#however after that i am not going to be using that name for her any longer

[hellenhighwater]

Whilst browsing my dash I came upon a couple of posts of yours. One being the citrus garland one, and the other being the completed pepper juice to the eye post. I've wanted to do citrus garlands for *years* but I am allergic to citrus. Only upon seeing your post did I realize that I should be fine if I wear gloves.

Now to the second post and my reason for being here. Forgive me for being a bit long-winded, I promise it goes somewhere. I am the director for the elementary DnD after school club. I had intended to run a wizard themed game, but multiple things got in the way and I was unable to get any of those ideas off the ground. However, my students did come up with what their wands were going to look like. And so I have a new quest: make wands for my kids. I have the wands themselves already made, and today I picked up things to make the wands unique (paint, gems, clay, etc.) But upon seeing your post about making the big batches of stuff to give away as gifts I went, "Ooh, I want to do that!" But I am no good in the kitchen so I turned to Pinterest for potential ideas. I saw many tutorials on how to make tiny potion bottles, and reached out to a friend who also hoards crafts like a dragon. I sought for her to make me stop, but truly I wanted permission to go for it. She suggested that I go all in and make a jar of homemade spice blend, decorate it with witchy stuff, throw in some fake potions, and make a whole gift box for the holidays.

So yeah, I guess I'm making wizard boxes now.

You should be able to use the orange drying method on most fruits, for what it's worth (persimmons, especially, give a very vibrant orange color, though they are still citrus) including apples and pears. So if the gloves don't do the trick, maybe try a different fruit entirely?

From the depths of my tiny bottles drawer: a handful of spell component jars, made for a campaign that's years ago now!

Spice mixes are fun, but because they generally go into hot beverages, maybe not the best option for elementary schoolers. Instead, may I suggest "mystery" powdered drink mixes, re-packaged into tiny potion bottles like the two above? You could label them and have a pitcher of water and cups with each character's name at the table, and let players dump the powder into their cup and drink whatever it is, either when they use a potion or as a spell component. (Small cups just larger than a shot glass may be preferred to stave off constant pee breaks.) You could also mix in festive sprinkles or food-safe luster dust for visual texture; a little extra sugar in most powdered mixes won't be highly noticeable.

But I do love the idea of a little wizard goodie box to take home! That sounds like a super fun campaign; I hope they enjoy it.

[writingblogsandothers]

The Chosen One

Part 2

Writer's Note: Thank you so much to everyone for the love and support on the first instalment of this story. I really wasn't expecting any sort of reception, so all and any feedback is greatly appreciated. There will be more parts to this ever-twisting story, so keep your eyes peeled! Sending all the love X

Warnings: Mild Taunting/Teasing // Mild Fear (nothing descriptive)

Use of She/Her/Lady - Female Pronouns

Part 1

Dark corridors paved the way towards what she could only assume were her new living quarters. Aurelia was cornered by four guards; two front and behind. There was no use in trying to make a run, she decided to accept her fate and trust that the gods would keep her safe and right. The corridors were smoothly paved, the largest tiles she had ever seen in her life. Lined with only the best forms of lighting available in the lands at the time, she could see the corridor stretch and bend for what seemed like miles. Gods, she felt like she had walked to the end of Rome and back already. The guards came to an abrupt stop, which caused Aurelia to walk right into the back of them. She apologised profusely to which she received, “Ma’am please accept my apology for stopping so abruptly. I will ensure it does not happen again.” Aurelia steps back in shock. What happened to these guards who were so ruthless, who now suddenly were so appeasing, and dare she think kind, courteous? Breaking her from her thoughts, the commander of the group announced “Lady Aurelia, your quarters.” He opened the heavy wooden door, and in she walked.

Space. Light. Beautiful scent. Grandeur. Aurelia couldn’t believe her eyes, her breath was genuinely taken away. A young lady stood to the far right side of the room, with a kind look upon her face. “Lady Aurelia, welcome to your chambers. You will find your dressing room to the left, your living quarters to this door on your right, bedchamber right down this hallway,” pointing to her left, “and your bathroom shortly after.” Aurelia can only nod, the young lady notices her hesitance and continues, “My name is Alba. I am to be your servant. Anything you desire my lady, I will try my best to fetch for you. There is another, Camilla, however she is engaged with other palace matters. You will meet her shortly.” Aurelia stepped further into the room to acknowledge the grandeur of the hall. The curtains fell from the ceilings, which seemed to stand at about 20ft tall. The floors, appeared to be marble and glistened in the sun. The smell, of sweet lavender filled the air. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath and thought of home. Ah, home. She thought of her mother and her father, and her two brothers. Worried for their wellbeing and worried for their concern of her. Again, her thoughts interrupted by Alba, “Lady Aurelia, may I recommend seeing to bathe and change into something else. Emperor Geta has requested your presence at this evening’s dinner gala in a bid to celebrate your triumphant news. No doubt he will wish to see you well.” Finally, she speaks, “Yes, that sounds lovely.”

The bath was decorated in gold embellishment, with rose petals littering the water. The water was milky with comforting salts and had a beautiful aroma. Aurelia had never known of such graces. Alba was going to assist her with disrobing; however, Aurelia asked her kindly if she could bathe on her own. Alba reluctantly agreed, stating that she wishes for Aurelia to not lift a finger, to which Aurelia laughs stating, “Alba, I appreciate your diligence however, where I am from, this washing ceremony is of great luxury and a privilege to do so myself. I thank you for your attentiveness.” Alba nods, “As you wish my lady. I am just outside should you need me.” Alba gently closes the door behind her, and Aurelia makes her way over to the huge mirror. She took in her appearance one last time, no doubt the Emperor had some grand plans for a great makeover for her to complete to be worthy to stand next to him. She picked at her plain tunic and looked into her own eyes. She was pretty. Her eyes, piercing blue could be mistaken for a bright summer’s day. Her hair a dusty brown verging on dark, dirty blonde. She certainly wasn’t skinny, the gods had blessed her with sufficient curving to her body to make her shapely. She just prayed that Geta didn’t regret his decision and saw something in her that she clearly didn’t. Dusting herself off, she disrobed and launched into the temperate bath, sighing in relief – what a treat for her heavy, weary bones.

Once she was ready, she made her way to the hall, where Alba met her to bring her to her dressing room. Upon entering, the entire room was filled wall to wall with every item of clothing a body could ever desire, every type of colour, shape, length. There was an entire section dedicated to accessories, as well as a section for footwear. Aurelia couldn’t believe her eyes. “Lady Aurelia, Empero-”, Alba begins but is interrupted by Aurelia, “Please just call me Aurelia.” Alba nods, “Aurelia, Emperor Geta has handpicked your clothing for the dinner this evening, including your accessories.” Alba runs to fetch the items. She hangs a beautiful baby pink robe, adorned with light gold embellishment with fine rope dangling from the waist and arm. She lays out a pair of gold sandals, as well as golden chain earrings, and a gold choker. Alba ushers Aurelia to come closer and begins to dress her assignment. Once all is on, she places her hand on Aurelia’s back to send her to the dressing chair, where she begins to work on her hair. She ties tiny braids on either side and brings them together to form a crown-esque look around her head. Alba applied face cream and a light blush to Aurelia’s soft cheeks, as well as concentrate perfume to all her pressure points. Aurelia admires herself in the mirror once Alba has finished her handiwork. She was taken-a-back. This was the first she had ever seen herself dressed to such a degree. Alba stepped back and sighed, “Aurelia, you really are quite beautiful.” Aurelia blushed in response, and told her “Alba, please. The work was all your doing. I should be thanking you for your kindest efforts!” Alba let out a mild chuckle, and ushers her to the door, “Let us leave and join your betrothed, we do not wish to keep him waiting.”

