he finds it cute that they're so clueless about his culture and language, and he's the one who'll control the narrative that rules their ignorance. maybe it's so cute how they wear their perpetual confusion on their face at all times, like a bratty kid who can't navigate the world without mommy or daddy by their side.

of course, though, women could hardly do anything on their own anyway. every time he came across one they'd wail and cry as he grabbed them by the hair and threatened to kill them if they didn't shut the hell up. they'd beg for their lives or scream for someone to save them, but it would only piss him off more at how useless and brainless they tended to be. he just couldn't help but decay them—they were so noisy and whiny, it wasn't his fault.

obviously, shigaraki has neither patience nor experience with women. in fact, he can probably count with two fingers how many times he's had a non-violent interaction with a woman in his entire lifetime. the mere thought of this drives his insecurities to the brink of rage, but it's not his fault women are so unbelievably tasteless in their choice of men. it's their fault he has to go to such lengths to find a decent woman worthy of his presence.

but imagine his delight when he happens upon a listing of you, an immediately attractive foreign woman who used to be an english substitute teacher of all things. he clicks through your pictures with a renewed vigor, his interest piqued as he studies your unique features. eagerly, he scours through your posted information and it turns out that you happen to be exactly the kind of woman he's looking for.

it's a done deal. the transaction takes less than a few minutes and incel!shigaraki couldn't be more pleased with how smoothly it went. he'll have to leave a good review later on, when and if the woman he's just bought has satisfied him.

it takes just one night before shigaraki finds you literally dropped off at his doorstep like an amazon prime package. you’ve clearly been pampered with the way you’re clad in a skimpy maid outfit; your nails, hair, and makeup are all dolled to perfection. you look exactly like you did in the pictures.

and clearly you're wise beyond your years. you don't speak much because of the obvious language barrier, but you do seem to understand a bit of elementary japanese. shigaraki is delighted by your small mutterings of broken japanese—it’s unbelievably cute. sometimes he'll force you to speak in japanese just because he loves watching you struggle with your limited vocabulary.

incel!shigaraki gets attached to you. you're very attractive in his eyes, and he's completely ecstatic that you're all his. a woman he can do whatever he wants with, and no one would dare question him. the immense power trip sends him over the edge.

that being said, the first couple of weeks are still rather... awkward. you're not happy about being in the situation you're in, but you're smart enough to keep that to yourself. you don't fuss when shigaraki orders you to fetch him liquor or tidy up his filthy room, nor do you complain when he commands you to cuddle with him or keep him company while he plays video games.

"[name], c'mere," he'd bark at you, eyes still glued to the tv screen.

"be a good girl and keep my lap warm, hm?"

he'll force you to wear cute lingerie sets like he's seen the women on porn sites do. somehow you look so much better though, and it feels as though you're teasing him with the way you bend over so much while cleaning. the outline of your pussy through the small fabric that stretches over it has him horny in a matter of seconds. you're such a tease, aren't you ashamed? you just can't seem to stay in line.

however, despite all your obvious sexual innuendos towards him, shigaraki gets no relief. he's resorted to jacking off whenever you go to sleep but no matter how hard or how much he cums, there's an itch that can't be scratched with masturbation alone. and the way you're so shy around him is adorable, sure, but your little playing-hard-to-get act wasn't cutting it anymore.

the remedy? incel!shigaraki starts slipping sleeping pills into your food and drinks.

and it doesn't take long for shigaraki to develop a routine of visiting you while you're sleeping. partly to check up on you and assure himself of your presence, but mostly to creep around the edges of the bed and feel you up. you sleep so soundly that you don't even twitch when he fondles your soft breasts or runs his spindly fingers over your curves.

he almost doesn't want to disturb you; you look so peaceful, totally different than the frightened little faces you muster when you're awake. but the bothersome tightness stretching his boxers taut against its stitches makes it hard to resist his urges. anyway, you're simply doing the only thing a woman is good for: using your body to please him.

his breath is hot and heavy, laced with lust and selfish perversion as he defiles you to get himself off. some nights he just sits and admires your beauty, caressing your face with clumsy, inexperienced fingertips. some nights your shirt is pulled up so he can marvel at how nicely your breasts sit in whatever color bra he forced you to wear.

other nights his cock is nestled between them, thrusting like his life depends on it, chasing that euphoric high he gets when he finally spills his seed across your hardening nipples. and other nights shigaraki is even more daring—cute pajama pants and panties below your knees, face buried between your thighs as he explores every inch of your sweet cunt. he knows it's wrong, but so what? he's a villian, that's what makes it feel so right.

when you make faces in your sleep, he's filled with so much genuine affection—it's almost as if you're telling him he's doing a good job. you love it, don't you? he so desperately wants to hear you cry his name in that precious accent of yours and run your hands through his hair as you lavish your praise upon him for making you cream so many times.

he can't keep his eyes off you. so soft and compliant. you're so pretty while he's stuffing his cock into you and relentlessly flicking your little clit, not stopping even when he feels you clench around him like a vice as you orgasm over and over. not stopping even though you're drooling all over the linen sheets and he's came twice already.

"that's right... y-you gonna cum again? you gonna—ngh—cum all over my cock, you dumb whore?"

shigaraki watches with glassy, intrigued eyes as you squirm ever so slightly, face warped into one of undeniable pleasure as he ravages your gushing pussy. you're such a good girl for him, letting him use you as he wishes.

you're the woman he's chosen to give his virginity to. he's so happy and content that when he cums inside of you for the third time, he doesn't pull out. instead, shigaraki gently maneuvers your body so he can spoon you from behind, whispering tender "i love you's" as if he knows what that means. absently grinding his hips because your warmth is so comforting around his sticky, softening dick.

as much as shigaraki wants to stay and pound you into the mattress all night, the sleeping medication doesn't last forever. not to mention the mess you've made; the sheets are completely ruined and your clothes are strewn about on the floor, long forgotten. it's hot in your room and it stinks of his cum and sweat, but it doesn't really matter. the only thing on his mind is you and how he'll ruin you again tomorrow night.

for now, though, he rewards you for being so good by cleaning you up, smirking whenever you unconsciously nuzzle up to his touch. when your clothes are back on, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead and admires your flushed face from the shadows of your bedside. when the sun begins to rise and you stir in your ignorance, he'll sneak out and act as if nothing ever happened.

incel!shigaraki who doesn't deny that you're just another stupid slutty woman, but you're the only woman he'll ever want to cum inside of. when he returns to his room, he remembers to pull up your archived listing on his computer and dazedly taps away at his keyboard.

"10/10 recommend"

[jaehaeryshater]

“Near the end, [King Jaehaerys] grew certain [Alicent] was his daughter Saera, returned to him from beyond the narrow sea.”

artist: @riotarttherite

I had the great pleasure of commissioning, in my opinion, one of ASOIAF fandom’s greatest artists on this gorgeous piece. I had never commissioned any artwork before and didn’t know what to expect, and this far exceeded my expectations. The attention to detail is beautiful and the overall piece conveys exactly what I was envisioning in my head, so I wanted to start off with a big thank you.

The idea for this art piece was originally a “what if” or AU where Saera either didn’t get caught at the brothel or was brought back from the Silent Sisters as was allegedly Jaehaerys’s plan (or if she had bonded with Balerion and gotten to stay! Would have loved that for her) so she stays in King’s Landing and becomes his caretaker in his old age instead of Alicent Hightower. As his daughter, she would have significantly more influence in being able to “speak for him” instead of a caretaker for another House, so although I do not take Saera as someone particularly obsessed with power, I do find it very interesting to imagine her deciding to cause chaos as the Old King’s mouthpiece. The streets of King’s Landing are burning as we speak! Even before Jaehaerys seemed to succumb to dementia, Saera did appear to have a strange influence over him, so once Alysanne passed away, it only makes sense that Saera would become the person in his ear. Not all that great for the smallfolk or even Lords of the realm, but great for drama and storylines. And Saera, of course! I’m sure she would have paraded everywhere, weighed down by jewelry and the finest wines. Perhaps she would have had a full menagerie, as she appeared to love animals. Definitely an elephant there somewhere.

As this piece was being worked on, however, I did think of a second meaning to the art that I also think is really neat. You could also view this as what Jaehaerys is seeing as Alicent is caring for him. He did believe her to be Saera in the end, as his mind was being lost. His Saera had come back to him, and although I do not like Jaehaerys and think he probably deserved worse, he most likely died happy at that thought, believing Saera was reading to him. So if you prefer to interpret this as viewing things through Jaehaerys’s mind, I welcome you because I love it at least equally to the first idea.

Lastly, the detailings are beautiful so I wanted to touch on them and give them the attention they deserve for the moment. I asked Riot to have a caring but sinister vibe, that she is caring for him for a plethora of reasons but certainly that includes self-serving reasons. I believe this was captured really well! I wanted it to be illustrated that Jaehaerys had lost his wits a while beforehand, so he has a vacant look, and Saera has the keys, showing that she is the real power behind the Crown. She has several expensive jewelry pieces (she has many from her lovers, but she doesn’t bother with them, leaving them to collect dust, only thinking gifts from the King are worthy to wear), but my favorite was one I specifically requested. Her jeweled bodice, which contains replicas of the King’s jewels that are present on his crown. Dare I say, she had her mother’s crown repurposed for herself? The intention is clear, Saera is effectively the Queen now, not in name, but Queen nonetheless. As for the general fashion, I told Riot that my favorite era of fashion was the Tudor era, more broadly 1300s- 1550s. As you can see, this was more than delivered and extremely beautifully inspired by historical fashion. GRRM doesn’t always describe his character’s outfits, and the GOT and HOTD outfits were often lackluster. This was exactly the type of beauty I was looking for. The dragon embroidery on Saera’s sleeves? Mwah!

Anyway, thank you so much for geeking out with me! The Saera/Jaehaerys dynamic is one of the most interesting dynamics to me. There’s simultaneously so little and so much there. It’s complex and layered, I can’t stop thinking about it. If you have been on my tiktok, you may have heard about my extensive theory regarding that dynamic, iykyk. If you ever want to talk about them, absolutely feel free to inbox me. More commission ideas coming this year definitely, at least a couple more of this dynamic, but I don’t know how a piece could be any more perfect <3

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Riddle Rosehearts - Platinum Jacket Vignette

"Happy 100th Anniversary"

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Riddle: Look at this massive collection of masterpieces… This museum truly is spectacular.

Riddle: Now then, I should be coming up on the exhibit displaying the Queen of Hearts soon… Aha!

Riddle: It's a painting depicting the scene where the Queen appears before her card soldiers… She looks so majestic.

???: Both her expression and the way her lithe fingers grasps her dress is utterly refined. Moreover, that red and black dress looks spectacular on her!

Rook: This work of art expresses just how charming the dignified Queen of Hearts was.

Riddle: Charming… you say? I shouldn't expect any less of an observation coming from you, Rook-senpai. I have to admit that I'd never thought of it that way.

Riddle: It's said that she would always make sure to wear this dress and her golden crown even during the most important of trials.

Rook: It must have been her regal formal attire, then. Heh, now I can't help but be curious what she wore in her own time.

Rook: I'm also curious as to what casual wear you partake in, as well, Roi des Roses.

Riddle: Eh, me? I wouldn't think it's anything that would catch the interest of the Pomefiore Vice Housewarden...

Riddle: As a rule, I don't tend to wear anything more lax than smart casual. My parents always said that I should never forego a tie, after all.

Rook: An elegant assortment that suits you well!

Riddle: Thank you. I am quite fond of the style, so it pleases me to hear you say that.

Riddle: However, there are times that my usual attire doesn't fit the situation…

Rook: Oh, is that so?

Riddle: Yes. Once, I and three others traveled to Foothill Town in order to purchase new equipment for my club activities from a store there.

Riddle: When I arrived at the appointed meeting place, everyone looked perplexed, asking if I planned on truly wearing what I had on to town.

Riddle: Since this was an errand for our club, and we would be carrying heavy objects, I had opted to wear my PE uniform.

Rook: Oh là là! True, it may be easier to move around in that uniform… But it may have been a tad impractical to wear out to town.

Riddle: Yes… I should have worn my normal clothes. Unfortunately, I didn't own a single casual outfit to wear while doing manual labor.

Riddle: So, I decided to ask Ace and Cater for help, since they're much more cognizant of fashion trends.

Riddle: Perhaps they could help me figure out what sort of attire I could wear when going shopping with my clubmates.

Rook: Those two do seem to have an eye for fashion, I agree. How did they react?

Riddle: They agreed that my normal attire was much too formal, and would look out-of-place while alongside my clubmates.

Riddle: However, it's uncertain when I may be required to join others for an errand again.

Riddle: It would be bad form to cause my compatriots to feel uncomfortable. So, I came to the conclusion that something must be done to rectify this situation.

Riddle: When I voiced that to those two, they gave me a few pointers that would allow for my current wardrobe to look slightly more casual.

Riddle: For example, I could wear my usual shirts with no tie, and with the top button open.

Rook: That makes sense, it would loosen up the stiff formal wear and make it seem more casual.

Riddle: Yes, I suppose… Although, it seems I just cannot get comfortable without my collar closed all the way, even if it to try for a more casual look.

Rook: Hm, so you're saying that change wasn't to your taste, then?

Riddle: Exactly that. I mentioned that to Ace and Cater, and after much discussion…

Riddle: Instead of changing how I wore my clothes, we decided to adjust the material and sizes of the clothes to help dress down more casually.

Rook: I see! Even a jacket can look more casual if it's made of linen or polyester.

Riddle: That's right. It was a thought that never would have occurred to me. …Heh! My card soldiers are quite excellent thinkers, aren't they?

Riddle: After that, I traveled to Foothill Town with those two and they helped me select a few new outfits…

Riddle: Next time I am to go into town with my schoolmates, I intend on wearing the clothes I bought then.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Rook: This is a painting depicting a tale of the Son of the God of Thunder, I see. It's quite awe-inspiring with how both he and the pegasus beside him strike such gallant poses.

Riddle: Indeed. It is said that whenever he went into battle, this pegasus fought right alongside him.

Riddle: Whenever I come across one of his historical anecdotes, I cannot help but bring to mind a good partner of mine, as well.

Rook: That partner of yours wouldn't happen to have a beautiful coat of hair, now, would it?

Rook: I heard that you achieved high marks at the most recent equestrian tournament.

Riddle: You heard correctly. I believe Vorpal and I have a deep, mutual trust between ourselves. However, it was quite difficult for us to reach this point, I must say.

Rook: Oh, really?

Riddle: Yes. A little while after I joined the club, the horse I was assigned to ride was Vorpal.

Riddle: However, Vorpal was extremely prideful and would be very particular of which humans could ride him.

Riddle: No one else was ever allowed to ride atop his back in the three years since the previous club captain graduated.

Riddle: For some time after I joined the club, he wouldn't allow me to even place a saddle on his back, let alone ride him.

Riddle: Not only was he a prideful horse, but he was also temperamental. I was often vexed that I couldn't tame him well…

Riddle: But nowadays whenever I visit the stables, he'll come up and nudge me as if he had been waiting for my arrival.

Rook: I suppose that means all those days you zealously spent getting to know him finally melted his icy heart.

Rook: Beauté! What a beautiful relationship.

Riddle: I-I feel as though calling it beautiful may be a slight exaggeration… But I will say I was very pleased when he finally accepted me as his rider.

Riddle: I only learned of it later, but I heard that I was given responsibility over Vorpal intentionally as some sort of hazing.

Riddle: It seems they hoped that I would complain about how difficult it was to tame him and quit the club.

Rook: That sort of harassment shouldn't be tolerated. I'm curious as to why that sort of situation occurred.

Riddle: From what I was told, it all came about because I would chide them whenever they would slack off on training or while cleaning the stables…

Riddle: I simply spoke frankly, there should not have been any ill-will between us.

Rook: Essentially, you overcame the challenges presented to you, and claimed victory over your opponents alongside your partner.

Rook: Fufu, how wonderfully dramatic. Almost as if you were the fated protagonist of a story, going the distance to seize his destiny!

Riddle: A-Another exaggeration…

Riddle: Although, I am very proud of the fact that Vorpal and I were able to become good partners.

Riddle: No form of hazing would ever prove to be an obstacle for me. This story simply proves that.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Riddle: This painting… It depicts the moment the Sorcerer of the Sands acquired that scarab.

Riddle: See the dark blue night sky and the bright golden light… This artwork is highly praised for the beautiful color play.

Rook: This scarab was a key that would lead the way to a magical cave when its two halves were made whole. Do I recall that legend correctly?

Riddle: That's right. It's said that the Sorcerer of the Sands granted a lavish reward to the person who brought one half of the scarab to him.

Rook: That must have meant it was something of great importance to him.

Rook: Once he had obtained such an important key, I'm sure he would have had to take great measures so as to not lose it.

Riddle: True, it is vital to keep keys safe.

Rook: Oh? Riddle-kun, do you have some treasure of your own you've kept hidden?

Riddle: I wouldn't consider it a treasure… But I do have something that I wouldn't wish for others to lay their eyes on.

Rook: Oh, my! Have I touched on a private matter? If so, I apologize profusely.

Riddle: It's nothing to fret over. I'm simply speaking of my Housewarden journal. It contains minutes from the Housewarden meetings and documentation of my duties as Housewarden, among other things…

Riddle: I also have recorded down certain information about my dorm's students, so I would not like it leaked to anyone outside of myself.

Rook: Fufu, I can see just how seriously you're fulfilling your duties as Housewarden, Riddle-kun.

Riddle: If I can keep records of even the most trivial note, I find that it allows me to understand and manage every situation that occurs within my dorm.

Riddle: Only, recently there are more things to write about. It's as if the number of incidents that require more description are increasing.

Rook: Well, that's fascinating. If it isn't asking too much, could I perhaps ask what sort of situations those are?

Riddle: That have been such incidents such as when an argument broke out between Ace and Deuce that I had to involve myself in…

Riddle: Or the time the two from Ramshackle caused a ruckus at one of our Unbirthday Parties…

Riddle: As the number of incidents that need to be recorded increase, the more effort it takes.

Riddle: My days have changed considerably from when I first assumed the duties of a Housewarden, almost unimaginably so…

Riddle: Now that I've had to report on more incidents per day, the number of notebooks I go through have also increased.

Rook: It's as though you're more keeping a diary than just keeping records! Wouldn't you say that the whole reason you've found more to write about is because…

Rook: Your daily life has become even more magnificent and satisfying compared to before?

Riddle: A diary…? I wonder if that's truly so.

Rook: Oui! I myself cannot stop the flowing composition of poems that spill from my hand whenever I am feeling inspired.

Rook: Oh, my, it seems I've kept you for far too long. I should take my leave. I'll talk to you later, Riddle-kun.

Riddle: Of course, Rook-senpai. Well then, I should head towards the next exhibit as well… Hm?

Riddle: This is a painting that shows the tea party scene from the stories of the Avidly Curious Girl.

Riddle: Not only did she invite herself to the tea party, she also drank some potions without permission. Her rude behavior is what leaves a lasting impression.

Riddle: It is said she was searching for a path home… But I'm sure at the rate she was going, she would not be able to find a path to redemption.

Riddle: Regardless of where she came from or where she wanted to go.

Requested by @farfalla049, @sakurakudo, and @a-s-k--g-a-b-i.

[fcwoso]

Jorts season · Leah Williamson

Summary: leah and reader meet each other at a fashion show, leah's jorts throw reader off but the football player manages to charm reader into going out for a drink

Based on this request :) MASTERLIST

You’ve been modeling for a couple of years now. It had started out pretty randomly, and you didn’t really anticipate the career you have now. It was a friend of yours that asked you to model her self-designed clothes which she had made for a school project. One thing led to another, and you quickly found yourself talking to different model agencies across the country. They fell in love with your unique look, and you were thankful for it because you were now having the time of your life. You were grateful for the opportunities that had come on your path, giving you the possibility to see the world and meet amazing people.

It was a different day today, though. You were invited to a fashion show and found yourself sitting along the guests instead of walking down the runway. You didn't mind, because you had a passion for fashion as well and didn't only enjoy showcasing different items. The show was about to start in a few minutes, so you took place on your designated seat. Luckily, you had a good view and was seated on the first row. Most people had taken place as well and were chatting up with whoever was sat next to them. There was an empty seat next to you and you couldn’t help but wonder who would be arriving last minute to a show like this one. You squinted your eyes and read the nameboard that was resting on it. It said Leah Williamson, English football player.

The name didn't really ring a bell, which wasn't surprising, because you weren't that familiar with the world of football. You had a few friends that were, of course, but you didn't pay it as much attention as they did. The host started with tonight's introduction and thanked everyone for their presence. They were a few minutes in before you suddenly felt a gust of wind hit your skin. Once you looked up, you saw a tall blonde take place next to you. She quietly apologized to the people around you two, probably for walking in late and blocking their view while coming over to where you were sitting. She finally turned around and met your face with a small smile, a dimple appearing on each side of her face. You smiled back and took a quick look at the outfit she was wearing. Her outfit consisted of a pair of jorts, a white blouse and black shoes. Your eyes stayed blocked on the jorts she was wearing, embarrassingly long because you heard a chuckle leave the blonde’s mouth.

You felt yourself growing shy under her gaze, due to the fact that you had been staring the woman down, judgment probably visible on your face. She looked great, beautiful even, but the jorts? ‘’I can tell you’re a fan of these.’’ You heard, feeling an arm graze against yours as you felt the woman’s breath hit your skin. Models were starting to appear, gasps and whispers going around while the crowd was admiring this season’s collection. The blonde next to you wasn’t that interested in the pieces being shown in front of her, you noticed. She was more interested in questioning the stranger who was sitting next to her.

‘’I think they’re…okay.’’ You nodded, not sounding convincing because you weren’t being honest, at all. You just hoped the blonde next to you believed the words you said. She playfully rolled her eyes and nudged you while leaning in again to whisper in your ear. ‘’You can be honest, you know. I just had a friend of me roast me.’’ Leah said, as you remembered her name all of a sudden. You preferred not to be honest as you already started to feel bad for making her question the outfit she was wearing. ‘’I think it suits you.’’ You replied instead, your voice a tone higher than it usually is, probably due to the fact that you were being a lying mess. Leah snorted and shook her head before turning her attention on the models that were passing in front of her. You sneakily glanced at her and admired the rings she was wearing on her slender fingers, the earrings that hung from her ears and the blonde pieces of hair that were slightly covering her face.

The rest of the fashion show was great, you were captivated by the outfits that were being shown. The football player next to you seemed to enjoy them as well, as she was taking pictures of items she was probably interested in. You felt her arm graze across yours every now and then and she even managed to accidently step on your foot. It didn’t hurt, but that didn’t stop Leah from apologizing to you multiple times. You had giggled at her, blue eyes wide open as she cursed herself for being so clumsy.  

Once the lights were on and everyone was slowly leaving the big hall, you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. The blonde was being so nice to you while you had been judging her, probably coming across as snobby. So, you decided to apologize as a nice person would do. Both of you had stood up now. Leah’s eyes were flickering from her phone to you, contemplating if she would restart the conversation or leave it as it was. You collected some courage and decided to take a step closer, oblivious to the thought that was racing through to blonde’s mind. Leah put her phone away as soon she saw you walking her way, a nervous smile appearing on her face.

‘’Hey, so-‘’ ‘’I was wonde-‘’ You both blurted out at the same time, stopping your sentences halfway before bursting out in laughter. ‘’You first.’’ She said, allowing you to finish what you were meaning to say. ‘’I just wanted to apologize for earlier.’’ You began, fiddling with your fingers while blue eyes stared at your form. A nice smile was displayed on her face, encouraging you to continue talking. ‘’I was being a bit rude.’’ You finished, softly laughing at your poor attempt of apologizing for your behaviour. Leah shook her head, questioning herself now if she had come across as harsh. ‘’It’s all good.’’ The blonde said and looked at the jorts she was wearing before taking a look at your outfit. The one she had been sneakily eying during the show. ‘’I’m always up for some fashion advice.’’ Was what she said before she took her phone out of her pocket.

‘’I can tell you have a lot to say.’’ You felt even more embarrassed by her teasing words, wishing the ground would swallow you up. ‘’I have time. How about you?’’ Leah smoothly asked before raising an eyebrow. The room was starting to get emptier. Most people had walked out already, probably heading over to the after show. To be fair, you weren’t in the mood to party. You weren’t in the mood for loud music either, or champagne or small talk. You took a look around before returning your eyes on the woman in front of you and nodded. ‘’I have time.’’ You replied, seeing a smile appear on Leah’s face. You both exchanged numbers before parting your ways, deciding to meet up later tonight for a drink. Leah had asked you for your name, of course, because up until the conversation you were ‘’miss judgy face’’. You snorted at her confession, crediting her for the creative name.

‘’I’ll see you later.’’ Was what Leah said as she took you in her arms, giving you a small firm hug before making her way to the exit. She turned around halfway and waved at you. ‘’Don’t worry, I’m changing outfits.’’ You heard her say, making you laugh once again. You waved back and decided it was time to head back to your hotel to rest a little before heading out to meet up with the interesting blonde. You found yourself chuckling at the awkward exchange you had at the start of the show. But let’s be real, Jorts?

[libraincarnate]

astrology notes: 13 🌅

quick note: i'm absolutely not an astrologer. these are just a collection of some observations, thoughts, theories, and personal experiences. with that being said, i'm still learning along the way & i may come back to edit this post to make corrections. above all this is just for fun. lastly, keep in mind that i’m not reading your birth chart and i know nothing about you. these are just some possibilities that may or may not apply to you. enjoy!

🌞 the sign/water sign that’s labeled as the most emotional is cancer but pisces are also so emotional that they can compete with cancer for 1st place.

anyway, pisces can be super lovey dovey, the type to look at their partner like everything good & beautiful in this world is found within them. pisces feel emotions deeply and it can weigh so heavily on them that it feels overwhelming to the point they wish it would just stop. it reminds me of how stefan salvatore described what it’s like being a vampire to elena gilbert in tvd, how everything is heightened & they feel both the highs and the lows strongly and for this reason many vampires choose to turn off their humanity/emotions.

🌞 having your sun & north node in the 5th or 12th house can indicate musical talent that you are known for but this doesn’t particularly mean fame on a massive scale. you might play multiple instruments, you might be a self-taught musician, if you’re taught by someone else you’re a fast learner and you can connect the dots or notice patterns that take you further in your musical abilities & musical intelligence. and instead of being a famous musician/singer you may play in a band, an orchestra, or at a church but you’re very well known for your talents locally or on a smaller scale.

🌞 libras are the type to ask you which outfit or lip gloss to wear just to choose something else or ask someone else. sometimes asking for another opinion is enough & other times it only makes them more indecisive.

🌞 the face of a gemini rising is so interesting. they definitely look younger than they really are & probably get mistaken for a much younger age. there are people who have drastic glow ups & some who look the same pretty much throughout their whole life. but with gemini risings, if you compare like 10 different pictures of them from childhood to present day it looks like 10 different people that look related but not the same, it looks like they could be sisters or brothers but it doesn’t look like the same person.

🌞 aries in the 11th house: even after getting to know you, your friends may still find you intimidating. may have a lot of male friends or you did growing up, because of this it’s possible that getting attention from men doesn’t faze you. doesn’t give in to peer pressure, may like to play fight or play sports with your friends, but they could think you’re a bit aggressive at times. the competitive friend, “last one to the car is a rotten egg!”

🌞 uranus in the 8th house: you might have an enthusiastic fascination with 8th house related themes. initially this may come as a surprise to you since a lot of these themes are considered dark or forbidden. if you share this side of you with others, they're also surprised cause it's something hidden & no one would have guessed it. you might listen to heavy metal, practice witchcraft, always talk about astrology, or death because the mystery surrounding it intrigues you. people may also think you’re weird for liking these things or they may try to discourage you from doing them.

🌞 retrograde planets like pluto, mars, or mercury in the 1st house, chart ruler in the 8th or 12th house, or having many planets including your chart ruler in retrograde: you may feel doomed, cursed, or scared to live because you’re so familiar with the difficulties and the challenging side of life. you’ve faced obstacle after obstacle & it feels relentless, or you’ve experienced great suffering & trauma that has taken such a toll on you that you’re paranoid of suffering in the future. you almost expect it and you can have a very pessimistic perspective of life. here’s an extra heart for you guys, ♥. life can feel extra hard so remember to be extra nice to yourselves!

🌞sags: integrity is something they take seriously. if you’re going to say something you better mean it and if you’re going to do something then just do it. they expect people to stay true to their words and follow through with their actions but they also strive to do the same. they put great importance on morals, it’s almost like a compass for these nomadic natives. despite how wild and carefree sags can be, they still care about their reputation. but this means being themselves, living their lives according to their rules & not caring what people think as long as they know people are seeing the true & authentic version of them.

🌞 3rd house synastry: there’s a lot of bonding and making memories together. taking road trips together may be something the two of you enjoy. this reminds me of the movie twilight when bella’s mom gifted her a quilt made of t-shirts they got and saved as souvenirs from the road trips they took. the two of you are probably always talking to each other, having late night conversations, falling asleep on the phone, really getting to know each other well both inside & out, understanding how their mind works, finishing each other’s sentences. it’s possible the two of you went to school together when you were younger. or you show them an old picture of yourself & they notice the area in the background, come to find out the two of you grew up in the same neighborhood or city even though you’ve never met before or you don’t remember meeting them.

🌞 lilith in the 11th house: these natives may dislike technology or the internet/social media for what it is/has become or the way that people use it. they may take periodic breaks from social media & may be against cancel culture. could hate the structure of society or the way the world works & may wish they could live on another planet/in another world.

🌞 venus represents beauty, pluto represents transformation, saturn represents delay & reward, and jupiter represents blessings & expansion. for these reasons i think venus making an aspect to these planets can indicate a glow up.

venus-pluto: the type to come out of the dark looking different but better than ever.

venus-saturn: the one who looks better and better as they get older & aging like fine wine.

venus-jupiter: this can indicate someone who was born beautiful/handsome but then they reach another point in their life where they become prettier or even more attractive.

🌞 harsh mars-moon aspects: can indicate someone irritable, someone who wrestles with their emotions, their feelings can feel burdensome, what they’re feeling can get in the way of them taking action because their emotions may feel like a disturbance or distraction. when they’re upset they may want to break things, they may be prone to expressing & releasing their emotions in a physical way.

🌞 libra, taurus, cancer, or pisces venus in the 2nd/4th house: they’re the type to look good in public and in the privacy of their home, even if they live alone. they might really like buying & wearing lounge wear and pajamas but they still look good. could have their hair done, jewelry on, etc. & it doesn’t have to be in a super elaborate way, but it can be. may like buying beautiful and good quality pajamas. the type to wear perfume/cologne to bed or scented lotion. a cute sleep mask & glamorous ear plugs like audrey hepburn in breakfast at tiffany’s.

🌞 having prominent virgo/18° placements: you may frequently find yourself in a place of servicing or helping others, even if you don’t want to. it just seems to be a theme in your life.

in the 4th house you may help out at home a lot or your mom depends on you/relies on you for assistance.

in the 6th house you may do volunteer work or you tend to stay late & help at your job.

in the 9th house perhaps you help out at church by organizing events, keeping the sanctuary clean, dedicating your time to religious service.

🌞 4th house ruler in the 8th house: paranoid at home, may feel like your family is always watching you, may feel like they go through your stuff, a lack of privacy at home, power struggles with your mom.

🌞 3rd house ruler in the 8th house: frequently thinking about sex, a seductive or mysterious way of communicating, perhaps not much of a presence on social media, intrusive thoughts about your past, researching the occult.

🌞 7th house ruler in the 2nd house: benefiting monetarily from your relationships, sugar baby, making great profit from business relations, a luxurious wedding, spending money on others, giving gifts as a way to show your love and appreciation, financial losses from lawsuits, possibly getting sued by someone you trusted or someone you were close to.

🌞 10th house ruler in the 7th house: using your connections to reach your goals, your relationships having an influence on your reputation, enemies sabotaging your opportunities, a pleasant relationship with your dad, committed to your work, elevating your partner’s life, potentially a spouse or relationships that comes with fame, building a career may be a bigger priority than being in a relationship.

🌞 leo moon: not the type who’s afraid to tell people how they feel, leo moons aren't not known to be emotional in a stereotypical way, but those who know them personally may think that they are emotional, it may be easy for them to validate their feelings & see how they’ve been hurt by others but it may be hard for them to realize how they’ve hurt someone else, may like expressing their feelings through creative outlets such as art or music, could be very-family oriented, could feel an emotional attachment to their hair, they can be the friend to turn to when in despair.

🌞 if you check your birth chart and the birth charts of your family members, you might notice some kind of pattern that reveals shared/similar experiences or recurring themes within your family.

for example, my friend, his brother, and his dad all had experiences of nearly drowning. he & his dad have a 12th house stellium with 8th house placements, his brother has an 8th house stellium with 12th house placements, and they all have neptune in their stellium. (the 8th & 12th house are ruled by water signs, and neptune is associated with water or the ocean/sea)

if there’s a pattern of issues with the women in your family, estranged mother-daughter relationships, a lack of closeness between family members, or family dysfunction you may notice a pattern of lilith or chiron in the 4th house/cancer, moon in the 8th/12th house, or an empty 4th house.

perhaps your family is really into sports, your parents & grandparents played sports professionally, or perhaps you & your siblings played sports in school. maybe you watch the super bowl every year together as tradition, frequently go to sporting events, or there’s just a pattern of sports fanatics throughout your family. if so, there could be a pattern of a 5th house stellium, mars dominant, 9th house ruler in the 5th house, aries in the 10th house, or mars-saturn aspects.

if there’s a pattern of late marriages, a lack of romantic relationships, or troublesome marriages you may notice a pattern of saturn in the 7th house, harsh venus-saturn aspects, venus in retrograde in the 7th house, harsh venus-jupiter aspects.