Aurelia entered the banqueting hall and sees everyone already seated. She stalled. Geta looks up, Aurelia could almost swear she saw a look of sheer surprise before his usual cloud of animosity overtook, he announced, “Ah, here she is… finally! Sit woman so we can begin our festivities.” She hurriedly made her way to the spare seat next to Geta. He appeared to stare her up and down before discreetly whispering, “Everything to your taste so far?” Aurelia, mouth dry, replied “Yes, my Emperor, everything and more.” In a half snuff, he replied “And the dress? Gold appears to be your calling card.” Looking down she stated, “Yes, Sire it is everything I could have wished for. Gods have not seen more beautiful clothing. Thank you.” Geta replied with a short “hm” before clinking his glass;

“People, dear Brother, Mater. I present to you all, my soon to be wife, Aurelia. We must plan efficiently as we are to be betrothed this day week. Feast in celebration, praise Rome!”

Everyone lifted their glasses in cheers, including Aurelia, who attempted to clink with Geta. Their hands brushed and she wore she felt some sort of electricity pulsing through her. She caught sight of Geta’s features and saw he must have felt something also. With a clear of his throat, he announces, “Begin!”. He sits promptly in his chair, while servants begin to start their rounds of ensuring wine glasses were flowing and plates full. In all of the rush, Aurelia did not notice who sat to her right was none other than Caracalla. She felt a tap on her shoulder when she was met by his brightly painted face. When she turned to face him, she could feel Geta’s stare into her shoulder blades. “So then Aurelia, I take it you have accustomed yourself to the delights the palace has to offer.” She began to speak, but was cut off by Caracalla again, “I trust my brother has told you of his plans with you.”

“Excuse me?”

“The plans? Geta! Gods, please keep your dog up to date. Well, you see, we share everything. We share a mother, kindly. We share a home, spectacular. We even share our title, gracious. So, what’s one more to add but to share a lover? You.”

Aurelia could have fainted on the spot. Geta was crass and he was cutting, but Caracalla was on another level.

“I-I-I don’t understand?”

“Okay, allow me to spell it out for you. My brother will have you say 4 nights, and I 3? Oh it truly will be-”

“Caracalla, enough of your taunting and teasing. Aurelia, take no heed. He is merely trying to make a fool of you”

“Brother! Allow me to play with your new toy. It is exhausting being so boring all the time, must we rid ourselves of any fun?!”

Aurelia feels like a child caught in crossfire. Relieved in a sense that Caracalla was joking, but feeling increasingly uneasy as she can feel Geta becoming annoyed.

“Caracalla, enough.”

“Brother, here you are ripping ourselves of our pleasures.” Caracalla rises from his chair to meet his brother’s gaze. “We could see to make this one really squirm. She’s so pathetic, she would just take it all and say nothing. We could really go to to-”

“ENOUGH! Brother, apologise to her immediately.” Geta was enraged. The hall came to silence, “NOW CARACALLA!” Veins popped out of the Emperor’s neck, with his face flushing a fiery red.

Caracalla made his way back to his seat, sniggering. The hall refilling with sound once more.

 “Who would have known love could make you go so limp, brother.” He teased under his breath.

Geta’s gaze never lifted from Caracalla’s head, waiting for him to apologise. Leaning in, Caracalla began “Forgive me Aurelia, I was such a bad boy. I didn’t mean any of it.” clearly telling that his apology was as insincere as they come.

Aurelia lifted her head, and smiled ignoring the sarcasm of it all, “All is well Emperor Caracalla, thank you for your kindness.”

Geta shifted to sit in his seat, while Aurelia turned and mouthed a small “Thank you” to him. He curtly nodded his head and returned to his wine glass. Caracalla leaned over to Aurelia, “Just because he stopped me this time, doesn’t mean I won’t try again.” Aurelia stiffened. There really was something so very, very sinister about Caracalla. What had she ever done to deserve this torment? She returned to drinking her wine as per her betrothed and took in the scenes before her, wishing the evening would end so she could retire to her chambers.

“Would you like introductions?” Geta asked, not daring look at her, but startling Aurelia. “Please?” She asked, wanting to know more about her new life.

“Lady on the end? That’s Lucilla. Her brother was the great Commodus. He was brutally slain in the Colosseum. A great Emperor of his time. She may do well to speak with you. Pass on some knowledge.” Aurelia nods.

“Gentleman next to her? That’s Marcus Acacius. Great commander and army chief of Rome. A warrior on the battlefield. Continually makes triumphant wins for our empire. A true blood of Roman ethos. Also, Lucilla’s lover – if you could call it that.”

With a touch of confidence, Aurelia said, “I like his baldric.” Geta looks at her intently, “Yes, it is rather nice, isn’t it?”

“Next to him, is Senator Gracchus. One of the leads of the Senate – in other words, a right pain in my backside.” Aurelia lets a giggle escape, but quickly sobers up. “My Emperor, forgive me, I apologise I did not intend to laugh.” Geta just smirks down at her and continues on with his explanations.

Whilst she couldn’t pinpoint, she felt comfort in Geta’s explanations. His dulcet tones when he spoke seemed to calm her nerves ever so slightly. She didn’t want to admit it, but she felt in her bones that potentially this may not have been the worst outcome for her life.

However, what was to lie ahead, was anyone’s guess…

Part 3

[travelers-of-the-multiverse]

Reyna had figured Tangle would try something like this. What she did not expect was her taking Duo along. That's actually hilarious, and she ends up giggling over it.

"Hehehe, funny enough, she is actually following your orders. She's training with Duo by taking him on an excursion into a new world. No better teacher than new experiences after all." She points out. She then takes a breath and adopts a serious look.

"However, if you are going to be with us, there will be rules. Rule 1: you are not to wander off on your own. You remain with the group, and especially Duo, at all times. Rule 2: You are not to attempt any pranks. Bothering my civilians and disturbing the peace will result in fines. And repeated offenses bring increased consequences. And Rule 3: You are not allowed to intervene in anything without my say so. No heroics, no butting in, no being nosey. Follow these rules, understood?" She states, before turning to Duo.

"I apologize you got dragged along by Tangle, but I am happy to meet you Duo. My name is Reyna, and I welcome you all to Arx." She says, gesturing around.

The area they're in is a massive hub. It's like a train station, only instead of trains, it's full of portals to other lands. One leads to a place called the City of the Houses, showing a large sprawling city in the midst of a desert. Another shows a strange island with oranges grown on it called Blood Moon Island. Others show more normal locales, but varied in their environments all the same.

In addition, there were many different people, like humans and lizards. But there was also what appeared to be elves, dwarves, orcs, imps and...undead skeletons walking around. Indeed, skeletons of each of the aforementioned species were animated and chatting with others like it was nothing strange.

Reyna could see Tangle was upset. It made sense, she knew how excitable the lemur Mobian was. But she also knew that excitement could get her into danger unnecessarily. She hears the grumbling from her and shakes her head, sighing.

"You're not being left behind. You just have other tasks you need to focus on." She says before smiling. "If you do good with Duo, I'll make sure you get you something cool, okay?" She offers as a compromise. It might at least placate her for now. Because she's worried that the lemur might try to sneak along.

She then nods to Lanolin and signs to Whisper. ' ' Good to meet you. I look forward to showing you and Lanolin my world. ' ' With that, she then turns around and heads out the door of the barracks. When outside, and makes sure nobody is in the way, she creates a portal to her world. It was leading to some sort of hub area they could see on the other side.

"Let's go!" She says and heads through.

[misssakuramochi]

A SENKU x READER DRABBLE

Synopsis: Normally, you're perfectly happy to idle away at Senku's side as something of an assistant, helping wherever he might need you. It's not until a few hard-hitting comments by the campfire that you start to think you might be overcrowding your favourite scientist.