🌞 speaking of family, birth charts, & patterns, i just analyzed mine and my family’s charts based on appearance and i want to scream. i looked at our natal charts, along with our venus & ascendant persona charts. in those charts i focused on the ascendant & venus, including the sign they’re placed in & the degrees. & i also looked at dominant signs as well, but only in the natal chart because i was really going down a rabbit hole and had to stop myself.

i took all those things into consideration because as i said in another post, i believe there are so many factors to consider regarding appearance in astrology other than the rising sign of your birth chart.

the 4 main signs that realllly showed up and kept repeating were sag, virgo, libra, leo, and scorpio.

for example, my mom doesn’t have any prominent sag placements while my dad has a sag rising in his ascendant persona chart & sag is one of his dominant signs in his natal chart. my mom is a little above the average women’s height in my country but my siblings & i are tall like my dad.

my mom has dimples but doesn’t have any prominent libra placements or freckles. i’ve mentioned before how i’m libra/venus dominant with tons of dimples/freckles/birth marks, etc. but my dad also has a libra rising in his birth chart and he’s decorated with freckles, beauty marks, etc. just like me, minus the dimples.

leo is one of my mom’s dominant signs in her natal chart and my dad has a leo rising in his venus persona chart. i have a rising sign at 29° (leo degree) & one of the things that stand out about my appearance is my hair and people always comment on my hair as well.

these are just a few examples of the patterns i’ve noticed. but you guys, when i say it goes on & on? i mean it. i literally had to create a chart to keep track of how many times each sign showed up because it just kept on repeating and i eventually called it quits. i literally looked like the pepe silvia meme of charlie from it's always sunny in philadelphia.

i just want to end this by saying obviously doctors or scientists don’t look at a person’s appearance or genetics and say “omg your dad is a leo rising so you probably got your big hair from him.” so i’m not saying any of this is fact or evidence, but when i look at our charts and compare our appearances it’s so cool to see a relevant pattern in astrology. perhaps some of you may notice some interesting things about you & your family too.

if you read this until the end i hope you enjoyed it & thank you so much for reading. ♥︎︎♥︎︎♥︎︎, those hearts are for you.

[setsugekka]

❥déjà vu (m)

↳ One year after the fulfillment of a particularly raunchy agreement with your best friends husband, the three of you once again find yourselves together over a bottle of pinot noir, an appetizer, and an unforeseen question laid out on the table:

If you could do it all again, would you?

kim doyoung x fem!reader — friends with benefits, gratuitous sexual content, porn with plot [21k wc] cws: open relationship, alcohol consumption, bdsm-heavy!! dominant doyoung, submissive reader, restraints, impact play, slapping, dom-drop+aftercare, unprotected penetrative sex, oral sex (m+f), gratuitous dirty talk/degradation/humiliation, cum play/facials/wet&messy, deep throating, safe word usage, ravishment play, infidelity play, spit play, doyoung has a big dick and fucks like a pornstar.

In the dimly lit ambiance of the swanky restaurant that you and your present company currently reside, and over the dull, pleasant hum of the chatter of the surround patrons, you suppose you can't help but reminisce, just a little bit.

One year.

Not on the dot, a few weeks give or take since the beginning of one such agreement, but nevertheless a time in your life that you've found yourself recalling perhaps a few more times than you'd care to admit. Admit to yourself, and especially to aforementioned present company.

You bring yourself back from the thought just in time to make eye contact with the man across the table from you — a knowing collection of features gracing his face, of course, he doesn't know the ins and outs of whatever it is that happens to take your attention in the moment, but rather, just that there had been something to stir you away from the present. The ringing laughter of your best friend just next to him finally coming into earshot to let you know that the two had been engaged in some other conversation that you must have tuned out slightly, you watch her snake an arm around his as his preoccupied one continues to top off your glass of red wine.

Thankfully, third-wheeling with the couple has become far more comfortable, though, you suppose you know what the reason for that may be.

Mina, with blonde hair tied back into a ponytail and a black sweater on — it must have been the evening for couple outfits, as Doyoung sports just about the same, minus the blonde hair, instead sporting his usual black with seemingly no interest in ever changing his look.

"I'm so annoyed I have to go on this business trip at all," Mina huffs, across the table and next to her husband. "But they did say that I would need to be gone like this occasionally when I took it, so hopefully it can be done and over with as quickly as possible, at least."

"How long was it, again?" You ask, fork gently pressed between your lips to clean it off.

She rolls her eyes as the response begins to leave her. "A month. I don't know what he's going to do without me."

Playful in nature, Mina cozies up with Doyoung next to her as she says it, to which he merely offers a roll of his own eyes before audibly inhaling to response. "Surely I can manage."

"He'll probably just work the whole time, anyways," You add. Your friend nods knowingly. "Aren't you writing a book?"

Lips to his glass, he begins speaking into at the tail end of his sip before placing it back onto the table to carry on with the thought. "It's finished. Loose ends here or there but mostly done. Back to the usual workload, now."

Humming, you carefully shovel another forkful of pasta into your mouth before your vision catches on Mina — a certain gleam in her eye that you know all too well by now to mean that the woman be up to no good, you slow in your motions as you maintain your eyes upon her in wait for what it is that she almost certainly be about to unload on either of you in the middle of this far-too-expensive restaurant.

"Actually," she starts with a jingle to her tone. Eyes now averted from either of you, she still maintains the wicked upturn of the corners of her lips as she hesitates only slightly before finishing the sentence with little more presented to either of you. "I kind of wanted to talk to you about something—"

"Who?"

The word drops from both you and Doyoung simultaneously, and as a result, pulls a resonating chuckle from the woman.

"Well, both of you."

Uh-oh.

Doyoung, once having had his head turned towards his wife, now slowly pulls his vision ahead again, but not without narrow, questioning eyes still remaining to his side as if suspecting her being up to no-good. For good reason, as well, because you maintain the same amount of surveillance on her in wait for what it is that she's about to bestow.

Like a villain sitting in her evil, hands twisting within themselves for all of the devilishness that be about to transpire as a result of her.

"I have an idea."

"Well, that much we can tell, you only get like this when you have one of your ideas," Doyoung can't help but quip back immediately. A man lovingly fed up with all of the nonsense that his wife bring to his life, while no doubt being a large part of the reason that he love her in the first place. "So, what is it, then?"

"No fun, as usual." She sighs before taking a hastened sip from her own glass of wine. Then, her attention turns almost exclusively towards you, as if equally fed up with the way that her husband be behaving in regards to her unknown genius. "Since I'm going to be gone so long, I was thinking — why don't you come stay at the house?"

A shocked, resounding ‘what!?’ coming from both you and the husband in question, once again.

Of course, Mina only laughs at the response from you two with a gentle shake of her head to top it off.

You don't entirely know what to make of the offer, and frankly, you're a little bit too afraid to ask. Instead, you're thankful for Doyoung's bluntness, and perhaps also his familiarity in navigating these particular waters with his wife — because you think you know what she's suggesting, but he most certainly will be the one to ask the question out loud.

"Are you suggesting another arrangement while you're gone?"

"Yeah, why not?" She chimes back as if it be the most normal thing in the world. That it be bizarre for anyone to so much as question it further. "It's a whole month, darling."

"Fairly certain I can keep myself busy enough to not die without having sex for a month."

In ways, this conversation not really involve you currently. Should it play out a specific way, suppose then your input be necessary, but for now: this is between the betrothed.

Mina finally turns in the booth to face him better, but Doyoung insists on maintaining his calculated stature in facing forward and staring out towards the nothingness of the restaurant. He's difficult to read in moments like this; unable to discern if he's upset by the proposition, the potential implications of it, or if he's interested and just unwilling to come of all too eager, and especially in front of you.

After all, the last time sure did end off with a bang, of sorts.

"Are you mad at me?" She asks cutely, as if knowing the answer already. A woman who knows her husbands buttons well, as he turns to give her his full, undivided attention almost the moment that the last syllable drops from her mouth.

"No! I'm not mad, it's just," he pauses, thinking through his word choice carefully as a result of present company, you're sure. "I thought we all agreed that it was a one time thing."

"Then say you're not interested and I'll drop it."

For a split second, Doyoung's eyes catch your own, but he pulls them back and away from you nearly just as swiftly.

You don't think you've ever seen him like this. So...flustered?

Swallowing so hard you watch the lump in his throat bob, Doyoung cocks his head to the side once as if stretching for the marathon of a conversation that his acquiescence to this may just result in. A marathon, indeed, because there would certainly be a whole load more negotiations to take place for a month of who-knows-what-really.

Hesitancy to admit that he's interested in the arrangement. Reluctance to admit it outright without seeming all too eager to re-engage. Tricky waters for the husband in question to navigate, certainly.

Eyes fluttering shut, he sighs. "I'm not against it, just...surprised."

And unfortunately, that means it's your turn now.

Both of their attention now turning to you just as the waiter comes and brings the bill to your table, you feel the heat of embarrassment rush to your face — as if this stranger be privy to the topics ongoing currently — you chuckle nervously as you take the paper in hand, only for Doyoung to just as swiftly tear it away from you before you have so much as a second to consider paying it yourself.

"Well?" Mina questions, chin resting inside of her palm as an elbow settles against the waxed wood of the table top.

For whatever reason, you choose not to acknowledge the man any further as you think through your answer. Assuming him far too busy calculating incredibly simple math especially for someone with a career in finance, all you are capable of is simply thinking him all too enamored in that to be paying any interest or mind to what your response to this question could be. So, with eyes glued to the table in front of you, you muster up all of the courage that you can, while simultaneously biting back the bubbling excitement that you're not too proud of having, before finally giving your best friend your full attention and giving the answer that you think be the one that everyone at the table be looking forward to hearing from you.

"Yeah. I'm down."

Three weeks later, you bring your belongings for your extended stay over to the house that you find already to be comfortable.

There's a certain air about it: a place that you've already spent countless days and nights at, but knowing the circumstances under which you're back inside of their humble abode offering a new set of eyes that you have long since abandoned since a year or so back. Kitchen countertops and upstairs walls that serve as reminders of all sorts of goings on between you and the man of the house — perhaps things you may find yourself revisiting as well as new, unexplored areas with him — there's an excitement within you that now takes the place of any uncertainty or reluctance the first time around.

Because you know Doyoung, and you trust him completely.

Dragging a large suitcase inside, as well as an over-the-shoulder bag and a laptop bag for work, you carefully set your belongings down on the white, marble flooring of the home as you listen for the nearing sounds of footsteps hurrying down the upstairs hallway and towards you. Mina tips over the railing with a bright, cheerful smile — somehow the happiest of the three of you about the way that things are going to carry out for the next thirty days.

"You're here! Doie! She's here!"

Of course, you don't hear from the man, and instead your friend rushes herself down the stairs and into your arms with a wide, tight hug.

"I'm also hungry, I hope there's food in this house," You playfully respond, but before Mina has the chance, Doyoung retorts plainly from the same railing that Mina had been lovingly doting on you only minutes before.

"Suppose I'm expected to keep you fed then, as well."

"Yes, dear," Mina dryly answers with a huff over her shoulder. "Feed and fuck her, that's the agreement."

It being so simply discussed out in the open perhaps something you may never grow completely comfortable with, and with eyes glancing upwards to gauge the mans response as a result of his wife’s words, Doyoung's eyes only roll before sauntering down the stairway just the same as the woman had.

"Are you going to make dinner tonight?" Mina questions as he arrives just behind her. Hands in pockets, he shrugs rather nonchalantly, as if it make no difference to him either way. "I could."

He meets eyes with you, a single eyebrow raising. "Should I?"

"Uh, yeah," you hesitate in response, arms still wrapped around his wife as the conversation carries on. "That'd be really nice."

"I'll go prep then while the two of you say your goodbyes."

And before exiting the scene, Doyoung leans forward and around to kiss Mina — her still very much attached from you, it results in a very full, somewhat-intimate moment that you're all too included in. Unsure if they simply not be aware of your proximity or just as much not care, you swallow and glance away until they're finished — Doyoung's eyes once again catching onto your own before he pulls away from the blonde woman and disappears inside of the kitchen just down the hall.

Shortly there after, Mina separates herself from you, as well. Bags already packed and set aside by the door, you ask her if she need any help in bringing her things out to while she protests, and simply tells you to go and enjoy your stay...

...as well as 'all of the things that the stay has to offer.'

You're not sure if you should feel guilty for the amount of anticipation you've been holding back ever since the initial conversation, but you can't help but wishing for the woman to hurry herself out of the residence, even just a little bit.

You love her, of course, and if her being there instead were an option you would happily choose that ahead of your own interests.

But it's not an option, and frankly, you want to fuck her husband again. No real need to beat around the bush about it, this time.

Two hours after the wife’s departure, the scent of dinner brewing emanates throughout the lower level of the residency that you're now expected to call 'home' for the next month. Surrounded by familiar, white walls and granite countertops, the tall man within be laid with the multitasking of dinner-making while you carry out the finishing touches of table setting. One hand carefully cupped around the tip of the last candle, you hold the lighter against the wick for the fire to catch, and pulling away, you glance over the handy work that you've done in the meantime as you wait for the food to finish cooking. With a heavy sigh coming from Doyoung, you glance over only to find him missing momentarily — popping up from his presumed kneeling position in front of the small, compact wine cooler with a bottle of white in hand.

"Are you going to get changed?"

His expression is somewhat deadpan, which you suppose is to be a bit expected of him, but the question definitely coming from out of left field given your lack of knowledge of even being expected to wear something other than what it is that you had arrived in.

Was this...a date?

Stammering slightly, you do some quick, on your feet thinking about anything that you may have easily accessible in one of your bags that not require a whole lot of putting together in the last minute. "Yeah, give me a second."

Nearly jogging out of the dining room, you hear the man loudly and in your direction. "Make it quick, dinner's in ten."

Pulling a loose, casual dress from your bag and quickly bringing yourself upstairs and into the guest bedroom that you're now to call your own, you can't help but divert your attention down the hall to the shared bedroom of the wedded couple, with one, main rule bestowed upon you by Mina days before your arrival. Her only request of the two of you and your adventures together while she be gone:

Never in their shared room.

No interest in breaking such a rule, instead, you think it charming as you disrobe quickly to change into something more fitting for the evening together. That even in all of the things the couple be willing to share in their marriage, some things still remain off limits, and only for them.

As you re-enter the kitchen area, you catch Doyoung as he pull his apron off from around his neck. Long, thin finger deftly working at the tie around his small waist in a way that reminds you of precisely the way that the mans body look: broad shoulders cinching so snugly at the middle — accentuated by the way fitted trousers and belt hug him and pull at the loose fabric of his button down shirt — he catches you looking well before you find enough awareness to bring your eyes away, and a flush of heat settles at just the tips of your ears as a result of being found out in such a way.

He says nothing, however, instead carrying on with the task of setting the discarded item onto the back of a chair and nodding towards the glass dinner table. "It's ready."

Walking steadily behind him, you realize that the close proximity of the both of you in such a way having long since reignited a sort of burning passion within you for the man — with eyes cascading over his shoulders and back as he bring himself forward, you feel the first, all too evident throb of arousal between your legs that you know, for a fact, you can't possibly place blame on anything else.

When the original agreement had come to a close, you accepted as much happily. A good, positive, growing experience for you in so many ways, but more than that, you were satisfied. Not just sexually, but with your relationships, your life, and your choices. Within the closure came a certain kind of acceptance of yourself in ways that you had never had the opportunity to find before, and now with the re-opening of it, what you really hope to find is more of that.

More acceptance, more trust.

In ways the nature of such agreement never truly able to be just about sex. You can't speak for him, but for you, so much more to be learned and experienced.

Reaching the clear end of the table, majority of the things residing atop it placed further down to accommodate the fact that only two people be sitting there this evening, Doyoung stops so abruptly in his tracks that you nearly collide straight into him — hands coming up to steady yourself and set space between the two of your bodies, it turns into a bit of a whirlwind, however, when you feel the familiar grip of fingers coming around one of your wrists and pulling you forward and in front of the man.

You don't get much more time between then and the few seconds following: expertly placed up and on top of the glass with your legs pried apart to make room for the man between them.

The first kiss comes equally hard and fast, as well.

Nipping into your bottom lip, you don't need much help navigating these particular waters as your hands already make quick work of his belt, followed shortly thereafter by the button and zipper of his black trousers — with such little time passed and a palm pressed against the front of his pants, you find only the beginnings of an erection forming, enough to have you groaning into his mouth with promise of what's to come all of the same, however.

A master of his craft, Doyoung having already pressed the majority of the length of your dress up your hips upon hoisting you onto the table, he dips a single finger down the front of your panties and between your folds, as if to test the waters already. From your position, it's easy to feel the ease in which he glides against you due to the slickness already presented to him — your reward thus far? An absolutely wicked groan of his own through teeth that bite down just a little bit harder into your lip.

"God, how long have you wanted this?" He says with a low tone, words delivered directly into your open mouth as you gasp for air at the feeling of him rubbing gentle circles into your clit just the way he knows you like it. "You're so wet already. You still think about it, huh?"

Less interested in playing games and more willing to be a far more active participant this time around — leaving behind the shyness and apprehension that came along with the completely uncharted waters of the first time — you tilt your head back just slightly and grin, taking in the feeling of him all over again.

"Yeah, I do," you answer with airy confidence. "Don't you?"

"Fuck yes I do."

Words coming through in nearly a growl, Doyoung drags his mouth down along your jaw to suck into the skin all of the way down your neck before settling into the juncture of your shoulder. Pointed sucks and nips into the skin there as if a man truly starved for your touch, you feel him pull you forward and tilt you back just slightly — adjusting the angle of your body so that the fingers teasing you can slip down further — middle finger gliding so easily inside of you, he gives you three pumps of it before adding a second to see how much you need to be prepped for him.

The answer is very little.

Barely any resistance brought to him as he fucks you open with his fingers, you lean back with one palm against the glass behind you to remain stable as the other fishes out his length from behind the confines of the fabric holding it. Long and beautiful, just like you remembered, you run the palm of your hand up the underside of his shaft before delicately wrapping fingers around him and offering him a few lazy strokes; for no other reason than to hear the way his breath hitches just beneath your ear as his mouth carries on its journey back up that way.

As the man carefully creates enough space between your bodies to hook fingers into the sides of your undergarment and pull it down your legs, as he quickly presses his own pants down his thighs just enough to not be a deterrent, you can't help but notice the palpable urgency that this instance carries: a man known for his intensity and ability to maintain stoicism even in the face of erotic desire, this time you find him nearly unrecognizable from any of the times before. No roles between you, no power dynamics at play.

Just two people and raw, sexual desire.

Forearms hooked up and under your legs for leverage, you reach down to him to angle and ease him inside of you with one, smooth drive of his hips — sinking into you with heavy, contented sighs dropping from the both of your mouths at the feeling of each other. Rocking into you shallowly two, three times, it's only then that Doyoung reach his hand up to grasp the side of your neck as if to hold you there, in place, and with all eyes on him, as well.

Pulling the leg still in his grasp up and tightly against the side of his body, he offers you a quick, hard, snap of his hips that finally has you feeling exactly how it is that you want him to make you feel.

Crying out, he settles his forehead against your own, looking you dead in the eyes as he offers another hard drive of his cock into you. The angle is just right for him to graze your g-spot with intense pressure, and already, you feel your thighs quaking around him at the sudden onset of it.

He starts slow, but is quick to find his pace against you, all the while holding you firm in his gasp for just the right amount of leverage that every forceful thrust into you be received with the utmost impact.

You had forgotten how easily he's able to have to falling apart under, and around him.

Electric intensity coursing through every nerve ending, toes curling as your moans quickly dissolve into pathetic whimpers, you feel the prickling of wetness threatening your tear ducts as you bite hard into your bottom lip in an attempt to bring yourself back, even just a little bit.

It's the first time, and relatively vanilla, at that. This man can not have you withering like this already, it's humiliating.

With his jaw tight and teeth gritted as he stairs down towards you, you whine out as the hand around your neck snakes up just ever so slightly and into the hair at the back of your head — fist clenching tight within the strands, and it's only then that Doyoung break his gaze with you and trail hot, dry lips down to the shell of your ear.

"Thought I forgot what you like?" He asks with a drop of venom to his tone. "Don't want to ruin you just yet, we still have dinner to eat."

There's that nasty mouth you had grown to love a year ago.

With impending orgasm on the horizon that no doubt that man inside of you can feel, he trades in shorter, quicker drives into you for fuller, longer ones — offering you the feeling of the entirety of his cock with every snap of his hips, and it's really then that you realize that Doyoung have your likes a little bit too under his thumb for your liking.

But only as far as ego goes. Physically, you already find yourself lamenting the day in which this must once again come to an end.

Walls clenching down around him, Doyoung hisses into your ear as you bite back the full, long moan of an orgasm that's soon to shake you, and dipping down only long enough to nip and suck into the skin below your ear, he brings his mouth back up to it right as you're on the verge of your release.

"How about you make me come, so that I can lick it out of you for dessert."

And that will certainly do the trick.

Yelling out so loudly that you're happy to know that the two of you home alone and on a plot of land large enough that neighbors not be a concern, your orgasm rips through you, so desperate to grip onto something that one hand come up to curl fingers into Doyoung's forearm as he hold you by the hair in place for him to fuck into. Bringing his head up to look at you, as if the unsure about the motion and having to check in on the goings on visually — happy with the scene as your eyes roll back into harshly knitted eyebrows, you hear him groan from the chest — full-bodied and throaty as he comes as well with only a handful more drives into you before burying his cock entirely to empty his load inside of you.

The familiar twitch of him as he comes — mouth delicately hung ajar and looking down at the place where he disappears inside of you — a simple man who enjoy all of the carnal pleasures that sex offer him as much as any other. Prim, proper, put together on the outside but when given the chance, a man willing to say and do the the nastiest, filthiest things to and for a partner...for the both of your enjoyment.

The wetter, the messier — the better it is, for you and him, alike.

And as the two of you sit together for dinner only moments after, discussing the trials and tribulations of adult, workload life — with his cum dripping from your cunt and soaking into your panties, you know one thing is for sure, and that is that whatever is left of it inside of you by the time you two are finished here, he most certainly will be making good on his promise of dessert.

Waking up in the morning feels strange, even under the circumstances of a fake-dating agreement.

On one hand, it makes sense: preferring to sleep in the comfort of ones own bed, but as you lie awake, staring at the while ceiling above and listening to the hum of the dehumidifier that stand tucked away in the furthest corner of the room, you can't help but feel something. Some way about it.

However, it is early into the scenario — only day two, so perhaps it best to allow these feelings of uncertainty lie dormant for just a little while longer — given time to manifest into something if they ever are to, before bringing it to the attention of the man of the house.

Would it be a strange request? All things considered and through all of the other goings on, could something as quaint as the request to be slept next to be one unspoken hard limit for the husband in question?

A single, hard blink has you putting the thought out of your mind in exchange for rolling over to face the window as the delicate blanketing of morning rays wash over your frame. Snagging your phone from off of the nightstand, you check the time only to be be shocked by how early it is — only a bit past six — you come to realize that it explain the sound of rustling from downstairs that you originally thought to be nothing but the typical sounds of a house in the night.

For a moment, you contemplate attempting to go back to sleep, rolling onto your back once again and sprawling across as much of the expanse of the much-too-large furniture as you can possibly manage. Instead, it's the sound of the espresso machine ringing loudly through the residence that has you reconsidering your options.

Footsteps climbing the stairs, you can't help but listen in on the way that the man moves about when not in the company of you or others. Sounding as if he is, however, you hear him on the phone to someone or another — displeased at best, as well, given the strength to his voice despite being unable to make out the words. Shuffling around his office briefly only to disappear back down to the lower level, you decide then that you much too curious about Doyoung in a way that you hadn't quite expected: him as a person, him as an employee, him detached from sexuality almost entirely.

Feet into slippers and a light robe over your shoulders, you quietly tip-toe your way down to the kitchen where it seem that the majority of the early morning happenings be taking place — as you make your way closer, the distinct scent of coffee brewing and and continued sounds of an irritated man, none too thrilled about the conversation taking place, but it's only when you reach the nearest entryway and your presence demands his attention, that you feel as though you may have been walking into more than you had thought to be signing up for.

Black hair styled and slicked back with a gray suit adorning him — it would appear normal, given his occupation, if not for one, glaring, difference to the typical business attire.

No shirt worn underneath the jacket, instead, you find yourself faced with the expanse of smooth skin that you're already well acquainted with, sure.

But not like this?

Your being there appears to fluster him slightly as he turns his back towards you quickly and cusses under his breath despite still being on the phone. Informing the person on the other line that he'll call them back, you watch with a sort of innocent enjoyment as Doyoung pulls the jacket closed before turning to face you again.

"What are you doing awake?" He all but stutters out, a good attempt at maintaining his vocal balance through his embarrassment, you have to give it to him.

With a single eyebrow perked upwards, you offer him nothing more than a gentle grin at first, slipping through the doorway finally and pulling a mug down from one of the higher cupboards to pour yourself a cup of coffee. "I don't sleep so well in new places, it'll take a couple of days to get used to a new bed."

You can't be sure if ignoring the elephant in the room be what he desire right then and there, or if instead it only lending to more awkwardness — so, you make a judgment call then and there as you turn to seat yourself at the kitchen island and hopping into one of the tall stools that reside there.

"So—"

"Don't." He immediately interjects with screwed shut eyes and a palm up towards you.

A small giggle escapes your mouth at his insistence, but beyond that, you choose to let it lie as you quietly scroll through your phone. Doyoung, however, not as easily placated — shuffling around nervously in place, and if you didn't know any better, you might think him to be irritated at your lack of insistence further.

"It's not what it looks like."

Glancing up towards him, you blink once. "I assure you that I have no idea what it looks like."

It's the truth, because after all: what the fuck?

Rolling his eyes and accepting defeat, the man grabs his mug from behind him and seats himself across the way from you with phone in hand as if waiting for a call that he intend on answering the absolute second that it begins coming through.

"So, you know I wrote a book."

You nod.

"Publisher wants me to do some promotional photos for it, now I get word last minute that the photographer isn't coming and they're having a hard time finding someone who can make it all of the way out here in time."

"Is there a reason that they want you to be dressed like a Chippendales dancer for a book about business and finances?"

Groaning and tossing his head back so abruptly you think he might send the entirety of himself barreling backwards and out of his chair, when he comes back upwards, he looks approximately as pained about the whole ordeal as you might expect him to.

"Something about selling more books."

A questioning hum into the rim of your mug, you would be lying if you said that you didn't enjoy having a bit of the high ground over the man for once. Tables turned briefly as he sits across from you nearly nervously sweating the wax out of his perfectly styled hair — when the call begins to come through finally, Doyoung jumps up and out of his chair to answer it — hurried and excited at first, only to find himself sounding just as annoyed and despondent as you had heard him earlier on.

Guess it's not going well.

Turning to you once again as he ends the call and setting his phone onto the granite countertop with a heavy sigh, he tilts his head backwards with eyes closed as if in silent prayer for some sort of answer to this conundrum from some sort of higher power above.

Luckily for him, the answer only need fifteen more minutes to wake up and another cup of coffee, first.

"Did Mina ever tell you I got pretty into photography a few months back?"

"I'm sure she mentioned it."

Slow on the pick-up.

"I brought my stuff with me because you guys live in sort of a good area for landscape photography," you continue on, and thankfully by now the mans eyes start to pick up and raise towards you as you speak. "I don't really do people but it doesn't seem like you're in much of a position to be all that picky."

Quietly taking another sip from your cup, you sit by and wait for the reluctant acceptance: because he's a man out of other options, and you don't really have anything better to be doing this early in the morning, either.

"Fine." Doyoung sighs, tipping his own drink all of the way back to finish it off as if downing a shot of liquor to prepare him for the morning going forward. "Just make sure I look pretty, would you?"

"Of course, darling."

Snapping a few test shots, you pull your camera down from your eye and take a look through the display to check the turn out — given, it's a bit of a rough shoot with no lighting equipment and not much else to help you along your way, but you figure with what you're getting here currently that someone far more talented than yourself be capable of fixing anything decent you get in post.

Looking upwards again and towards your subject: laid out on the white flooring of an otherwise unfurnished room that the happy couple haven't had the time to get around to just yet, Doyoung keeps his attention turned well away from you as you cycle through the photos to determine any better way that you can make this work.

You think, perhaps, that he's still a bit bashful of the circumstances.

Leaning back against his elbows and forearms, you watch him glance towards the ceiling just briefly before finally looking at you.

"Well?"

It's a little bit funny how little he wishes to be doing this right now. Karma, perhaps, for years of subtle torment.

"They look good enough," you admit with a slight nod, sounding almost surprised at the fact. "I think we can get a few good shots pretty quick and have you back in your office writing boring reports, or whatever it is that you do, in no time."

"I'd much rather be doing that." He huffs, turning his attention away again. The movement gives you an excellent shot of the angle of his jaw, however — thus, you bring your camera back up to take a few more pictures before gracing him with a reply.

"I've never met a man so dismayed by being attractive."

"You think I'm attractive?"

You bring the camera down again, a slightly annoyed but playful cock of your head to the side that silently says 'really?', because frankly, it's a stupid question. This is a fact that Doyoung knows, as evidenced by the smirk that takes his lips as a result of your reaction to it.

"It's not the 'being attractive' that's bothersome," he continues on with the thought, offering you an honest response now. "Just don't really need or particularly enjoy this kind of attention on myself. It feels bizarre, especially as someone in my line of work."

It makes sense, and snapping a few more shots, you opt out of a verbal reply and only hum of acknowledgement, instead.

"I'll be happy to have it over with, and now I know, no more books."

Without pulling up from the camera, you carry on with your direction. "Look towards me."

Head turning slowly and eyes settling deeply into your own even through the lens, Doyoung settles into his new pose — a smoldering look to him that really would have you thinking that something like this be his chosen line of profession after all, but shaking it off, you press a few more clicks of the button and check in the view finder once again for how the photos are turning out thus far.

Doyoung's gaze, however, remaining firm on you as you do.

Jacket open again and chest fully on display, you make a good effort of attempting to ignore the flesh before you. Of course, it's far from the first time that you've seen him — and really, you've seen him in far less clothing and far more intimate scenarios, but something about this, you find, doing a little bit extra for your visceral attraction to the man.

Even worse, it's about seven in the morning. Who tries to fuck their best friends husband at seven in the morning?

You do? Maybe?

Mind wandering to the thought of whether or not it's something that is also on his mind, you figure it not too far from the realm of possibility: after all, the relationship between the both of you be almost strictly a sexual one, what else is there for either of you to be fantasizing about whilst in each others company like this?

"Is it good?"

The wording is a little strange, and that's because you know it to be a question with a hidden agenda behind it. A question he often asks you while buried deep within your body, as your eyes fall to his and your camera falls away from your face just a bit, you can quite easily see the sinister curl of one corner of his lips. Knowing, playful, a man with an agenda, indeed.

"Yeah," you answer cooly, not willing to allow him the satisfaction of knowing about your growing arousal. "They look good."

It's then that one of Doyoung's hands slowly glides up and to the front of his trousers — watching on as he expertly unbuttons and unzips them all the while maintaining perfect eye contact with you — there's a part of you deep down that is pleased with the non-verbal communication between the two of you and how far that it has come, even with so much time between the last time and now.

There's also a part of you that's willing to beg to have him in your mouth right now, but you'd rather not make that one so obvious just yet.

"Why don't you come get your reward then?"

Well, so much for the 'not making it that obvious' plan.

Slowly and gently setting the camera down on the only, lone dresser in the entire room, you just as carefully shrug off the robe you had been wearing — long, loose sleeves tending to be a bit of a detriment for these sorts of activities, best to be nimble and able to do whatever it is that you need to do.

The fact that you don't know what that is yet quite possibly the most enticing part of it.

Spending more time with the man in casual settings, you find it charming as well as that much more sexy to see the way he so easily slips into that dominant role. Not that long ago flustered and shy about you catching him in the kitchen in the same open suit coat that he adorn now.

Closing the distance between you and carefully settling down onto your knees between his legs, you watch as his hand slip down and beneath the fabric that still offer coverage from your sights — palming his growing erection just under, and worse than that — still maintaining that devilish eye contact with you like nothing capable of pulling his vision from yours.

"What do you want?" He asks with a sultry groan to him.

And still maintaining that initial desire to not completely give in to his whims, you instead decide on a bit of turnaround. Biting your lip, you look him straight in the eye to deliver your reply. "What do you want?"

It does give him a bit of pause perhaps — a single eyebrow perking up at the slight bit of defiance you dangle before him, but rather than deter him, he leans into it in full.

And you had not calculated the risk of being told precisely what it is that he wants from you accurately, either.

"I want you to spit on my cock, and then I want to watch you gag on it until I come."

It's a total knockout of a response, just like that. Throat running dry and heart thumping hard in your chest at the promise of exactly that, Doyoung's eyes remain on you as he offers you nothing more than a small shrug at your inability to properly digest the information.

"You asked," He adds with a much too sly smirk.

Hand shifting to be removed from his pants, Doyoung runs his thumb over the tip of his length to gather the bit of precum that's since gathered there, and upon its exit, he whispers a simple "come here" as he extends it towards you and presses the digit between your all too accommodating lips to suck him clean. Wet and wrapping around it, you run your tongue around him and offer a gentle suction before the man hooks into the corner of your mouth with a deeply wanting groan.

"Get what you want, then."

Taking his hand back from your face, you waste little more time before hooking your own fingers into the sides of his trousers and giving them a tug — hips lifting off of the flooring for just a moment to allow for the shift — you bring the fabric down just enough to be out of the way, watching as his cock springs free and the tip of it lie against his exposed abdomen. Perching over Doyoung's hips, you take him into one hand, a few languid strokes to feel just how hard he already is before dipping your head down and taking him into your mouth with the swirl of your tongue.

Breath hitching in his throat at the feeling of you, it's one of your favorite things about sucking him off — always just a little bit on the verge of falling apart beneath you entirely as you do so.

Pulling off of him for a moment, you glance back up the length of his body to make eye contact with him once again before allowing the lewd display of saliva to fall from your puckered lips and messily onto his shaft in hand. Then, it's back to business, taking him deeper and fuller into your mouth with light suction and long, slow bobs of your head around him.

"Yeah, just like that, baby," Doyoung whispers out, head falling back to take in the feeling just briefly before bringing his gaze back up to watch the way you work him — not wanting to miss a moment of the show. "Love my cock, don't you? Can't get enough?"