Requested by: A Lovely Anonymous Requester

Request: 'I am sorry I am distrubing you but do you open for request now? I apologize if Iam impolite but if yes, can I request drabble of senku x reader (dr.stone) where reader is a clingy person who follow Senku everywhere and do things Senku ask that are within her ability. Reader love language is physical touch though doesn't show it to Senku because afraid of annoying him. Basically , How do you think Senku will react if Reader suddenly doesn't cling to him anymore because afraid of annoying him.'

Age Rating: N/A

Warnings: Topics of insecurity and self-doubt

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

There was no way to sugar coat it, or any more flattering way to splice it; you were, for better or for worse, clingy. You knew it - Senku knew it - everyone knew it. It wasn’t a secret you exactly tried to keep hidden. Mindful as you tried to be of others social energy and where it might not align with yours, you couldn’t help but find your days more enjoyable when you had those you cared for at your side to enjoy them with you. It wasn’t always romantic - you tended to cling to your friends, too, often finding yourself craving the company of some manner of companion over the entertainment of your own thoughts. Of course, that wasn’t to say it was entirely unromantic either. Once the spark of attraction was lit, you couldn’t help but crave the attention of the person who interested you most over that of anyone else. So, once you had finally realized just how much you had come to like Senku, you had begun to find it hard to keep yourself apart from him.

Very much contrary to yourself, Senku wasn’t a person for such sentiments. He had a goal in mind, and if he wanted to finish it in time to see it come to fruition he had a lot to get done. For better or for worse he was level-headed, practically minded, and extremely logical. If spending time with someone would take away from his goals, he wasn’t going to be inclined to do it nearly so often, enjoy their company or not.

Drawbacks as they may have had, the machinations of Senku’s mind were something you’d come to love about him. His over-logical, straightforward responses often triggering fondness in your chest where others may have faltered under his blunt-faced words. Respect his nature as you might, though, none of that stopped you from wanting to spend time with him. So, you resolved ever-simply to make yourself useful.

It wasn’t as though that was a particularly tedious goal for you to start. It had always been important to you to be useful, to help the people you cared for however you might be able to. After the world’s descent into stone it was more important now than ever to work together, anyway, so helping Senku rebuild what was lost hardly seemed to be any sort of burden.

Before long you’d earned yourself the honorary title of Senku’s loyal assistant. Though it was a name first given to you in jest by Gen, who’d opted to poke a little fun at you for your ever-obvious feelings for your mad scientist of a leader (and he had been chastised rather quickly by Senku for it) it hadn’t taken too many more days of you following around after Senku to help with whatever work he happened to find for himself for the nickname to catch on. 

It had embarrassed you at first, a little, to be called out so bluntly for the way you followed Senku about, admittedly a bit like a lost puppy. But, behind the teasing words were kind smiles and supportive friends, and soon you’d settled into the moniker. Once you’d begun to take the jabs with teasing pride Senku’s disdain for them all but seemed to disappear, the joke becoming commonplace.

A loud voice pulled you from your reminiscence and a slight inclination of your head brought Yo into view, arms waving enthusiastically above his head as he beckoned you to join the group he sat with at the fireside.

“Yo! It’s [Name]! Rare to see you out of the lab. Senku finally pass out on his paperwork?” The bellowing laughter that came to follow would have told you Yo was drunk even without the wafting smell of stone-age alcohol that coated him like overapplied cologne, hitting you like a wall as you came closer. Still, rambunctious as he got, he wasn’t… bad, exactly. So, even as a bulky arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you into a sloppy, sideways hug, you just gave Yo an awkward smile.

“Oh, no, he just told me I should take a break. We’ve been working since lunch so I thought maybe I’d bring him someth--”

“Ahhh, that’s rough!” Yo’s sudden exclamation took you by surprise, especially as one dramatic arm (the one that wasn’t still holding you in a drunken embrace) raised to hold his brow, lips downturned in a deep frown, “No wonder you came to grab a drink, eh? You! Go get them a double.” Though you initially met Yo’s apparent sympathy with blank-eyed confusion, the solemn nods of the others around the fire had your brow slowly curving in concern. While the agreement of Yo’s men was questionable, even Magma and Mantle were nodding along as if witnessing some unspoken tragedy that you, despite being the star of, had yet to be informed about.

“Can’t say I blame him though. A man needs some space every now and again.” Magma’s shrug, heavy but dismissive as he threw a clean-gnawed bone into the fire, put together the missing pieces for you.

“Hey, don’t feel bad. Don’t get me wrong, Senku’s a good guy but he’s like. Weird, you know? Here, don’t beat yourself up.” Though Yo seemed to pick up on your shift in mood as your face fell, and you knew he was well intentioned as he pushed the drink he’d had one of his subordinates fetch you towards your face, but the acidic smell of alcohol against your nose burned like insult on top of injury, and as your mind swirled in new-found paranoias you found your feet moving, quickly untangling from Yo’s light grip as you found yourself needing to be anywhere else.

“Um, sorry I’m not really thirsty. I have something I need to take care of, so…” Polite as ever you tried not to trip over yourself as you made your exit, struggling to keep your voice even over the lump aching in your throat. Too distracted to catch the way Yo turned to chastise Magma, you found your thoughts all-encompassing, your walk back to the small hut that served as your sleeping quarters a blur of whirling emotion and the strained effort to hide it.

You had been trying, for a long time, to tell yourself that you weren’t a bother. There were others in the village who were stronger than you, smarter than you, more dexterous and more inventive. But, you had always told yourself that none of that mattered. Maybe you couldn’t be as intelligent and persistent as Senku and his unwavering spirit; maybe you couldn’t be as quick to learn and improvise as Chrome; maybe you couldn’t be as fast as Kohaku, as strong as Magma, as charismatic as Gen, but if you could just be useful, it didn’t matter. If you could just help everyone, anyone, in whatever way you could, you had told yourself that that would be enough. But, maybe you were a liar. Maybe all of that, all of those thoughts, were nothing more than an elaborate way to free yourself of the guilt of trying to steal all of Senku’s time away for yourself; of being deeply, whole-heartedly selfish. Were you even trying to help him, anyone else, at all? Or did it just benefit you?

It would be those thoughts that kept you paralyzed for the next week. Each temptation to find Senku, to check in on his progress or see if he might be in need of a hand, was met with the icy thought that he may very well prefer that you didn’t. Hesitation held a cold grip on your heart, squeezing when you pictured the confrontation. If you asked Senku if you were a bother, you knew he wouldn’t lie to you. While Senku’s honesty usually made you feel safe, right now you couldn’t help but admit that it scared you. And so, you found yourself spending your days shying away from the lab you’d spent the last several months in, time spent with the others keeping you sated and perhaps sane as they drove away the chattering demons of self-doubt. Living to keep the demons at bay led you into a pattern of monotony, empty-eyed and unenthused as you painted on a smile you knew wasn’t as convincing as you wanted it to be. Still, it was better than being a burden.

It was the final evening after your week of reclusion that you finally felt something other than cold emptiness and choking depression; hysterical terror. Though, this stint of horror was blessedly short lived.

When the end of your work days came you had, as of late, found yourself longing for the thoughtless bliss of sleep almost desperately. Shrugging free of your clothes as you walked into the mud and straw building you’d come to call home you’d drop into a bed of straw and wait for the darkness to come. It had become such a standard routine that, when it was broken, you thought yourself viable to have a heart attack. Stepping into a dark home and hanging the leather overcoat that kept you warm through the change of seasons and seeing movement in the dark would have been enough to set you on edge; the lighting of your bedside candle from across the room made you scream.

“Wh-- hey, it’s me! Calm down!” Standing at the opposite end of your hut, illuminated now in the flickering orange of candlelight, Senku had the audacity to look annoyed by your reaction to his break-in. As you stared at his familiar, flat expression you found your fear begin to ebb - only for it to flow back as your eyes caught the shadow cast on the wall. In the unsteady light of a tiny flame his hair swirled in angry shadows behind him, limbs overlong and twitching; Senku, and the version of him you’d been so afraid to face. It didn’t look like he was going to let you run anymore, either.

“What are you doing in my room?” Senku’s frown only dipped as you posed your question, eyes locking with yours with a stern hardness that told you he wasn’t here to play games with you.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Seeing you open your mouth to protest Senku raised and hand and continued, not giving you the opportunity to defend yourself; he didn’t want to waste time with the argument, “You’ve spent approximately 10 hours each day in the science lab working on projects with me each month up until last week - when you stopped coming altogether. You also haven’t been to any of the places you normally go, which means you’re avoiding whoever might look for you there.” Senku’s eyes dared you to challenge him, crossed arms speaking of his rigidity. Still, with your shoddy plans and simple intentions laid so plainly bare, it was hard to find any genuine argument.

“Well?” His simple response in the face of your downtrodden guilt snapped your eyes back from the floor to his, the casual, brow-quirked expression on his face only surprising you further. He hardly seemed upset - just impatient, perhaps as his hands found his hips and he inclined his head slightly towards you, “What did I do?”

This time your shock seemed to surprise him, too. Still, you couldn’t help your wide-eyed stare as, once again, the pieces clicked into place. You’d fit in the ones Magma had given you before, but you hadn’t stopped for even a moment to consider if they were even a part of the right puzzle. So overwhelmed with self-doubt and anxiety, you hadn’t stopped to see if they added to the right picture. While you’d been busy drowning yourself in your own tears, Senku had been trying to figure out how he’d upset you.

“N-no, Senku, it wasn’t--”

“Seriously, don’t bullshit me. If you’re mad at me I can’t fix it if--”

“Senku.” It wasn’t often that you spoke so softly and so genuinely, old habits of smiling to appease and speaking to placate carrying over even in this new world. It took Senku off guard to hear you speak his name that way, your smile somehow both guilty and earnest as you finally crossed the room to stand closer to your friend.

“I mean it. You didn’t do anything.” As his eyes pushed you for explanation you found yourself becoming bashful, gaze escaping his as nervous hands began to play with grown out strands of your hair as if you'd find an excuse less embarrassing than the truth within their tresses, “I just got worried that I was bothering you so I decided to give you some space.”

Senku’s eyes, narrowed as his lips pursed to push out a small hum, told you that explanation wasn’t quite enough for him - he could tell there was more, and he wasn’t about to let you go with any unspoken turmoils. Not after he’d gone through all the effort of learning your ever-changing schedule to corner you just to address them.

“Yeah? Who told you that?” The way your shoulders stiffened at the question told Senku immediately that he’d hit the right nail, and rather directly. It made him pause, for just a moment, thinking about how you specifically must have felt being made to think of yourself as burdensome; he was quick to sigh off the dull ache it caused in his chest, shrugging to himself. He’d found you and cleared the issue, which he supposed was all that really mattered now.

“Yo and Magma said that maybe… I should give you… space…” Senku had finally been ready to let it go when you opted to answer. The way he looked at you as you spoke, though, took away what little steam you’d had starting the sentence. Mouth having cocked ever so slightly ajar as brows flattened and eyes focused in on you, Senku’s reaction to this information was obvious. It did little to ease your embarrassment when his words came out to echo what his face already spoke clearly.

“You took advice from Yo and Magma?” Despite himself Senku found a grin quirking his lips as your cheeks tinged pink, pouting over your light-hearted embarrassment at having your actions laid bare so logically. As you began to whine about his assessment, Senku found himself unable to hold back a laugh. He couldn’t deny that you were cute.

“Look.” The sudden serious shift to Senku’s tone took you off guard once more, pout-protruded lips parting as you snapped back to genuine attention, “You don’t bother me. If I needed more time to myself I’d just say that.” Though the casual way he scratched at his ear feigned ease, you knew he was trying to settle your nerves.

“Besides,” Senku’s grin turned sharper as his voice took on a teasing lilt, fingers raising to give your cheek a teasing pinch, “who’s going to test out all of our experiments if I don’t have my assistant with me, huh?” As often as others had referred to you as Senku’s assistant, he’d never admitted it himself; hearing the words from his mouth made your heart clench and you moved despite yourself as your arms came to wrap around Senku’s waist, pulling him in for the hug you’d been aching to give him for ages.

Much as Senku groaned a mild complaint about the overly-emotional contact he made no move to resist you, fighting only the smile that threatened to show his thoughts more honestly on his lips than he wanted, for the moment. Rather, he allowed you your moment, reciprocating by means of a somewhat stiff hand resting atop your head.

“If you’re worried about something just talk to me about it. That makes the most sense.” Even under the light chastisement you just smiled, nodding into the loose leathers of Senku’s clothes. You’d spent more than enough time to find comfort in his bluntness, knowing he had just as much told you not to be stupid next time as he had told you that he was there to support you, and he didn't want you hesitating to rely on him.

“Thanks, Senku.”

“Yeah.” A soft scratch to your hair made you hold tighter, and Senku was quick to take to surprise.

“You can let go of me now.”

“One more minute.”

“Eh?!”

xxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: Hello Anon! Please do not worry, my requests are open and I am always happy to have more things to write! You were not rude at all. Thank you for your request. I hope you like how it turned out!

As always, thank everyone else who took the time to read as well, and I hope you enjoyed just the same.

Safe travels, readers!

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 14

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

WARNING: TW/Mentions of past Suicidal ideations

First - Prev - Next

CH.14

“You’re just going to give him free reign of the house?”

“I did not think you of all people would have a problem with this, you were the one who expressed the most disapproval with keeping him in the containment unit.”

“Yes, but wasn’t your main concern that he would leave?”

“Fiddleford, he was homeless. Where else is he going to go?”

“Well there is that Rick character he keeps mentioning…”

“You sound a bit on edge, do you remember him from Backupsmore?”

“Remember him?”

“Do you remember Diane Sanchez? He’s her husband- well, he was her husband.”

“I’m afraid the name doesn’t ring a bell…”

“Hmm, I’m not surprised, engineering wasn’t her major. Regardless, you’re better off having not met him. I don’t believe we have to worry about him. He is… very far away.”

“And Stan has no hard feelings towards you?”

“On one hand, he tells me he believes I’m only keeping here as part of an elaborate, delusional grieving process, and he will ‘play along’ however long that process takes. On the other hand, he wrote ‘Look what I did to your other hand’ on my hand in marker while I was asleep, and on quite literally the other hand he drew a turkey. Fiddleford, stop laughing.”

“I wouldn’t call that malicious, but it certainly explains why you decided to keep your gloves on outside of the lab. And he agreed we could continue to study his memory loss?”

“Yes, he did - I assume that’s what you two were discussing earlier?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You were up in the attic with him for at least an hour this morning, I assume you were conducting another interview? Locking the door was a bit excessive but without a neurology or psychology degree myself I am in no place to question your methods.”

“Interview-? Oh, um, yes. Interviewing. That’s exactly what we were doing. And nothing else.”

“Of course. Now- do you know where he is? I need to talk to him about an upcoming Cryptid Hunt.”

“You’re going to take him with you?”

“I was hoping both of you would accompany me actually. But if he will not, I’d need you to stay back here with him if you wouldn’t-”

“I wouldn’t mind none.”

“Thank you for your patience and understanding Fiddleford, I’m glad I was correct in my assumption that you’d be the best suited to assist me.”

“Any of our other colleagues woulda called the cops on your presumptuous behind.”

“...I know, and I am grateful you didn’t. Now, where is he?”

“Last I saw him was in the attic trying to cover up the window with a sheet - some type of paranoia? And I heard him come downstairs a few minutes ago but I haven’t seen him. If I were to take a guess though, he most likely went through that hatch leading to the platform on your roof - it’s still open.”