Moaning around him in affirmation, the words cause you to stroke him just that much faster — enjoying the way he sounds when you have him like this.

"Think you can take it all this time?" He asks, voice slightly broken already. "Bet you practiced while we were apart, didn't you? Sucking other cock just in hopes that you can take mine that much better if you were to get the chance."

Throbbing between your legs far from dull at this point with a man never relenting in the dirty talk, you once again groan around him as you also feel yourself falling apart despite being wholly untouched thus far. You can't see him, but you feel the shift of his weight to free one of his arms for movement, followed by the familiar feeling of his fingers collecting loose strands of hair as he intertwine them into the collection of it at the back of your head.

Leverage.

There's truth to his words, though. Not so much about sucking off ever Tom, Dick and Harry in town just to practice for the inevitable resurrection of your sexual relationship with Doyoung specifically, but you had seen other men since then, and you had sucked some of their dicks.

You're a little proud of the progress made, sure.

Bringing yourself up enough that only the tip of him remain between your lips, you take a deep breath in preparation for what's to come — the gentle, careful press of his hand down against the back of your head to force more of his cock into your mouth...slowly, inch-by-inch and with no rush to have you take the entirety of him in one go, when he reaches the back of your throat you focus on steadying and relaxing yourself for him. Hissing through his teeth at the feeling of burying himself so deeply within your mouth and throat, as he ventures further, you feel the welling of tears in your eyes at the light discomfort of it.

It's not bad, and far from enough to not want to keep going — rather, the excitement of having so much of him far outweighing those things, anyway.

Slipping into your throat delicately, Doyoung instead opts for short, shallow thrusts into you for the rest of the way, and once he feels your nose against his pubic bone, he can't help the breathy moan that escapes from his lips.

It's heavenly, hearing him so desperate beneath you.

Pulling you back up and off of him slowly, the two of you look at one another — you with teary, wet eyes and swollen, red lips — you think that the darkness in his eyes deepens just that much more at the sight of you destroyed on his cock before him.

"Think you can take it again?"

"Yeah."

"Such a good girl. Go ahead then, swallow me down."

Repeating the previous motions, before your nose settles against his skin, Doyoung instead opts for slow drives of himself into your mouth — gently throat fucking you with dizzying, incoherent sounds melting from his lips as you take just about all of him inside of you like this. It takes very little time before you hear and feel the familiar notions of him reaching his peak, a few harder, deeper drives of his cock up and into your mouth through his attempt to maintain his composure that have you gagging around him ever so slightly, and just as promised.

"Fuck, you take it so well now," he all but whines, eyes screwed shut and eyebrows knitted tightly together as he shallowly bucks his hips up into your mouth to chase his release. "Wanted to earn my cum, didn't you?"

You can't grace him with an answer, and he knows it well enough — the dirty talking is for you, really, knowing the way that every word pools between your legs — an unrelenting throb there now and unknowing if you'll be offered the same release that the man under you be about to experience.

In a way, you almost don't even care if you cum.

Suddenly, Doyoung pulls your head up and off of him completely to instead replace it with his hand — quickly stroking himself to completion only to empty his load on the expanse of exposed skin along his abs and sternum with a hot, heavy, whiny vocalization.

Catching your breath for only a second, in one, fluid motion you dip your head down to lick the white-translucent fluid off of his body as his chest heaves just above where you work.

Turning your head to grant you the ability to look up at him, the two of you make eye contact once again as your tongue dips out to collect his cum. Head falling back, he lets out an exasperated moan at the sheer sight of your desire for him.

"Ride my face," he suddenly demands, hands reaching down for your arms and already pulling you up and towards him. "Now. Come on my face."

A dizzying request from him and not one you had factored into the potential possibilities, you don't bother inquiring further as you struggle to your feet and discard your garments as quickly as possible before wobbling over to him and kneeling above his face with creeping uncertainty.

Doyoung wastes no time, however, digging fingers into the flesh of your behind and pulling your soaking cunt flush against his mouth — digging his tongue firmly into your clit and offering you the much needed relief you had been hoping for. Whimpering in his grasp, he goes at you hard and fast straight from the get go in a way that has you reeling with the threat of an orgasm that you knew wouldn't be all that far off from the horizon, anyway.

"Doyoung, fuck—"

Moaning against you, the vibration tickling your sensitive nub just that much more as he quickly circles over it with far more than just expertise, you find yourself thankful for the close proximity of the wall just behind him as you fall forward slightly and find leverage against it. "Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come—"

You sound somewhat surprised by the fact, large in part because you are. Not that you anywhere near able to follow the flow of time, rather, you know that it certainly hasn't been long since having made your way up here, and already Doyoung is having you tumbling over into orgasm.

In the last moments before you cum; grinding down hard against the mans mouth as he groan up into you and fingers digging into you flesh to hold you in place — you look down ever so briefly to find his eyes — narrow, lustful, and with a job to fulfill right before you come with an embarrassingly high pitched shriek, thighs quaking around his head as you bite the tail end of your yell back and indulge in the feeling of him sucking any coherent thought that you could ever possibly have in that moment straight out of you through your pussy.

And as you wind down from the exhaustion of your early morning escapades, you shakily crawl off of him, clumsily falling to the floor next to him and heaving in the afterglow of ecstasy. The two of you enjoy the silence for just a moment before Doyoung turns his head lazily to allow his eyes to fall upon your weary form.

"Breakfast?"

Huffing out an exhausted laugh, you can't help but smile at the nonchalance of it all as you grant him a nod. "Yeah, that'd be great."

"Cool," he says, bringing himself up and to his feet to shrug off the suit jacket entirely and leaving it bunched up on the floor next to you. "You suck my dick like that again and I'll cook you a six course meal every day until Mina gets home."

"Good to know."

With your nose buried in your laptop and comfortably sat in the lavish living room with no company other than yourself, you tab away at your keyboard to answer work emails and respond to other such employment related inquiries. Approximately a week into your stay at the current residence, you find yourself quite easily settled in by now: the two of you working on your own for the majority of the day, occasionally meeting in the kitchen or the hallway as either you or Doyoung come to and from your standard whereabouts, and, if given the free time at a whim — a quickie where ever either of you wish to have the other.

The entire circumstances fundamentally erotic — your entire being there at all deeply erotic in a sense — but with a week down and more rounds under your belt than days spent there already, you can't help but find that the simplicity of domesticity already setting in, in a way.

When Mina had suggested a sort of 'fake-dating' scenario, you hadn't anticipated it being so on the nose.

Because it truly does feel as though you and Doyoung are dating: engaged in a relationship beyond just the sexual, despite being intensely sexually charged and the entire surroundings of it being build off of that. You eat together, you chat together, you shower together occasionally — for all intents and purposes, you are, as Mina had suggested, dating; in some way, shape, or form.

It's not boring, but a sense of excitement and luster has already worn off in a way that you can't help but acknowledge. Of course, you still desire the man viscerally just as you always had the very moment you began your physical relationship with him...but the fact of the matter is just that: it's different now.

Upon sending out your last email at just before four in the afternoon, you shut your laptop in tune to the sound of Doyoung treading down the upstairs hallway and making his way down the stairs. Glancing up towards him, the two of you make eye contact, giving him pause for just a second before he continues his way down to the floor level of the home.

"What do you say about ordering in tonight, I don't feel like cooking again."

Dramatically throwing yourself back along the length of the couch, you swing your arm up and across your face like a damsel in distress at the mere thought of not being personally catered to. "What ever will I do? What's the point of even being here?"

He rolls his eyes at your overacting. "I'm going to order a pizza. I'll order two so that there are leftovers for tomorrow, then I can really punish you if I have to."

"Kinky," you quip back playfully as you bring yourself back up to a sitting position on the black leather. "Then what?"

Bringing his hands to settle on his hips, Doyoung simply stares at you with his head cocked to the side.

"If you think I'm going to be your tough, hard dominant boy-toy your whole stay then sorry to disappoint, but I'm only one man, I need some rest too, you know."

Of course, the banter is part of the fun of it. Something that the two of you have always engaged in, but as of late with the comfort of living together established, a new level of it unlocked. Easier and more fluid. Where once upon a time there be perhaps more truthful venom behind comments or words, instead now rest an adoring familiarity between the new faux-couple.

"Endlessly disappointing, aren't you?" You sigh in response, unable to fully hide your grin.

"So I've been told," he's quick to admit. "But if you're good tonight then there is something you might be pleased to discuss over dinner."

An intriguing promise of what's to come, and entirely unknowing of what it is that he be referring to, you find your curiosity to most definitely be piqued. Eyebrow quirking upward at the sly comment, you're mindful of the mischievous glimmer in his eye that you know to only present itself when the man have something very particular, and particularly raunchy, at that, in mind.

As the both of you settle into the smaller living room area just next to the dining room — fireplace lightly crackling in the not too far off distance and a cheap bottle of white wine opened and set on the tiny coffee table, as the television in front of you sounds off to fill the room with sitcom chatter and laughter, you glance over to the man just next to you: sitting with legs crossed in front of him and his plate balanced onto his lap as he bite into a slice of cheap, cheese pizza. It's a sight that you come to realize in the moment that you're unfamiliar with, all things considered: a particularly raw and true level of domesticity where Doyoung exist as just some guy, in the best way possible. You realize in this moment as well, that it's times like this that are likely cause for Mina's falling in love with him. A good man, after all — and more than that, seemingly perfectly well-rounded in all ways, as well.

Even so, as the flicker of illumination dances across sharp, pretty features — round, framed glasses perched upon his nose and rather unkempt hair in the front from a hand running through it numerous times that day — the conversation mentioned earlier weighs the heaviest on your mind with promise of, well, you don't quite know yet; but you sure would like to find out.

"So," you chime, semi-awkwardly on purpose and for effect. It's enough to garner his attention already, a man not all that wrapped up in the show carrying on before him to begin with. "About that talk."

"Right," he quickly responds with a single nod, setting the food down onto the plate in front of him and bending forward to set it onto the table between the both of you. "About that. I was curious how much of this...arrangement you were looking to explore in our time together."

The inquiry brings pause, finding the wording of it slightly difficult to navigate, because what does he mean by that?

You suppose your hesitancy is telling, however — Doyoung chuckling lightly under his breath before rephrasing the question more clearly.

"I mean...the first time we started sleeping together you were interested in exploring a rather dominant and submissive power play scenario. I'm wondering if you're wanting to explore that further."

'Further,' you think, being the operative word, and yes, yes you do.

Reaching forward for your glass of wine, you take a sip before answering him confidently. "Yeah, I've thought about it. I had done some exploring this past year but—"

Hesitating to think through your words carefully, Doyoung interjects with the thought you had been leaning towards anyway, and in a way, it proves your point just that much more.

"—Haven't established that level of trust with anyone?"

"Yeah, that."

He nods, finally spinning himself in place on the couch to fully face towards you. In a way he appears particularly earnest, as if even now still vying for that level of trust necessary to engage in the even harder, darker sides of BDSM as implied.

"Then," he says a bit more seriously than you would have ever really expected. "Tell me what you want."

You suppose that as far as situations that require a more serious touch, this be at the top of his list.

It's not something that you've spent all that much time thinking about, however. No list of 'things to try' on hand or a bullet pointed note on your laptop of all of the ways in which you wish for him to have you. Rather, they be fleeting, passing moments that you find yourself fantasizing about in private, discarded just as quickly as they find themselves making way into your mind.

But you do know that they still lie embedded in there somewhere, you just have to dig them back up.

As well as relay them to him in plain, simple words. It's not only an admittance of desire, but one of confession: 'this is all of the ways I've wanted you even since then.'

You swallow down the bubbling humiliation though, knowing that if not capable of bestowing upon him precisely what it is that you want of him that he be in no position to grant it to you.

He needs to know everything, because he has to have a plan.

"Restraints," you begin, inhaling deeply after the word leaves your mouth. "Orgasm control, impact play...basically all of the same but turned up a notch."

Doyoung nods, reaching towards his own glass of wine and sipping from the rim. Then, after thinking through your words, he offers another nod of understanding.

"Okay, then here are my rules: first, the same safe wording system will remain in place, we both know it and are familiar with using it so I think that's best. Second, no renegotiation mid-scene, it makes it difficult for me to be able to have an understanding of where you are and also gives me cause to have less trust in your word—"

Pausing again and with his head tilted down towards his lap, he glances up through his eyelashes at you for explicit eye contact in that moment.

"—And if I'm going to hit you, I need to be able to trust your word of when it's just enough, or too much."

"Yeah, of course."

"Cool," he finally sighs, dropping the tough and serious exterior to once again fall back into the Just A Guy role he had previously been enjoying. Doyoung slumps to the side and against the back of the couch with a contented grin as he finishes up his thought. "Tomorrow evening, then? Doesn't have to be then—"

"No!" You nearly shout, already thrilled with the thought of all that's soon to come to you. "No, tomorrow is good, perfect."

Standing to his feet, the man reaches down to take both of your plates into hand with intention of heading towards the kitchen. "I'm going to head to bed then. Long day, tomorrow will be longer now — try to get some good rest tonight."

Needing no verbal response, you sit back comfortably against the large cushions of the couch as he begin to head towards his exit — it's then, that a sudden thought comes to mind in an instant, and before your window for negotiation truly closes, you have to put it out there, now or never.

"Oh! Doie? One more thing about the scene tomorrow?"

He hums in acknowledgment of your words, merely glancing back and over his shoulder at you in wait for what it is that you wish to add.

"When you hit me...leave your wedding band on."

Snorting through his nose with a chuckle, the man playfully shakes his head at the thought and the implications behind it — just as quick on the uptake of one of the joys of kink exploration within the confines of this arrangement.

No one is cheating on anyone, doesn't mean we can't pretend, though.

"Kinky minx," He responds coyly, dumping the dishes into the sink and disappearing into the darkness of the otherwise unlit household.

"Shall we?"

Doyoung's voice is calm and pleasant when he asks the question. There's a hint of knowing within it, a playful nuance in regards to what's to come from here on out that already has anticipation pooling between your legs in a relatively unexpected way. You were excited for tonight, of course, but a physical response as a result of him merely alluding to it not exactly something you had foreseen in your future.

You recall Mina telling you how good of a dom he is a year ago.

The evenings festivities call for a one drink maximum: a rule implemented by the man himself to ensure that the parties involved be well aware of themselves and within the grips of their own feelings and boundaries enough to ensure safe play. One drink offering plenty to take the buzz of nervousness edge off, after all.

Dinner is light. Enough to keep the both of you fed and fulfilled without weighing either of you down, especially when you can't be sure when or if you're to be gagged — and beyond that, on what, you'd rather not take the risk of throwing up all over him — at least, minimize it as much as possible.

None of this is all that new to you, though. You've played before, partaken in kink and gone to parties before. Engaged in such things with people who are not Doyoung in between then and now — but as you quietly follow him downstairs and into the basement below, you find yourself so much calmer with him that with any of your previous play partners before.

It's not a matter of poor vetting and even poorer partner choices: you've had fun, it's been safe, and everyone has left satisfied. However, there just be something special about your play partner now — a level of trust and understanding between the two of you that takes an edge of uncertainty from the back of your mind and discards it entirely.

You don't have to worry about him, not even a little bit. As a result, you don't have to worry about you, either.

"I can't believe you two have a dungeon, how cliche," You sarcastically quip as your foot lands onto the floor at the end of the stairs. 

Doyoung glances at you briefly from over his shoulder and shoots you a roll of his eyes. "It's not a dungeon, we just wanted to keep the upstairs bedrooms available for guests. We had no other plans for the basement, so—"

"—So, you turned it into a dungeon," You finish for him.

Walking over to a small, unceremonious table, Doyoung pulls out a tube of hand lotion from one of the old, brown drawers and squeezes a small dab of it into palm. "If calling it that gets you off, then by all means."

As the man settle in and begin preparing for the activities, you take it upon yourself to glance around and take in the sights. Truly, it's nothing like the fancy, mommy-porn movies: no huge rigs or handcuffs hanging from the ceiling. Rather, it's sort of just a regular room — obviously re-done since moving in to serve this purpose specifically, you take notice of the king sized bed off at the furthest end of the rather small underneath of the home — satin, royal blue sheets and a single pair of restraints hanging from one of the golden bedposts there.

"Have you ever played submissive?"

It's a question that's rattled around your brain for a while now, suppose now is as good a time as ever to sate the curiosity. Doyoung comes up from behind you so quietly that it nearly startles you with another pair of wrist binds in his grips, and as you glance back and the two of you make eye contact, he reaches out for your hand — slowly fastening one of them to your wrist before answering the question.

"If you must know, yes," He says, tightening the restraint against your skin just firm enough for a good hold, and without causing pain. "One of those...'you gotta try it once' sort of situations."

"How did that go?" You ask further as he spins you in place to face him, fastening the other half of the tan leather to you. Doyoung offers you a sly grin first, slowly stepping you backwards on your heels and towards the bed, before gently tipping you and causing you to fall flat on your back to the mattress below.

"Didn't take."

While restraints, you find, aren't typically your thing, it's a situation in which you feel comfortable with him. You question momentarily if there be any other person in the world that you would be willing to be in this current scenario with: bound and laid out against the sheets of someone's basement bed, and the answer is a quite easy and resounding 'no.'