“What? Stanley can’t be on the roof, he’s afraid of heights.”

*Stan abruptly drops from the hatch, landing on his feet*

“Guys you won’t believe this but some dude in a giant moth costume just flew by- woah, you alright there PhD? You look like you already saw a ghost.”

(...)

*a series of clicking noises and hoots*

“Antenna curling! That's his tell! I fold.”

“Sorry, Stanley, but it appears Mothman was bluffing.”

“What? I had 4 aces! That moth is a wizard! Guess it’s up to you to win this for us, Doc.”

*Mothman takes a bite out of a wool cardigan, Fiddleford nearby with no chips angrily crosses his arms*

“...He's mocking me.”

“I was cheating the last 8 turns, too.”

“Stanley, for shame.”

“What? I already folded. This cheater didn’t prosper.”

(...)

“Good on you for winning, Stanford.”

“Of course, I’m just sorry that I couldn’t win before he took more bites out of your cardigan.”

“Good thing I had this flashlight to distract him, he really is a moth.”

“...Did you steal that from my coat closet?”

“Yes.”

“What else did you steal?”

“Well it’s a good thing Mothman didn’t have any money on him ‘cause you wouldn’t have anywhere to put it.”

“Give me back my wallet, Stanley.”

“Poor sport.”

(...)

“D-E-F-P-O-T-E-C”

“Now use both eyes, what’s the smallest line you can read?”

“Line ten. L-E-F-O-D-P-C-T.”

“Oculus dexter and oculus sinister are both 20/20, but your oculus uterque is 20/15.”

“Look we’ve been at this snail chart-”

“Snellen chart.”

“Whatever, we’ve done this like five times. What’s the point? I already told you I don’t need glasses.”

“It just doesn’t make sense… We’re identical, your visual acuity should be 20/40 or above because years of straining would make your vision even worse than mine.”

“I dunno what you want me to tell you PhD, my eyes are fine.”

“...Did Sanchez have something to do with this?”

“Sanc-.”

“Rick Sanchez. I know that’s the Rick you’ve off-handedly mentioned several times.”

“How can you be so sure? It’s a pretty common name.”

“Because you would be familiar with that egotistical, destructive, jaded, cynical-”

“Okay so you do know Rick. And yeah, we ran in the same circle for a bit, what about it?”

“He was always doing morally questionable experiments-”

“That’s funny coming from you.”

“-but altering physiology was something he had a special interest in. Did he give you some form of eye surgery or technological implant?”

“You think I’d let that nihilistic asshole near my eyes while I was passed out… or awake? Hell no. I don’t remember ever having vision problems. The closest he ever came to ‘altering’ me or whatever the fuck you’re tweaking about was help me steal a bunch of pills from the Galac-the government.”

“You- Why did you steal pills?”

“I couldn’t get decent sleep, and after getting my stomach pumped it’s not like any doctor was ever going to give me ambien or anything stronger ever again. Also, to stick it to the man.”

“... Stanley, did you- did you overdose on ambien?”

“Twice.”

“... Was it on purpose?”

“... Once. Only once. Don’t-. Don’t look at me like I’m a kicked puppy. I know it’s messed up. I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I did it to myself, it isn’t anyone else’s fault. And I dunno what the fallout of your separation ten years ago was like, but no matter what happened this definitely wasn't your fault.

Look, if it makes you feel better, whatever you and specs have been spiking into my food and water has been working pretty great. I’m getting way better sleep here than I have in years.”

“We have not been putting drugs into your food or water.”

“If you say so, Doc.”

To be continued…

[vesseloflukola]

Hello fellow Lukola shippers! I am here to tell you how I arrived on this ship, and offer you my, hopefully calm thoughts on how I continue to stay on this ship, continually unbothered.

I have loved Bridgerton from the first time I watched it back in 2020. I loved Colin, and especially Pen, from the very beginning. I read all of the books after watching that season and particularly fell in love with 2 of the books. I don’t have the energy at this time to talk about the second book I loved, so let’s concentrate on the first one, shall we? It was Colin and Pen’s story, of course. So, of course, I was delighted when I found out that their season would be moved up to season 3.

Now, I admit, as much as I loved the characters, and thought the actors were well cast, I was not truly excited until right before season 3 was released. Nicola and Luke’s names did not regularly roll off of my tongue as they do now. However, I was excited for the release of the first half of season 3 and started seeing TikTok video’s of them.

What was this? A world tour? With amazing interviews? How on earth did I not know that they had to REPRESS their chemistry!?! What? Wait! These two amazing people who can’t keep their hands to themselves and can’t keep their eyes from wandering are not somehow having a torrid love affair?

Well, I was a goner from that point on. My days were no longer my own. I absolutely HAD to find and watch every single video I had missed from every stop on the world tour so far. I had to know their back story. I had to find every picture I could. You would have thought it was my job to know everything I could about them. I learned a lot. Then I had to wait with everybody else for new interviews and new pictures to come out. It was hard being caught up, but then I could find out what the fans were talking about.

I truly believe that Nic and Luke love each other. They showed that love on the WT. They were both completely unhinged at times, and I loved every second of it. I also believe (based on his detailed memory from their first meeting) that Luke was drawn to Nic from the moment they first met and I think her feelings for him grew over time as they got to know each other better.

I know Luke had something with Antonia. I have personally been calling it a situationship. Obviously I don’t know any of these individuals, but from what we have been shown (by Luke in this case), it was completely casual. We have seen how he has been with past girlfriends and we have seen how he has been with Nic. In all cases he has been protective, warm, and happy around them. I have not seen a single picture (or video)of he and Antonia where he is any of those things. In fact, the few glimpses we have gotten of them together (especially the pap walk), he looked pretty miserable, or in some cases ambivalent at best. I am pretty positive he has not seen her since the Italy trip for his friend Rory’s birthday. I also think she is a true pest who wants everyone to believe what she had with Luke was a lot more than what it was and that it is still magically going on.

I think Jake is a good friend of Nics who accidentally got papped with Nic while Nic was being her regular friendly self. I think he is exactly who he (and his other friends) tried to portray himself to be before the Jakola’s tried to convince us otherwise. I think he is a good friend to Nic and in trying to protect her (from a certain DM) he ended up giving them exactly what they wanted to try to “prove” a relationship launch. I think he might have at some point tried to use that false narrative to try to get some notice, but I think it might have backfired and maybe (hopefully) he learned his lesson and is back in Nic’s good graces (which he appears to be after the friendly dinner pics we got recently). I’m just saying I don’t think Jake is a bad guy. I just don’t think he is dating Nic.

When all is said and done, I think Nic and Luke have been together since Chaos week in August. I think they are happy. I would love an announcement at some point, but I honestly don’t see us getting one any time soon. I will settle for the crumbs they are so lovingly willing to share. For now, I am only listening to what they have to tell us and not the noise of what anyone else chooses to release to try to disturb the fandom.

Sitting in my permanent seat on the ship.

[paperclip-skz]

Hyunjin's Love and Leashes (part 2)

The Offering

fem*Reader x Hyunjin

*WARNING*

contains: mentions of sexual content, and BDSM references, this is going to be a lot of parts and little parts to it (there is a cliffhanger at the end)

Also note: This story is HEAVLY influenced by the Netflix movie Love and Leashes. This is just "my" version of it, you could say. I am writing to write and I recommend you watch Love and Leashes. *** This is not an original idea, this IS INSPIRED BY A MOVIE/ANIME**

WC: 1.6k Part 1

You’ve done some research since your last encounter. Gathering as much information on dom and sub relationships. You’ve learned so much within these last few days. For example, it's common for a dom to gift an item to the sub to indicate a sort of “possession” over the sub. 

This leads you to get an idea. 

You walk into Hyunjin’s office, a place all too familiar to you. You walk in with confidence with a silver case in hand. He’s at his desk, typing away at his computer, focused intently on something. 

However, the second you walk in, his attention is placed on you. You walk in with ease, seemingly unaffected, but internally, your nerves are skyrocketing. Your black pin skirt rides up slightly as you sit in the chair directly across his desk. Your legs cross, your face is neutral, and the silver case rests calmly in your lap, along with a slim piece of paper. 

“Hello, Ms.L/N. How can I help you?” his tone is teasing, and the smirk that plays on his lips is evident.

“Hello” 

You can play this in two ways. The first way is to play this like any other business deal. Hand him the contract, make sure he understands what he’s signing, and carry on with what the contract entails. Or, the other way you can go about this since this isn’t any other ordinary business interaction, you can make this interesting. 

“What I have in my hand here,” you lift the paper out of your lap, “is our contract. This holds all the rules and limits I’m willing to go. If you don’t agree with something on this list, I want you to cross it out. And then, after you’ve read through it, sign it, and I will give you these.” You lift the silver case with your other hand. “I’ll tell you what these are once you’ve read and signed the contract.” 

You lean forward to place the paper on Hyunjin’s desk. Without hesitation, he slides the paper in his direction and reaches for a pen. “I want you to read it, Hyunjin.” his eyes widen at the sound of his name. “Thoroughly”

“I trust you” is all he says. 

You feel a strange warmth when you hear his words, but he needs to understand all this. “Hyunjin,” you say with a demanding tone, “read it.” 

You can see his whole body go timid. He’s enjoying this, and you can clearly tell. His cheeks turn a delightful shade of pink, and he clears his throat. 

The contract 

Made this day _11/14_ of 2024 (the commencement date) Between  “Party A” ___ And  “Party B” ___ The Parties agree as follows. COMMENCEMENT AND TERM:

The parties enter into this contract on the commencement date fully aware of its nature and undertake to abide by its conditions.  This contract shall be effective for a period of 4 months

“4 months?” he lifts his head from the contact to you. 

“I thought that was a reasonable amount of time” you bash your lashes. 

He nods his head silently. Thoughts threaten to speak, but he holds them in. He continues to read.  

SUBJECT TO: “safewords” The party(ies) recognize that one of the parties may make demands of the other party that may push their personal, emotional, spiritual, and physical boundaries. In such circumstances related to this, one party may make use of one or both of the “safewords” provided.  “Yellow” will be used to attract the attention of the party close to her/his limit of endurance.  “Red” will be used to bring to the attention of the other party that the first party cannot tolerate any further demand. When the word is said, the first-party actions will cease completely with immediate effect.  “Green” will be used to indicate to the other party that all is well and to continue. 

“So you want to use the traffic light system?” he says over the contract. 

“Would you rather we use something different?” you interject. 

He shakes his head and loosens the collar of his shirt. A different kind of buzz strikes through you, and you notice how he’s being affected by just reading the contract alone under your fierce gaze. 

“Keep reading,” you nod.

PERSONAL LIMITS Please check off your limits.  ACTIVITIES:  I will engage in all of the following acts involving: Does party A consent to: Pain: this includes spanking, knife play, slapping, and, but is not limited to, genital pain.  Wax play Marking: this includes hickies, bruises, and, but is not limited to, red imprints.  Intercourse  Breath control Use of toys includes, but is not limited to; vibrators, dildoes, stimulating creams, blindfolds, gags, handcuffs, and bondage tape.  Breast/nipple play Roleplay Masturbation

Once he’s finished reading off from the list he looks up to you. “Intercourse?” he questions. 

Your heart skips a full beat. “I just found a random list online.” your confidence wavers for a second, not knowing exactly what his boundaries are. You can play without sex, but do you want that? You can’t lie; the idea of sex with Hyunjin excites you; it makes your body tingle in ways you're just now discovering, so when he smirks at you and checks the box indicating he’s okay with it, you can’t help but squeeze your thighs together. 

He looks over the list again and checks each box. You're not sure if he’s truly okay with anything or if he’s just okay with you doing anything to him. Either way, he signs each one. It's supposed to be all you need, but something inside you nags at you. 

CONCLUSION  We, the undersigned, have read and understood fully the procedures of this contract. We freely accept its terms and have acknowledged this by our signatures.  Party A __ Party B __Y/N L/N __

He gazes at you, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, before shifting his attention back to the contract laid out before him. With a steady hand, he signs his name, the pen gliding smoothly across the paper. Just like that, the culmination of all your anticipation and meticulous research comes down to this singular act. The air is thick with unspoken tension as he lifts his gaze back to you, his eyes now full of expectation, waiting for your next words to break the silence.

You clear your throat and set the silver case on his desk. While placing the case on his desk, you grab the contact from him and set it in your lap. Hyunjin approaches the ornate case, his heart fluttering with excitement as if it were a treasure chest filled with secrets waiting to be uncovered. With a gentle touch, he unclasps the lid, the soft click echoing in the quiet room. As the case opens, he is greeted by an exquisite pair of steel silver glasses, glinting like polished jewels beneath the warm glow of the overhead light. 

He delicately lifts them from their plush velvet resting place, his fingers sliding over the cool, smooth surface of the frames. The glasses catch the light beautifully, casting shimmering reflections that dance along the walls. 

With a slight furrow in his brow and a playful glint in his eyes, he holds them up, turning them this way and that, savoring the craftsmanship. “Is this some sort of inside joke?” he asks, his voice tinged with mischief. “Could it possibly be a nod to that unforgettable closet incident?” His mind races back to the amusing memory, and a smile creeps onto his lips as he considers the possibility.

You giggle and say, “Not exactly. You will wear these glasses whenever you feel the need to be dominated. If you need me at any time, just touch the glasses and look at me. This will be a signal to me that you want to be controlled.”

His smile widens. His body buzzes with excitement, and he immediately puts them on. They look perfect on him; the framed glasses complement his features perfectly. It makes your breathing grow heavy, and a subtle slickness gathers at your core. 

Hesitantly he brings his fingers and touches the corners lightly, already testing your reactions. 

You smile at his boldness and cross your legs. You lean back on the chair letting your body stretch, and cockily you beckon him to your side with your finger. 

He stands up from his chair, his chair pushing back, and he walks around his desk to the side of where you're sitting. You look up at him, keeping your composure, and dart your eyes down to the floor, he follows carefully, lowering his knees to the floor. He keeps his eyes on you, watching every move you make. 

You have two options: You could have some fun with him, knowing he’d do just about anything in this position….or you could torture him a little and make him wait. Wait for what exactly, you don’t know, but that's part of the fun, too. 

You lean in closer, the warmth of your breath grazing his skin. He feels the tension ripple through his entire body at your proximity. “I’ll email you the details for your first play,” you whisper softly into his ear, your voice low and inviting. As you pull away, you catch a glimpse of his expression—a mix of surprise and a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. You rise from your chair gracefully, leaving him in a moment of delightful confusion, still feeling the lingering sensation of your closeness as you walk away.

“Will it be soon?” he calls to you before you walk out his door. You turn back to him and notice he’s still in the same spot you left him. 

“I’ll keep you posted pretty boy” 

“Is that my nickname now? And how are you going to email me, when you don’t know my email?” 

You smirk, “I have my ways. Don’t reply late pretty boy”

******

a/n: I have no idea where I'm going with this series, I know its gonna be a lot of parts and A LOT OF build up.....let me know if yall like where its going.

[buggachat]

adrien never went to public school / adrienette have never met AU where Ladynoir are dating but Marinette has beef with Adrien Agreste™ on twitter, spurred by her interest in the fashion industry and her friendship with Mylene. ads are all over the place of Adrien promoting products like air in a bottle and NFTs and just generally so many products that are extremely poor taste/bad for the environment. Marinette tweets about beauty standards in the industry and all the shit Gabriel brand does to the environment and how Adrien Agreste perfectly encapsulates it all.