"Recite back the safe word system," He demands, tone dropping in a way that you know this be the beginnings of the scene at hand. You watch him as he rolls up the sleeve of his white, button down shirt — more or less still dressed up from the work day just before — sort of the archetype of the CEO dominant man that while typically you don't find yourself creaming yourself for...this time, it's sort of working for you.

"Green is good to keep going, yellow to slow down and lighten up, red is full stop to the scene. If unable to speak: two taps to someone's body is effectively a yellow sign, and three is a red sign."

"Good girl," he chimes, squatting down to the edge of the bed between your legs and hooking fingers into the sweatpants you're wearing. "Scene renegotiation?"

"Only to lessen, never to strengthen."

Pulling the fabric down your legs, panties and all, you feel the rush of cool air against your flesh in a particularly stark way — your body temperature seemingly already flaring up at just the mere discussion of the rules from here on out, you find this to also be an unexpected turn out of tonight's engagements.

"Sit up," He then requests; a near impossible task for you alone given your bind. He knows this, naturally, and reaches for the center of your restraints to pull you upwards and seated just as he desires.

Cold fingers just grazing the flesh of your torso as he grabs at the hem of your shirt and brings it up over your head, it's electric — felt through what you think could be every nerve of your body with barely any physical touch at all.

A worrying trend for your resolve tonight.

With you fully disrobed, Doyoung pushes you to lie back again, dipping down into his previous position and hooking his arms under your legs to pull your bottom to the edge of the bed. It's exciting already: the anticipation of what's to come and what he will do with you — relinquishing all power and ability to be an engaging participant in your activities in a way not yet engaged in since your time arriving in the home.

It's then that he dips a single finger between your folds — the touch is delicate, barely offering you any sort of stimulation at all, and as a result, you're already keening and attempting to melt yourself into his touch. This, of course, gives him great pleasure at the sight of you already so needy and wanting for him — evidenced on his face as he looks up at you from between your legs and gives your clit the lightest feathering of a swirl with the tip of the digit present there.

"In a rush?" He asks teasingly, still circling the collection of nerves between your thighs.

A dizzying offering of almost nothing to your body despite knowing how you crave his touch.

"What do you want?" Doyoung questions as if speaking to no one in particular, finger dipping down towards your opening and shallowing pressing inward as if intending to penetrate you. "I take it you want me to fuck you open with my hand?"

With a small whimper dropping from your mouth, he hums inquisitively. "Feel my tongue on you? Taste you like you have the last cunt on earth?"

"Yes," You finally whine in reply, but the response from you garners nothing from the man in question.

Instead, and in a rather surprising turn of events, Doyoung gives you just that: carefully slipping a single finger into you, slowly fucking into you with ease as a result of the ample arousal already having pooled there. It's shallow, slow, and far from enough to get you anywhere you're wanting so desperately to go, but better than nothing — a moment later, you feel the heated waves of breath across your labia as he brings his mouth mere centimeters from your mound.

Nearly instinctually you attempt to grind yourself down and against his hand and face, but it results in little given your lack of mobility. A light chuckle offered from him as a result of your wanting, you feel him press his lips lightly against your lower ones, but only to speak.

"You think I'm going to let you come?" He questions, offering one, long, stripe of his tongue through your slit finally and giving you the warm, wet, contact that you've been silently begging for. "You still want it even though you know I won't, that's how desperate you are for me, isn't it?"

Whining out a breathy affirmation of the fact, he serves you another press of his tongue against you for what you can only figure is 'good behavior.'

"I can always make you come so quick like this, can't I? Like your pussy was made for me—" He carries on the thought, pausing long enough to drag his tongue over you languidly and pulling from you the most desperate whines each and every time. "Body made for me, isn't it? Your mouth, your throat, your cunt, your ass...all mine for the taking, aren't they?"

The moan that tears from your throat at the words is nothing sort of humiliating.

"Answer."

"Yes, they are," You force yourself to reply through a breathy, broken voice.

"I know, you're so good for me. What a perfect little toy for me to come inside and toss aside until next time, aren't you?"

You don't have a chance to respond before his mouth is attached to you, tongue digging firmly into your clit and the sound of him sucking into you resonating through the otherwise empty basement. Eyes screwing shut, you only have a second of self-awareness to realize that he really might be able to make you come in record time at this rate. Curling his fingers up into you and running his tongue across you in just the way that he knows gets you there, you whine out loudly — back coming up and off the bed as he seemingly tries to get you there already.

"Fuck, fuck—" you breathe out as your body finds itself on the precipice of orgasm, but as a man all too good at what he does; expert hands and mouth bringing you just to the brink before pulling back from you entirely and watching your body tremble at the feeling of the loss. "—Doyoung please, please please."

"And what have you done to earn it, hm?" He asks, leaning forward and over your body to take your bound hands into his grasp and sit you upright at the edge of the bed before him. Still shaking lightly from the feeling of a ruined orgasm, hair strewn about your face and eyes glazed over from the need — Doyoung looks down at you with a gentle cock of his head as if charmed by the sight of you already so fucked out with so little having taken place yet.

Hands reaching down for his belt and subsequently releasing his erection from the confines of his black trousers, you're forced to watch him lightly palm himself just in front of your face.

How familiar a sight it is.

"You know how to earn it, don't you baby?"

You nod, although it's not enough for the man before you. "Answer."

"Yes, I can earn it."

"Good girl," he says, angling the tip of his length down and to your lips, only lightly dragging across before gently tapping you with it as a signal to open your mouth for him. "Though, suppose this is a bit of a reward in and of itself, isn't it? You love my cock, isn't that right?"

With only the tip of him presented between your lips, you're able to still speak around him. A simple "I do, please let me earn it" falling from you before you're able to even register the words and the meaning behind them.

It never gets old the way this man can have you falling apart with ease.

Hand dipping to the back of your head, Doyoung pulls you forward and sheathes as much of himself inside of the warmth of your mouth as he comfortably can at first — just like the last time, there's no aim for discomfort or pushing any particular limits this time — rather, he understands yours and your abilities well enough by now to know precisely the best way to go about having you, and equally as much, allowing you to have him.

Lips firmly wrapped around him, with each pulling back of your head, you look up at him to meet eyes — narrow, dark ones staring down at you to watch the way his cock disappears inside of your body.

"Fuck, that's it baby," he whispers out as he begins to gently drive himself into your face. "Such a pretty face, just made for me to fuck."

But for as much as Doyoung knows you and your body, the same can be said for you and his — you know this sort of engagement to be his weakness, and for all of the chiding he does at your inability to hold out on him, the very same can be said for him in these situations.

Bringing his hand forward and from the back of your head, he instead grasps your jaw, prying it open forcefully so. "Open, swallow it down. Take it all."

Giving you little time to adjust, you feel him press his hips forward and as a result, begin the drive of his cock down into your throat. Gagging around him, he pulls off quickly. "Color?"

"Green."

And with that, he serves you another, direct press of his length down into your throat. Easier this time, but the sound of your heaved breaths and gurgling around him as your nose meets his flesh going straight to that place deep within him that you can tell makes him want to come at a moments notice. As a result, he pulls back and from your mouth entirely — giving you a moment to catch your breath before grabbing at your chin once again and forcing your mouth open for him.

"My little cockslut has gotten so good at that. You sound so pretty when you're gagging around my dick."

Leaning forward, he allows a small dropping of saliva to fall from his mouth and into yours before once again pressing his length between your lips and shallowly fucking your mouth with a few, quick, thrusts.

"You want my come?" He asks firmly, stepping away only enough for the tip of him to rest against your mouth.

"Yes."

And then it comes: one light, open-palmed snap of his wrist against the side of your jaw.

"I don't believe you, make me believe it."

"Yes! Yes, please come in my mouth, please let me taste you, Doie."

Tightly gripping your jaw again, he holds you in place to rub the mess of saliva and precum thoroughly around your face — so wet that it's nearly dripping from you — Doyoung smiles down at you at the sound of the pet name leaving your mouth.

Because that's when he knows you're really fucked up for him.

Another, slightly harder tap of the inside of his fingers to your jaw — it doesn't hurt and it's far from jarring in any way, but the implications of it within the scene driving you absolutely wild in the moment, you're happy you asked for this in particular.

The glimmer of his wedding ring still present on his hand, all the while.

"So nice of my wife to offer me such a compliant play-thing to use as I wish while she's gone," he says, finally dropping his pants to the floor entirely and beginning the unbuttoning of his shirt as if to soon discard it entirely. "Suppose now I get to decide which hole I want to take, don't I?"

You nod, and as a result, Doyoung lands the hardest connection of his hand to your face that he's given you thus far. This time, enough to actually cause your head to move a bit, as well as the slightest sting to the skin.

"How many times do I have to instruct you to answer? Are you already so fuck-dumb that you can't remember one, single rule?"

"No! I know it, I'm sorry!" You quickly amend with a shake of your head. "You can have anything you want from me."

"I know," he plainly responds, as if already grown tired of the discussion at hand. Simultaneously, Doyoung pushes you to the side and back against the bed, only this time pulling you up by the hips and displaying you bent over and lewdly spread open for him at the edge of the bed. "I'll take what I want, that is your purpose here, after all, isn't it?"

"It is," You quickly answer this time as to avoid punishment.

Feeling the tip of his cock pressed against your opening, you hear the man chuckle from behind you at the sight before him. "Your messy little cunt is practically dripping. Begging to be filled with me. Pathetic."

The words garner a whimper, and pathetic is correct as you feel him drag the length of his cock up and down your folds in a simulation of fucking you. Slow, concentrated drives against you, but not into you, that have you keening and attempting to push back and onto him in a way that is far beyond humiliating — a new low for you, even given your previous encounters. You don't think you've ever needed to feel him this badly, and worse than that, you know that he knows it, too.

You're thankful when he readjusts his position, feeling the tip of him pressed at your opening again followed by the smooth, easy glide of his full length into you. A dizzying feeling of being so full of him after what feels like an eternity of being denied him in so many ways, Doyoung sinks into you from behind and sits flush against your ass for only a moment before leaning forward and harshly gripping his fingers into your hair.

Followed with a hard, rough, snaps of his hips into you that has you nearly toppling forward at the momentum of it.

"You thought I was going to fuck you for you?" He breaths out, venom lacing his tone as he delivers another, harsh, thrust into you. "You're nothing but a hole for me to fuck, and come in."

Pressing your face into the mattress, the man then focus entirely on his own pleasure: chasing his release as he fucks you hard, quick, and selfishly. No concern for the proximity of your orgasm as a result of him.

The irony being, of course, that after so much lead up to this moment, you're just about there, anyway.

Stopping briefly and much to your display, Doyoung comes around to the side of you to release you of your restraints, but as he settles in behind you and sinks into you all over again, you feel him lean forward to retrieve both of your wrists and twisting them behind you — new, better leverage for him to use your body with like this.

"God, your cunt feels fucking heavenly," he groans through rough drives into you and over the sound of your pathetic, fucked-out babbling just below. "Useless bitch not good for anything but taking my cock, guess you're good for something, after all."

"Fuck, Doie—" you whine out at the culmination of words and the feeling of him relentlessly pounding you.

"Yeah? Is the little whore gonna come anyway? Even when I just try to use your body to dump my load in, it still gets you off, that's how much you love it, huh?"

He's right. This one might keep you up at night in the future.

"Yes—" you whimper breathlessly, dangling on the edge of your now inevitable release. "Yes, yes, yes, please I'm gonna come—"

"Fine," he hums, similarly close to his own peak. "Come then, want to feel you milk me when I fuck my load into your messy little pussy."

And so you do. Your orgasm ripping through your body hard and quick — shrieking loudly against the mattress as Doyoung continues to pound you through it — shaking and clawing at nothing attainable as it tears through every inch of your body. You're barely aware enough to hear him groan out from behind you as his own takes him: cock deeply buried into your walls as he unloads inside of you — cock so hard and deep that you feel the pulse and twitch with every rope of cum that he delivers to your insides.

Slowly, carefully pulling from you, listening for the way his breaths are heavy and worn from the scene having just played out to perfection, as you fall to your side to lie flat against the bed to catch your own you feel the gentle, careful dip of the mattress from just beside you as he settles in just the same.

Silence blanketing between the two of you, you inhale to speak — only to be cut off by words of his own in an entirely unsurprising and frankly, shocking way.

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

The snap question comes out before you have a second to even really mull over what it is that he could be apologizing for, because frankly, everything went on without a hitch. It was everything you had wanted and maybe even more, and now he's apologizing for it?

Arm slinging up and over his face as if to hide himself from you in a way, Doyoung sighs. "You know I don't mean that stuff right? About this being the only reason you're here? I feel kinda..."

"You're dropping right now," you interject suddenly, reaching over to take his hand into your to offer him some seemingly much needed soft, physical comfort. "What do you say we head up to that big tub you guys have in the upstairs bathroom and take a nice, cozy bath?"

With a delicate squeeze of your hand, you take it as an accepting of terms — not even bothering to dress before escaping the basement and wobbling yourselves up to the next scene on the agenda: aftercare.

"When did you know you wanted to marry Mina?"

Sat up against one end of the tub with Doyoung's back to you, you run soapy fingers through messy, black strands — nails gently grazing the flesh beneath in such a soothing way that you all but feel the man melting into you presence, he hums at the question before sighing to answer it.

"Quite early in our dating, actually," The man replies confidently, head tilting back so that you can lather him up better. "Maybe three, four months in I felt like she was going to be the woman I spent the rest of my life with. Of course, we were kids so we dated for a long time before taking the step, but I knew."

A charming side of him that you typically find yourself unfamiliar with — listening to him muse about the love of his life, your best friend, and the ease in which he does so even in the most intimate company of yourself.

"Cute," you whisper from just behind him, wetting your hands again before setting them back within his tresses. "Who knew you were such a soft romantic?"

"Hey! I have many sides to myself!"

Happy with your cleansing, you take the shower nozzle into hand and instruct him to dip his head back towards you even more to gently rinse the suds from him, and once rid of them entirely, you delicately press his head back upwards to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better."

Planting a kiss to an exposed shoulder blade, your lips linger there as if to speak directly into his skin. "Have you ever dropped like that before?"

Doyoung chuckles at the question, as if slightly humiliated by the answer as he nods his head in affirmation of it. "Yeah, Mina could tell you plenty a story about coddling me after a particularly rough dom drop."

But rather than shameful, you find it adding a new level of humanity to the man that only allows for you to appreciate him and the role that he take on just that much more.

"You did well," you offer him in solace with a squeeze of your arms that encompass him. "It was amazing. I couldn't imagine playing like that with — well, anyone who isn't you, I suppose."

Reaching to find your hand, he takes it into his and presses the back of it to his lips for a small peck.

"Good, I'm glad. I had fun, too."

After drying off and heading back down to the kitchen for a late night, before bed snack, as the both of you head into your separate directions for sleep, it crosses your mind to ask him to spend it with you.

You find in the next two weeks that the majority of the time is spent much like the first: working from the home and occasionally meeting with your live-in partner for silly activities when the time should meet and the interest strike: the occasional blowjob in the kitchen, or being eaten out against the upstairs railing of the hallway — and if time really permits, bent over the back of the couch where you typically work from. Suppose it can be chalked up to the excitement of a sort of honeymoon phase shared between the two of you, after all, this just be yet another arrangement with an end date, and if the effort is to show, then you both have every intention of getting your proverbial moneys worth.

In the midst of a particularly slow work week for you, and a much heftier one for Doyoung, you find him out and about much less — earlier so offering you the handling of his credit card to order food to the house as you see fit on account of him having little to no free time to do any of his usual cooking — you accept it with a bit of a dropped heart. Sure, there's joy in having free reign of a rather full bank account not belonging to yourself, but more than that; the enjoyment of spending time with him now cut incredibly short and on a whim.

Your relationship together has shifted. It's not necessarily just sex (although that still be a large portion of it), but rather, the two of you melding together in a way that you figure neither of you had really seen coming. Enjoying the company of each other in non-sexual settings — in fact, you come to realize that dinner be one of your favorite times of the day as you wind down from working hours and instead just chat about normal, everyday things. Goings on in the world, work, maybe even some gossip about friends — a bizarre realization, and so far into your time spent here now: you and Doyoung are friends.

Sure, friends that viscerally enjoy the body of the other, but still just friends aside from that.

Waking late one night on account of what in particular — you can't be so sure — you grab your phone from next to you to read the time: a quarter past three in the morning. Having grown accustomed to the bed in which you currently lie, you settle your head back into the pillow to once again meander off to dream land; that is, before you hear the familiar clattering of keyboard typing from down the hall.

It's not that you can't sleep through it, you most definitely can — the sound not carrying far or loud enough to disturb you all that much — rather, it's the thought that Doyoung be up still, this late at night, and to work, at that.

Kim Doyoung is many things. Workaholic high on the list, certainly.

Slipping your robe on over your shoulders like so many times before, you once again carry yourself down the hall quietly — as if meant not to awaken anyone despite being the only two people in the home — as you reach the doorway where his study reside, you listen in for the sound of the keyboard again before entering and disturbing him in full.

But instead, you're met with silence.

You know what you've heard, though, and turning into the door, you suppose you can't be all that surprised by the sight that greets you: a man slumped back in his chair, head tilted back and against the headrest, utterly unconscious as the bright, blue light of the monitor before him illuminates his handsome features.

At the very least you're happy to find him comfortably dressed for late night engagements like this — gray sweatpants and a matching gray pullover sweater with the name of the widely regarded college that he had attended years back — you take it upon yourself to step towards him and with a gentle hand pressed to his shoulder, you slowly shake him back to his senses.

"Doyoung," you whisper, an attempt to pull him back into a conscious state with as little startling as possible. "Doie, wake up."

Thankful for the ease in which he comes to, picking himself back up to sit straight and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands, Doyoung blinks hard towards the screen before glancing up and towards you. "What are you doing up?"

"I could ask the same of you," You quip back, hands into your hips like a disappointed mother figure. "Let's get you to bed, Mister."

"Mom—" he drawls, playing along with the scene, but saving his work and shutting the machine down all of the same as he stands to his feet. "I don't wanna."

You sling an arm around his waist as his finds your shoulders — realistically the man have no problem walking, of course — but you find the scene charming all of the same. As you turn to your left in an attempt to take him to his bedroom, he fights the movement, instead pushing towards the right and down the hall towards your own bedroom.

"Lemmie put you back to bed, first," Doyoung insists, still motioning that way with his body weight against you. "It's the least I can do for you saving me from the grips of Excel spreadsheets."

A bit of a charmer.

Relenting, the two of you make your way down the darkened path and back into your bedroom. He lags behind you next to your bed, nimble fingers reaching into the neckline of your robe to help remove it from your body as you once again lie yourself in bed and cozy up within the sheets — still warm from your presence just earlier in the night.

Doyoung kneels down next to you, arms crossed against the edge and chin pressed into them as he gazes up at you.

"You're the most boring man I know," you start with a breathy chuckle. "Staying up late to do spreadsheets."

"Yes, I know," He willingly admits with a pleasant cock of his head. "Do you want me carnally?"

Reaching over your own body to playfully slap his arm, you opt out of answering the asinine question. Largely due to your awareness of it being rhetorical, but also in part to the both of you knowing that yeah, obviously you do. Embarrassing.

"Get some sleep." He finally says with finality to his tone, standing to his feet with intent to leave.

You figure, now is as good a time as any.

"Actually—" you start, the word coming out a bit more meekly than you had hoped when thinking it through in your head. You suppose it's the possibility of rejection that has to reeling with this sort of lack of confidence that is relatively unfamiliar to you. Still, you push forward with the inquiry; a disservice to yourself not to. "Would you sleep with me? Like, spend the night with me?"

The question gives him pause, and as a result, has you second guessing yourself, too.

"You don't have to, I mean, I don't know if you're not allowed or just don't want to, it's just—"

"—I'm allowed to sleep with you," he interjects suddenly to cut off your anxious word-vomiting, a small smile pulling at his lips as he continues the thought. "The only rule is we can't do anything in the shared bedroom, but yeah, I can spend the night with you."

"Oh," you whisper, perhaps the largest part of you not having anticipated this response after all. "Okay."

"Is that what you want?"

"Yeah, kind of." You answer with a tiny nod.

Instead of engaging in the conversation about it any further, Doyoung takes it as an opportunity to accept your terms and disrobe for the evening: you watch him intently, taking in all of the ways that his body move as he pull the shirt up and over his head to toss it aside — toned chest that you've seen so many times before now only visible through the slivers of illumination granted by the moon through your blinds — it feels intimate in a different way this time: like normal lovers. People not involved in an 'arrangement,' people who are simply dating and might even have sex with each other because often times, that's what people who are dating and attracted to each other do. Falling asleep in one another's arms in the afterglow of it, or maybe just falling asleep in one another's arms as the grand finale of the evening together.

His pants go next, and before you have much of a chance to think further on it, you feel the man slip into your bed and under your covers as you scoot across the mattress to the other side to accommodate for his figure.

"I picked out this mattress," he proudly chimes. "Good, right?"

"No wonder I sleep so well here, thing probably costs an arm and a leg."

"Yeah, it kind of did." Doyoung chuckles, turning to his side to face you.

Silence blanketing the room, with such little light shone in you find it difficult to keep track of where he is, or what he's doing whilst beneath the sheets with you. A gentle rustling of the fabric, you can't tell what he's doing until fingertips feather across the skin of your face to brush stray strands of hair from you.

He must have better night vision than you, and with even more of a shift of his body, you're met with the feeling of warm, minty breath on your face as he dips further into you for a kiss.

You meet him eagerly, maybe even too much so with teeth lightly sinking into his bottom lip and eliciting an ever so slight groan from him at the feeling. He's happy to meet your advances, however, mirroring the motion before parting lips and pressing his tongue into yours.

Barely creating space between you, he instead opts to speak directly into your waiting mouth. "This why you asked me here? Doesn't seem like you're trying to sleep."

You had been originally, but plans do change.

Rather than offering him a verbal reply, you slip a hand down and between your bodies to wrap fingers around his length — already attentive to the stimulation in part — and pumping him gently, you revel in the way his sighs into your mouth; choked and broken groans caught in a dry throat at the feeling of you palming him so deliciously like this.

You're thankful for your night vision finally coming to you, and allowing you to take in the sight of half-lidded, wanting eyes staring back at you.

"It's late," Doyoung whispers first, a lazy reasoning as to why you shouldn't be wanting to partake in such lewd activities currently. But rather than engaging in the banter with him, you bypass it entirely with the one thing that you know will make the man putty in your hands.

Firm, long strokes of his cock in your hand, you once again bite into his lip with a breathy moan against him. "Doie—" you all but whimper into his mouth. "—please."

You get little time between the moment the word drops from your lips and when you find yourself pressed back against the mattress with him hovering over you. A grin of victory splashing across your features as you feel him tug your panties down your legs and toss them aside without much of a care, just as quickly coming back up to bring his mouth to your own with a bit more hungry intent behind it than before.

Reaching down between both of your bodies to position himself to enter you, Doyoung drags fervent, hot kisses down your jaw and to your ear that bring the temperature of your body up just that much more. A once dull throb between your legs now impossible to ignore and full of want as he rub his cock up and down your slit to spread your wetness around before attempting to penetrate you.

"You drive me crazy."

As his hips press forward and his cock begin to sink into you — with a lack of foreplay you find a particularly pleasurable burn that come along with the resistance he's met with upon entering a body not quite made to be ready to take him. Jaw hung ajar at the feeling of him prying you open slowly with shallow, timely thrusts, you exhale heavily against his face as he once again meets you eye to eye.

Seated flush between your legs, he pauses for a moment to kiss you deeply — rocking into you with little withdrawal in a way that has his pubic bone continually bumping against your clit — you whine into his mouth as he drinks it down between dips of his tongue into you.

Cock nearly fully buried inside of you at all times like this, you feel impossibly full of him as he grinds against the apex of your thighs. One hand brought down and gripping firming into your waist as if to hold you perfectly in place to take him, he feels suffocating in a whole new way that you find you've never quite experienced before: in the absence of immense dirty talk and power play — sex with Doyoung be just as intense and enveloping, all the same. A man all too in tune to the needs of your body and mind.

"Feel good?" He finally whispers against your face. You think him to be well aware of the answer already, though.

"Feel so good, so good," you whimper in an airy, stifled tone. "You feel so big."

"And you take it all perfectly."

The words send your brain buzzing, the coiling of release beginning in your abdomen as a result of the relentless pace he has set against your clit — thinking of how far, how deep his cock is buried within you a dizzying thought as he continues to rock against you with just the right rhythm that can have you sent over the edge in no time.

"I want to feel you come around me, baby. Can you do that?" Doyoung asks in a whisper against your cheek as he trails pecks of his lips across your hot skin.

Teeth pulling at your bottom lip as you try to bite back the sounds that threaten to rip from your throat as your orgasm looms on the precipice.

Nails digging into the flesh of your waist as he attempts to drag you down harder against him for more friction, it's just enough while his lips and teeth simultaneously suck into the skin of your neck to decorate you with pretty marks to send you barreling over the edge. Doyoung feels it more than anything as a hedonistic groan drops unexpectedly from his mouth at the feeling of your walls gripping down on his cock still buried well within you as you come.

A chanting whisper against the heated skin of your neck, "Fuck, that's it, just like that."

Riding you out properly through your orgasm, it's only then that the man release his grip on you: opting now for long, fluid drives of his cock into you to bring him to his own end. It doesn't take long after the feeling of you all but milking him for everything that he's worth only moments before — once again burying deep inside of you with the twitch of his length to release warm, wet, ropes of cum deep inside of your now dripping heat.

Head coming back up from your neck to gaze into your fucked-out eyes, his vision dances over your features for just a moment — taking in the sight of you before once again greeting you with a deep, adoring kiss.

Wincing from the stimulation of having just come as he drags his softening cock from you, Doyoung flops to the side of you with a heavy exhale — a hand mischievously finding itself between your legs once again to play with the mixture of cum and other such wetness left behind in the aftermath of your unplanned rendezvous.

"So," he sighs out as the tip of his middle finger drags up and against your all too sensitive clit. "Those spreadsheets, huh?"

How cruel the world is — the most exquisite cock being attached to the most insufferable man you could ever know.

As the last day at the residence finally comes around, you spend the days just prior expecting it to be bittersweet, in ways. Naturally, you're thankful for Mina's return as well as yourself reentering a life of normalcy compared to the rollercoaster of a getaway as you've spent the last few weeks — rather, you're none bitter and all sweet for all of those aforementioned reasons.

Of course, your relationship with Doyoung has reasonably shifted. A man that once only served as a mark of unappreciated and relatively unwelcomed contention, now having morphed into one of your most trusted and perhaps even in ways, adored, people in your life.

You contribute it mostly to the little things. The ins and outs of living an everyday life alongside the man — allowing to view him in a new way, and maybe even the way that Mina does — that casts him in a brand new light. Hardworking, thoughtful, and above all else: trustworthy.

Putting your care and well-being: emotionally, mentally, physically — in his hands, and not only coming out on the other end just as well as you had gone into it, but in ways, even better.

But don't tell him that, it'll go to his head.

On the last evening and after that aforementioned six course meal that you had never actually expected to come to fruition, as you find yourself comfortably seated on the loveseat in front of the television and just next to the warmth of a crackling fireplace, you gaze over the back of the cushioning: watching the man with rolled up long sleeves as he pop a last bottle of some expensive wine he got from who-knows-where as a sort of parting gift only shared between the two of you.

Two glasses in hand, Doyoung hands you one and you share a light tapping of rims before taking your first sips as he sits down next to you.

"Excited to get back home?"

Mulling over the question momentarily, you hum into the edge of the glass before taking another, small sip and setting it onto the table just in front of you.

"Yeah, I feel like I've been on vacation too long being here, it feels weird."

Chuckling, he matches your action before leaning his head against the couch to look at you. "You've been working this entire time, hardly a vacation."

"That's true."

"Imagine my surprise finding out that you do have a job that isn't simply being friends with my wife!"

Tossing your head back as if in utter disbelief that he really be bringing this joke back, you whine out your response to him. "Are you really going to do this again?"

"Have to keep things interesting still," he starts with a sly grin, reaching for your arm and lightly taking it into his hand by the wrist. "If I'm too nice to you, you won't want me viscerally anymore."

The physical touch serving as a motion to have to closer to him, you follow his lead — pushing yourself across the furniture and pressed up against him with your side. Playing mad, you choose to ignore the way his fingers feel against your skin, but harder than that: ignoring his breath against your ear as his face dips down and closer to yours.

More than aware of his ability to feel your skin raising beneath his touch, you instead make an attempt to bring attention away from it.

What's the harm in a little hard to get fun on the last night, anyway?

That is, if you can hold out long enough to make it such.

"Am I supposed to still want you after this is all over?" You ask firmly, as if none too affected by the proximity of his body to your own. "Like knowing that your wife’s best friend desires you sexually or something?"

"Sure," he admits without missing a beat. "Doesn't everyone like feeling desired?"

You opt out of responding, but your lack of one does not offer the reprieve you had hoped as he continue on with the thought.

"The taboo nature of the husband and the wife’s best friend—" he whispers into you, hand on your wrist now long since abandoning its position and moving across to your thigh.

Yes, you had worn a skirt on purpose knowing the plans for the evening. Plans to only play hard to get, after all. Not actually make it all that difficult to acquire.

"—Plus, you already admitted you still thought about it long after the first arrangement ended. Am I supposed to believe you just needed a month to get it out of your system and thus you've now grown tired of me?"

"I could go off it just fine," You continue the ruse, tone pointed and unaffected as his fingertips feather up and under the hem of the garment laid across your legs.

As the tip of his middle finger edges just up against the front of your panties, you delicately attempt to squeeze your thighs shut, only for the man to take notice and disallow it immediately.

"Spread your legs."

Of course, you do as you're told. Not yet relinquished from the grip that he has on you.

The problem lie in how electric his touch is — knowing just the right way of engaging with you physically, pressing all of the correct proverbial buttons that time and time again has to coming undone for him as quickly or as slowly as he would like, depending on the circumstances — with his hand curling into your underwear and a single digit pressing against your slit, you can just about feel the way his lips turn upward at your compliance for him even now. Until the very end.

"Is that so?" Doyoung finally says in acknowledgment of your obvious lie. Eyes thin and intent on you as you try your best to not make your want for him so damn obvious. "Well, you're going to have to, after all. I can't help but wonder, though—"

Pausing the thought as he gently penetrates you with a single finger and you subsequently melting in his grasp at the feeling of it — you know you've lost, but suppose even in that there is victory.

"—Who's going to make you come the way I do? Who's going to have you a whimpering, begging mess for them the way that I do? Who will you be able to relinquish all power and control to the way you do with me?"

You know that he's using it as dirty talk in the present moment, but you'd be lying if you said you hadn't been asking yourself the very same questions these last few evenings spent at the marital home.

Who is going to replace Doyoung in your life?

"We'll have to find you someone nice to play with," he begins again, pulling from inside of you and turning his attention to your clit with the very same finger, instead. "Well, not too nice."

'We.'

The idea that Doyoung will be by your side, aiding you in finding and vetting any future play partners because not only is his safety important to him, but your enjoyment, as well. The idea that although it brings him great pleasure to be that sole person in your life capable of bringing you to that level of sexuality, that he knows your arrangement unsustainable long term, and him not wanting you to miss out on it just because of his unavailability.

Guess you really do have to hand it to your bestie, she really landed a keeper.

As the first, small, whimper drops from your lips, the familiar feeling of Doyoung smiling against you returns again as he meets it with praise, as always. "There she is," he says, as if having been working to summon the version of you that lie dormant and waiting to fall apart for him as he see fit.

"Come here," he whispers against your ear, low and up to no good, you're sure. "Why don't you come sit on it?"

So much for playing hard to get, the promise of being full to the brim with him one last time all too enticing to play games with, Doyoung pulls his hand away quickly to shove his pants down his legs and out of the way as you bring yourself to a knelt position atop the cushions. Turning to face him, it's a sight that you think may never get old, and that you'll likely have carried with you forever should you be able to maintain it: Doyoung's slanted lean against the back of the couch in wait for you to straddle him — long, beautiful cock in hand as he lazily strokes himself in preparation to penetrate you, and eyes gazing straight up and into your own — always granting you his full and undivided attention.

Wobbling slightly as you position yourself over his thighs and gently bear down against him, the man angling his length just right for you to impale yourself upon him, as you begin your descent and enjoy the barely-there string of his stretch, Doyoung brings his other hand up to your face to pull you down and close to his own — lips just lightly meeting — as he speaks in hushed, hidden, words.

"Sit on it before my wife gets home, yeah?"

It's something that the two of you had ballparked playing with the entire time: the infidelity that not be taking place, but rather, the illusion of it. Roleplaying.

Vaguely dabbled in at the end of your first arrangement, you suppose it only fitting to close off this one, as well.

Sinking down on him slowly, you whine into his mouth at the words. Kissing you delicately at first — more teeth and tongue added to the mix with every inch of him you bury inside of your heat — as you comfortably settle down and into his lap in full, the both of you let out an exhale that neither had been aware of your holding as your eyes meet once again before resuming any movement.

"Good?"

You nod.

Lips grazing down your chin and jaw as he sucks gently into the skin just below, Doyoung barely presses his hips upwards and against you, only enough to pull a threatened hiss from your mouth at the feeling of him almost too deep inside of you.

"Gonna have to be quiet," he whispers into your skin at the reaction of feeling him. "We don't want the missus to hear, now do we?"

"God, you feel so big right now," you say, unable to help breaking character in the moment at how impossibly full you feel. The commentary pulls a breathy laugh from the man beneath you and a small shake of his head in reaction.

"I'm trying to do something new and you just want to default back to that old shit, huh?" He jokingly chastises, hands snaking around to grasp onto your hips as a silent beckoning to begin moving. "Yeah, I get it, it's big, can we move on!"

With the both of you laughing now, the mood feels a tad bit lost — perhaps the initial one, but not the whole mood entirely. Instead, it feels perfect an ending for such a long, sexually-charged, exploratory month — full of growth and understanding and...maybe even some love there, yeah.