Adrien, of course, never responds to any of her tweets. her tweets are just white noise in the background. she is nowhere near on his level. one day Marinette tweets out something akin to "if I saw Adrien Agreste irl i'd punch him in the face" and her twitter gets banned for Threats of Violence, Alya draws attention to the injustice of it via the Ladyblog and suddenly "I want to punch Adrien Agreste in the face [gets banned]" becomes a bit of a meme. NOW people know who Marinette is and are listening to what she's saying (on her new account or whatever). Chat Noir also tweets that he wants to punch Adrien in the face

A hashtag trends. Marinette caves and starts tweeting about the scandals of the industry on her Ladybug twitter too. Adrien's twitter and instagram comments are flooded with both threats to punch him but also just generally critical comments like "nice pic and all but are you not going to address the sweatshop allegations?". Adrien still does not address it. At most he turns comments off. Marinette is gnawing at the wood of her desk.

Then a Ladybug and Chat Noir identity reveal happens.

Marinette is stunned. Absolutely mouth agape. Cannot form words. Chat Noi— NO, ADRIEN— ADRIEN FUCKING AGRESTE looks at her and is like "oh ha :) .... Marinette Dupain-Cheng, right? You're the girl who wanted to punch me hahaha"

after recovering from her world being shattered, she's like...... "hahaha...... um............... yeah...... uh..... so you... DO know who i am. and you're just. ignoring it then. hahaha... ok... thats....... fine..... anyway..... u-uh...... im not... gonna actually punch you. but. um. k-kitty do you um. maybe want to stop promoting deforestation and all that"

he's like "I don't"

she's like. "yes you do. literally in your newest ad you said to the camera 'who needs trees when bottled air is the way of the future'. like did you really read that line out loud and not see a problem with it"

"yeah, that wasn't me"

"what are you talking abou—"

"it's deepfaked"

"..... what"

"all of my ads in the past few years are deepfakes. I complained too much so my father fired me. turns out that i signed away all rights to my face and voice to him when I was 13 or something. he can just use my face and voice and name however he wants. he generates ads. i dont even have access to the 'Adrien Agreste' twitter or insta accounts. sometimes he makes me do runways but beyond that I'm not involved in all."

"... ... ... ... ... what"

"yeah haha... :") im sorry. i wish i could help you more. but he never listens to me. i don't like it either, i.... i've asked him to stop sooo many times. but he never listens to me. i hate seeing my face used without my consent but haha.... i don't... have any rights here so. sorry. i really wish i could help more"

and now marinette hates "Adrien Agreste"™ ads/posts EVEN MORE and is threatening to kill Gabriel Agreste himself. all while kissing the real adrien agreste silly

[euthymiya]

[ A LITTLE DEATH — FT. KINICH ]

synopsis: sometimes, he comes back to you with a beating heart. other times, his body is cold and limp until he reemerges from the flames. you never get used to kinich falling during the pilgrimage, but you’re certainly used to the feeling of his body

word count: 4.4k words of emotional porn. ty & goodnight

before you read: female reader ; major spoilers for natlan archon quest and kinich’s character story one ; kinich falls during the night warden war and resurrects so technical character death (but not for long) ; graphic descriptions of injuries and blood from war ; mentions of gambling, alcoholism and abuse (his father’s lore) ; slight exploration of mortality ; hand jobs ; orgasm delay (kinich to himself) ; cunnilingus ; fingering ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie ; not proof read because i wrote this all in tumblr drafts like the psycho i am

notes: this is an unhealthy progressing obsession. this boy is not good for my health unfortunately

“Will you stop crying?” He sighs softly, thumb tracing your cheek as it catches yet another rivulet of your sorrow.

You glare up at him, lips curled into a scowl as you sniffle and counter, “how about you stop dying?”

Kinich is no stranger to dying. He and death are good friends, in fact—he visits often, and in return, it houses him kindly for however short his visit may be.

He likes traversing the Night Kingdom, likes to speak to those who have borne his name before him. Dying isn’t so bad when you get a chance to see the things he does in the realm of the Wayob.

But you don’t like to see the aftermath. Blood. Bruises. Cuts. Gashes. Sometimes mangled limbs. Every time he falls in battle, the aftermath serves as a jarring reminder that revival is miracle you can’t take for granted.

Kinich doesn’t understand it, but he tries to. He holds you when he comes back, listening to you sniffle into his chest. He’s always silent as his hand rubs along your back, always unsure of what to say.

I lost you, you’ll always whisper first.

I was always going to come back, he’ll always respond.

The Pyro Archon, you think, loves fiercely enough to rival the God of Cryo herself. The Tsaritsa, God of Love, loves clearly. It’s delicate as it leaves chills, and yet, it is reserved, rare to find after she’s hardened herself. The God of War’s love takes form in the exact opposite. It’s blazing. Warm. Unrelenting. Irrevocably bright. It’s a flame that never dies out, that never needs a ceremony or ritual to keep burning like the contending fire.

She loves all of her children—you know that because you see it on her face, too.

The brief, fleeting flash of horror every time she sees a body. The bitter pride that comes with such a noble sacrifice. She loves her people, and that’s why, when your tears hit the ground as you cry for a fallen Kinich, she gives your hand a squeeze right before she brings enters the night kingdom to bring him back.

The people of Natlan are proud of their history. So much, that they find honor in dying for the cause.

You think you’re the only exception.

You and death are not good friends. You don’t like the way it mocks you with the limp hands of the boy you love and his beat-less heart. You don’t like the way it cozies up against him, dragging him away from you with its hand clasped firmly in his.

It never takes him away for too long before it gives him right back, but you don’t like sharing.

Not Kinich. Not with death.

Your broken out of your thoughts when his fingers gently press into your cheeks, squeezing them together as his hand tilts your head up from his chest to look into his eyes.

“I’m okay,” he insists bluntly, but never without that gentleness.

You’d laugh any other time. Always so straight to the point, you’d tease if it were some other day.

Instead, this time, you sniffle once more before you croak, “you don’t know what it’s like to witness.” Slowly, your hand creeps up his body, traveling over his abdomen before coming to a stop right over his heart. “This time…this time it was here.”

This pilgrimage, Kinich comes back to you with a stab through his heart. Other times, he’s returned pierced through his lungs from behind. Or perhaps with a bloodied head, split open by a blunt force.

It never gets easier. This time, however, you think it’s gotten even harder.

He’s quiet for a moment, like he’s contemplating what to say before he decides to toss the idea of words out entirely. Suddenly, his hands find your waist, flipping you to sit on his lower belly, legs straddling his hips.

Kinich isn’t always good with words. He can count on one hand the number of people he’s had in his life to love. His life has not been kind enough to him to allow keeping all fingers up at the same time.

One for his mother. Down.

One for his father. Down.

And one for you. Up.

He’s sure one day, he might be able to lift a finger for Mualani and Kachina, too. He cares a great deal about them, of course. But love is a difficult thing for him to grasp—perhaps because it’s always been something he never got in full.

Not until you.

More than most people, Kinich understands loss. You know that. He understands it too well, in fact. Sometimes, he wonders if he’d lost his father’s love long before the body was limp and lifeless to show for it. Sometimes, he wonders if his mother ever loved him enough to count as a loss at all. Maybe if she had, then she wouldn’t have walked away. Maybe she never loved him quite as much as she loved herself.

But you’re different for him. You love him more than you love anything else. More than yourself, too. He’s never been loved more than anything else. His father loved gambling, maybe even the burn of alcohol on his tongue, too. His mother loved freedom, and more than that, she loved the idea of living in the absence of fear. Neither loved him more than any of those things.

So, you’re different. You know that, too. You’re a loss he can’t comprehend. Not that he’s ever had to, of course, but his brain cannot handle the idea of being without you.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t fully understand your pain. Maybe that’s why he wonders why knowing he’ll always come back from falling isn’t enough to soothe you.