Maybe it's not impossible that there be space in your heart for love for him, given everything. Not romantic, or platonic, or familial — but somewhere in between. All of them and none of them simultaneously.

"Fine, geez, never met a man so upset about hearing how big his dick is," You respond with playful annoyance, finally grinding your hips down and against him to garner just that right amount of friction from inside of you that has you both groaning out in tandem at the feeling.

Bringing one hand up from your lower body and making quick work of your blouse, Doyoung palming the mound of flesh that sit eye level with him as you ride him steadily — leaning forward, he wastes no time circling one of the sensitive buds with his warm, wet tongue before fully clasping around it with his mouth and continuing the motion as you fuck him from what might typically be considered for the majority of your engagements: switched positions.

Groaning into your flesh as you find the perfect rhythm for yourself — fingertips digging into the flesh of your hip as he desperately attempts to fuck up into you and match your movements, as he pulls his mouth away from you and you both make eye contact, you realize that perhaps for once you're not the one at the mercy of the other this time, and rather, it's him.

Whining out with eyes clenched shut and dropping his back down against the sofa again, it's a simple "fuck" that escapes him, and nothing else.

But you're pretty sure you know what that means, and for once, you're not even close.

"Already?" You ask, somewhat curious, but somewhat with intent to be a little bit annoying, as well. It works just as expected, eyes flashing open and at you with the most despondent expression you could have imagined.

"Don't be like that, God."

With his jaw clenched so tight you can nearly hear the sound of his teeth gritting, you bear your weight down onto him harder — taking his cock as deeply as you can before switching to full, lengthy, bounces of your hips atop him. The switch immediately has the man beneath you moaning, and with a little bit too much proverbial pep to your step, you lean down to close to distance between your mouth and his ear just as quickly as the thought comes to you.

It's not a whisper, you don't bother making it such: really, who is going to hear?

"Gonna have to be quiet, don't want the missus to hear, do we?"

"Hear what?"

The sound of a third voice feeling a bit like how time feels the seconds before a car crash happens — the sounds of tires screeching before the crunching and clanging of mangled metal — you can't even help the shriek that resounds from you as your eyes immediately pull up at glance over at the entrance to the kitchen from the doorway hall.

Throwing yourself off of Doyoung in a fit of humiliation of also due in part to feeling as though you've been caught fucking your best friends husband (for good reason, you suppose), the man only flings his arm up and over the back end to grant himself enough leverage to turn himself to look at the sight you've only just laid eyes on.

"Saved by the bell, welcome home, honey."

"You guys are so fucking weird!"

The screech coming from you, obviously. Pulling your clothing back into place hurriedly as Doyoung does the same in a much more lackadaisical fashion, you hiss towards him as if still trying to avoid allowing the missus to hear the both of your goings on. "Did you know she was coming home tonight!?"

"No," he chuckles. "But thank God she did, huh? Things were getting a little out of hand!"

With a light tap of your ass, Doyoung stands to his feet to go greet Mina — bags still in hand as she stand with a wide, adoring grin splashed across her face.

"Have fun while I was away, darling?" She asks knowing all too well the answer. Of course, Doyoung happy to play along. "She's incorrigible, my love. Not a moment spent free from her evil clutches."

"I'm sure," Mina replies, kissing him lovingly as he walks past her and into the kitchen, all the while feigning his dismay.

"Are you going to come say 'hi'?"

"Ideally if I wait here long enough I will simply melt into the couch cushion and cease to exist."

Mina rolls her eyes at the dramatics displayed by you. "You do know I already knew you were here fucking my husband all month, right? Like, it was my idea and everything?"

Sighing, you flop around on the sofa like a child throwing an uncontrollable fit. "I know! But it still feels so weird that you...saw it! Why do I feel weird and you don't?"

"Because standardized monogamy and societal assumptions and traditional versus non-traditional relationship models; I don't think you actually want me to explain to you why but — it's fine. I caught an earlier flight in, I kinda knew there was a chance I might catch you guys. I had texted him but you know how he is with his phone."

Silence. Mina sighs.

"Can you say something? Please don't melt into that loveseat it was almost ten thousand dollars."

That being the thing that has you jumping up and off of the furniture in shock and horror, you finally look up at your best friend from across the room — taking in the sight of her gentle and loving smile and in that moment, you accept this snapshot in time for everything that it is, just the same as all of the previous ones this month.

A reminder to take people at their word. To believe what they tell you if there is love between you. To have the bravery and respect to trust someone when even in the shroud of doubt — they tell you that it's okay.

And so, you run your palms over your blouse and skirt in a rushed attempt to clean yourself up ever so slightly, and with one footstep towards the woman that you've held dearest to you for so many years, you swallow down all of the nasty feelings that no one but you and the heavy weight of unrelated parties expectations cast upon you: because after all — that has nothing to do with the three of you, right here, and right now.

"Welcome home, Mina."

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

—this is part 2. part one [here].

[vvmylove]

My Time (18+)

Warnings: no ? mentions of him being mean

1.3k words mainly smut- This is prob the best thing I've written

Y/N looked at Goo in annoyance as he blabbered about money for the 4567th time that day. She was tired of his constant obsession with money and fighting, always too focused on his other interests rather than her. Despite her efforts, he never really noticed her, only seeing her as a friend on the side. Y/N had craved his attention for so long, yet the guy in front of her could not take the hint as he continued on about cash. For the past week she had spent trying to convince him to spend time with her, determined to make him listen instead of chasing money or fighting. Watching him talking about the same topics over and over again bored her. 

Goo sat across from her in his luxurious chair, the ugly leather chair he spent a fortune on. Y/N was so sick of it all, knowing she needed to distract him somehow. She had worn an outfit tighter than usual. All she had to do was flaunt what she had, leaning back in the chair as she spread her legs just a little, making herself comfortable. To her surprise, he noticed her shifting in her seat as he took a sip from the drink in his hand. If there was one thing about him, it is that he would never sit without a drink in his hand and that he does notice the little things. A sly smile spreads across his face, placing the drink down. “Is there something I am unaware of?” he snickers.

Y/N knew she had his attention at the moment, the atmosphere changing as both of their eyes were on each other. Lust clouded his eyes as he stared her down, oh how he loved women especially a woman as gorgeous as you in front of him. Thoughts of cash long forgotten as his focus was on you. Despite the fact that his focus was on her body rather than her efforts to engage with him, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of achievement. Maintaining the position that initially caught his attention, she looks away letting out a chuckle. “That you’re a dumbass.”

Goo couldn’t deny that the atmosphere between them was charged with a certain energy that he would never ignore. A surge of desire pumped through him as he stood up from his chair, walking over to her with confident strides. He leans down, placing his arms on each side of the chair Y/N sat in leaving her with no way to escape. 

Y/N held his gaze, looking up at him with a renewed sense of energy as all his attention was now on her. She brings her arms up and wraps them around his neck, bringing him closer. She could feel his breath on her lips, a smirk forming on face. He wanted to play hard to get, but why would he when the prize was right underneath him? Goo leaned in closer, his lips brushing against hers in a teasing manner. Y/N was impatient though, as she crashed her lips onto his, pulling his body on top of hers with a sense of desire so strong. Goo took the hint and slid his tongue past her lips, desperately kissing each other, roaming his hands along her body. His hands stop on the hem of her shirt, pulling away from the kiss. “Take this off, take everything off,” He demanded, pulling away from her to strip down to his boxers and sitting back on his stupidly expensive chair. Y/N wasted no time taking everything off, going over to straddle his thighs. 

Goo took a moment to admire the view in front of him, his hands snaking down from her waist to her precious little cunt. He collected some of the slick that had already formed in between her folds, the desperation in her voice evident with the little moan she let out. “That's my girl, show me how much you’ve been craving this.” He spoke in a rough tone, almost a growl.

“I want you so bad,” Y/N whined as she started to grind against his fingers, her arms finding their way back around his neck.

Goo slipped his slender fingers into her, his thumb finding and circling her clit skillfully. Y/N’s body started to tremble, the intoxicating pleasure building up inside of her. Her mind went blank as his fingers started to deliciously stretch her out. Goo pulled her into a deep kiss, picking up the pace and slipping another finger into her. “Such a good girl for me hmm?” he mocked, enjoying the view displayed in front of him. 

Y/N’s hips started stuttering as he quickened his pace, a burning sensation in her thighs from the pleasure she was receiving. He was knuckles deep, thrusting his fingers until he found the familiar spongy spot and curling his fingers into the spot. She let out a choked moan, her eyes tearing up as the knot in her stomach started to form. Goo could feel the way her walls spasmed against his fingers, her rhythm faltering. Her hands move down to his muscular biceps, nails digging into his skin as her eyes shut. “Come on baby, no one else can make you feel this good right? You can’t pay a guy better than I to do such a job. Look at you,” he says almost mockingly, teasing her. Sure, she may have not paid him to do such a thing- but it's not like he asked for money anyways. 

Her mind was fuzzy, barely registering the words coming out of his mouth. “I'm all yours,” Y/N responds desperately, pleasure washing over her as she came on his fingers, moaning his name in the process. He immediately pulls his fingers out of her, a whine escaping her mouth as she had not fully rode out her orgasm. Goo places his hand on her neck, his fingers wrapping around her throat as he pulls her in for another passionate kiss. The feeling was intoxicating, knowing that she had him all to herself- even if it was just for today. 

Y/N had no time to recover as Goo lay ahold of her hips, lifting her up to take off his boxers in one swift movement and lining himself. He easily slid her in, a mixture of the previous orgasm and her wetness lubricating her. A yelp escaped her throat as she felt the sting of his dick stretching her. While inside of her, he flipped her over on the couch, in full control as he gripped onto her hips and thrusting like an animal. His grip was sure to leave bruises and his thrusts rough and brutal.

All Y/N could do was moan in pleasure, her grip tightening on his shoulder. Her eyes were still shut, but she could feel the menacing stare of Goo piercing into her. She could sense how aroused he had become, enjoying the way her face scrunched up and eyes rolling to the back of her head, as his dick started twitching inside of her. She had always thought Goo would last longer- but who was she to judge when she was also close to her own climax once again. His movements became erratic, leaning in to press his body against hers and lowly moaning into her ear. He chased his own release rather than hers, as he started to pound into her vigorously. “Goo ‘ts- slow down-” Y/N whimpered, but his ears fell deaf to her pleas. 

That familiar feeling crashed down on Y/N, her orgasm coating his dick but he kept going, overstimulating her. Y/N’s body twitched underneath him as his pounding did not seem to slow at all. Her nails dug into his skin, clawing his back as her whimpering became loud. “You can take this, slut. Asking for me and yet you couldn’t handle it,” he growled into her ear. And after a few more thrusts, he finally came inside her. 

----

did you guys miss me or not yet LMAO. I know I dont write often so I hope you enjoy this.

[marvelobsessed134]

I’m not that innocent

A/n: Set around the events of Iron Man 2. Instead for Natasha spying on Tony, you will take her place. (Love Nat tho don’t get me wrong). This has been sitting in my drafts for *ehem* about 500 years but here it is :)

Warnings: smut, blowjobs, getting caught (not sexually), degradation, reader goes by a undercover name for a short amount of time, reader doesn’t get to cum lol, and I think that’s it let me know if I forgot anything.

Summary: Tony catches onto your act

This mission was simple enough. Go undercover as Tony Stark’s assistant to collect information on him for Nick Fury. Originally your friend Natasha was supposed to go on this mission but unfortunately she got sick with the flu so Fury asked you to take over.

You were nervous since Tony is a powerful CEO, literally Iron Man, and he’s mega hot. But you knew you had to set aside your personal feelings to successfully get this mission done. The CEO was obviously flirty with you, and you couldn’t help but be a little flustered. Everything was going according to plan until one day.

You were caught bent over in his office, looking through one of his file drawers when you heard a door open, close and lock. A grunt filled the room. You quickly looked up to see non other than your target. Standing there like a deer in the headlights, you just stared back at the older (and albeit larger) man.

“What do you think you’re doing Missy?” Tony asked as he slowly started to stalk towards you. “Just looking for these files that Pepper wanted.” You tried to easily make up a lie.

“That’s interesting because Pepper left early today.” Ah, shit. You are so cooked.

“Oh! Um, sorry must’ve slipped my mind um-“

“What were you doing sifting through my private files?”

Quick, Y/n, say something! Your mind shouted at you. But really, what excuse were you supposed to use now? Especially since he called your bullshit on your first one. Without even having to say anything, Tony spoke up, “I have a feeling you’re not really an assistant. You work for SHIELD is that right?” Okay, how the fuck did he get that spot on?

It must’ve been written all over your face because he said, “Yeah, I’ve had an inkling for awhile. I bet your name isn’t really Holly Brooks. What’s your real one?”

You were too scared and stunned to speak and so the raven haired man lifted your chin with his index finger and said in a lower tone, “I said, what is your real name?”

You gulped, “Y/n. Y/n L/n.”

“That name suits you far better than Holly does. And because you’re so pretty, I’ll let you out of this office and I can forget you ever did anything.” You looked at him with a surprised but hopeful expression.

“But you’re gonna have to earn it, sweetheart.”

“Earn it? How?” You had an idea of what this “earning” would entail and it made your panties damp.

“I think you know what I want.” He said cockily before pushing the file drawer closed and walking to his desk chair before sitting down in a leaning position. “Get on your knees pretty girl.” You were quick to obey, getting on your knees as you looked at him with doe eyes.

“You gonna undo my pants or what? Are too much of a dumb spy to not know how to suck cock?” His degrading words sent you spiraling and you let out a quiet, “Sorry sir.” Before buckling his belt and pulling his pants and boxers down allowing his large cock to spring free. Your eyes widened at the size and the tip already leaking of precum. You did wear a revealing outfit today, a white blouse with the first three buttons undone to show your black lacy bra, and a shirt black pencil skirt with just your matching panties under it. Maybe you were waiting for this moment…

You took his cock in your hand and began to jerk him off before taking the tip in your mouth and sinking down his length. “Oh fuck.” Tony hissed as you began to suck him off, bobbing your head up and down and jerking off whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth. The older man gripped your hair roughly and started to control your movements, using your mouth as his own personal fleshlight.

“Such a slut, you like this don’t you? I know you’ve been waiting for this moment ever since I saw you staring at me a couple times with those fuck me eyes.” He groaned out, enjoying the way tears filled your eyes as you helplessly sat there on your knees being used by him.

“Who knew you were such a good cocksucker? I’m gonna have to keep you around.” His words made your brain short circuit and encouraged you to lick him and help him get to his finish while he was using your mouth.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum. You better take it all or I swear to god-“ The CEO cut himself off when he released his seed into your mouth and down your throat, you swallowed it all and he pulled you off his dick, leaning your head back to look at you. Your mascara was messed up, your face was wet from tears, and your eyes were blissed out.

“Such a pretty girl. Could’ve treated you real nice, taken you out to dinner before I take you home and destroy that little cunt. Too bad you have to be a whore.” His tone was so condescending and somehow that made it better.

“Get up.” Tony commanded and let go of your hair. You stood up and watched him rise as well, taking his blazer jacket off and loosening his tie before unbuttoning his shirt and fully getting rid of his pants. He grabbed you and pushed you against the side of his desk, kissing you hungrily. You kissed him back, hands wandering his sculpted body like it was the best thing you’ve ever put your hands on.

The raven haired man ripped your white shirt open and roughly pulled the cups of your bra down to expose your breasts, letting them pop out effortlessly. He tweaked and played with your nipples, spitting on them, sucking them, making you moan and squeal in the overwhelming sensation.

Then he pulled your skirt up roughly, and cupped your clothed core, “So fucking wet. Just from sucking my dick? Or was it being naughty and getting caught doing something you shouldn’t have been doing? Which is it?”

“Both.” You answered obediently and honestly.

“Fucking slut.” He huffed before ripping your panties off which caused you to gasp but you didn’t have a chance to open your mouth when he turned you around and bent you over as if you were nothing.

He slapped your ass once, twice, three times before lining up his cock to your dripping entrance. As he gripped your hips he slowly pushed in making the two of you moan. Oh god, you thought to yourself, his employees can probably hear this. They think you’re just another one of his conquests. In way, you are.

“Oh fuck! So fucking tight!” Tony growled as he began to thrust and fuck into you faster and harder slapping your ass occasionally. “Such a bad girl, thinking you can tease me all day, make me hard in meetings, just to try and fucking spy on me,” he scoffs, as if the whole situation was pathetic, “but now I have my cock deep your pussy so, at least one of us is winning.” He continued to fuck you senseless, your hands gripping the edge of the desk. You couldn’t hide your moans and cries as the CEO repeatedly hit your g spot.

“Oh god! I’m gonna cum!” You cried.

“Yeah? Do you think you deserve it? After all you did?” Tony grunted.

“Yes! Please let me cum! I’ve been such a good girl so far!” Your cries and pleads were pathetic. You were pathetic, Tony thought. And god was he having the time of his life.

He felt himself getting closer and closer to edge and said, “Yeah, I don’t think so.” And pulled out of you before shooting his cum on your ass.

You whined at the loss of contact and orgasm making him laugh and say, “If you want to cum, you have to let me take you out to dinner. And get rid of any files you might have stolen from me digital and physical copies.