He’s never loved someone who he knew would come back even in the face of death. It’s a luxury, he thinks sometimes—you get to love him with the luxury of a safety net. But you’re too precious to feel the weight of a real loss. He hopes he can shield you from it for as long as he can, one pilgrimage at a time.

His hands settle for your hips, squeezing once, twice, a third time before he sits up and pulls you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

You kiss back easily. Drinking the breath straight from his mouth is best proof that he’s alive. You take it in greedily.

“I’m okay,” he repeats one more time. This time, it’s a much softer tone. Like a gentle reminder. Like a plead to understand.

His hand grabs yours, pressing it right over his heart so you can feel the erratic beating under your palm. Just from kissing you, it’s rapid enough that he almost feels he should be embarrassed. But you close your eyes and let out a shaky breath, making him watch you carefully as he takes in the relief in your face.

“You’re okay,” you nod slowly.

“I am,” he agrees.

You don’t know when it happens or who starts it first. One moment, your hand is traveling under his shirt to feel his bare skin, to have better contact with him so you can feel more proof he’s alive.

Warm skin. Flexing muscle. Damp sweat. When your hand finds his heart again, his hand cups the back of your head and pulls you into a heated kiss.

Clothes come off after that. It’s a blur. It’s not until you untie the bandana to uncover his forehead do you really take it all in.

Bare under you, Kinich is alive. The proof his body is breathing and pumping blood through his veins is right there before you—standing tall between his legs in the form of a flushed, red cock. Blood rushed there to prove his desire for you.

“Last time, it was here,” you whisper, thumb tracing a pale, faint scar over his ribcage, right where his lung is. “Did it hurt?”

“It did,” he nods, studying you as you don’t meet his eyes. “I don’t remember much of that, though.”

“Do you like it?” You whisper. “Is that why you do it?”

He’s silent. And then, quietly: “Sometimes.”

“Why?” You breathe, cupping his cheeks as you search his eyes for an answer.

Finally, in a rare moment, he chuckles. “Because it’s good to remember I’m alive,” he murmurs, “right before you die is when you realize you’re alive the most. Why you’re alive, too.”

“I don’t understand,” you furrow your brows in frustration. He smiles fondly, kissing your jaw as he lets out a low hum.

“I think of you,” he whispers, sucking sweetly into your skin, “and then I remember how you’re alive, too. Every time I die, you get to stay alive a little more.”

The abyss never goes away. Now, more than ever, he’s aware of that. It’s a war he has to see the winning side of, no matter the price.

There’s a loss this time that he’s unwilling to pay. Can’t bear to witness. Can’t allow to happen.

You decide you give up trying to understand—much like you do every year. Instead, you throw yourself into feeling him, pulling him into a heated, deeper kiss as your tongue glides against his. You give into the battle fast, letting him take the lead and taste you.

You’re not one for battles, not like Kinich is. You’d rather relish in peace than remember the cruelties of war.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips. “I can’t lose you.”

“You’ve never lost me,” he argues.

“It doesn’t feel that way,” you admit quietly.

“Then let me show you I’ve always been right here.”

As if on cue, his cock twitches between your bodies, hot and throbbing as it presses against your lower belly. You reach between your bodies, wrapping around the thick girth before your thumb grazes the tip.

He shudders, stifling a groan as you slowly smear the dribbling pre cum along his length, taking gentle care to make sure you don’t hurt him.

You’ve seen Kinich hurt enough times.

“Does that feel good?” You grin slightly, watching his eyes flutter shut as you stroke him up and down, fisting around him in a tight squeeze.

“Feels great,” he breathes, “like I’m very alive.”

“Good,” you nod.

“Fuck,” he chokes when you squeeze around the tip, pace quickening as you glide your palm up and down along him faster.

Faster.

The faster he cums, the faster you’re proven he’s living once more.

But he stops you—right before he can spill into your hand, a shaky wrist comes to force yours to stop moving. You look at him questioningly, and he closes his eyes and takes labored breaths to calm himself from the slow, fading orgasm that would’ve shaken through his body.

“What are you—oh,” you gasp, when your body is flipped to lay on your back, Kinich hovering above you as he stares down at you.

You think love is the look in his eyes when he sees you like this, every time. That longing in his pupils, desperate and almost pained even though you’re right there.

Loving something is always a double edged sword. It hurts just as much as it heals—the scabs forming around your heart from his temporary departure is proof of that.

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing along your neck.

I love you isn’t something Kinich says often. You feel his love in other ways. The fresh fruit he brings you on his way back from a commission. The small kiss between your brows he always greets you with, and the delicate kiss to your mouth when he leaves. The hand on the small of your back as he guides you along places, never letting you feel his absence. The pillow he shares with you every night when you invade his space and take up his side of the bed.

You know he loves you. Being reminded is a good feeling, though. Your body shivers as you feel a familiar ache building up between your legs at his sudden confession.

“More than anything?” You ask.

“Yes,” he responds, amused.

“You better not be lying,” you warn playfully.

He chuckles—you’re slowly coming back to your usual self. Causal teasing and playful flirting. You’re all the things he’s not. Open. Vulnerable. So inexplicably bright. You smile and something in him heals. Something in him itches to do better—be better.

“When have I ever lied to you?” He challenges.

You pretend to think for a moment before caving and stretching your lips into a wide grin. The first real smile of the night. You pull him close, kissing him again. Just to kiss him. There’s no heat or desire this time around.

He kisses back sweetly. Just to kiss you.

“What did you see this time?” You whisper when you pull away. “In the Night Kingdom.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, tracing shapes into your hip with his thumb, “I think I was too busy thinking of you.”

Kinich is only flirty when he avoids something. He’s only ever indirect when he doesn’t want you to know something. It takes form in less honest, more playful banter that he learns from you.

You sigh, rolling your eyes half-heartedly as you whisper, “don’t lie to me.”

“I did think of you,” he insists. “It’s not a lie. I always think of you.”

He decided to prove it by dropping down to busy himself between your legs, gently spreading them enough to press his nose against your clit as he breathes you in.

Sweet. You’re always sweet. You taste and smell it. You drip of honeyed, saccharine desire. When his tongue presses between your folds, he thinks he’s dipping it in gold.

“K-kinich, wait—”

“You say that every time,” he raises a smug brow. His fingers press into you, spreading you open as he inspects your fluttering walls. “But you never mean it, do you?”

Filthy, you think. He’s got an air of pure obscenity to him that you’re sure comes only when he’s tired of feeling alone. When he needs to know you’re here for good and not just for the moment.

“You play dirty,” you scowl, twitching when his tongue swirls over your clit, the smooth rumble of his chuckle vibrating against the sensitive bud. His fingers curl into you, pressing against a very delicate, very responsive spot in the back of your walls.

“Is that so?” He drawls, “you don’t exactly seem to mind it,” he murmurs.

And then his lips wrap around your clit, sucking as his tongue rolls in circles against it as you writhe. You can feel the tips of his digits bully into that same spot over and over, making your back arch as you whine.

“Fuck,” you breathe, “baby, please.”

You don’t know what you’re pleading for. He’s giving you what you want exactly how you want it—maybe that’s why you always say it, though. So you can never stop having him. Asking and asking and hoping he’ll give you everything without pausing.

He does, too. Kinich never gives half of himself into anything. For the right price, you get all of him. You pay the price in gentle kisses along his cheek and soft fingertips in his hair. In a warm lap under his cheek when he’s tired and a soft voice to remind him he’s not alone. In a worried look every time he’s scuffed and a soft smile every time your eyes meet his.

You pay the price of your love, and he compensates you with the reward of his. It’s a fair trade.

The only difference is that unlike his other deals, Kinich would still pay his love to you even if you stopped paying yours. He couldn’t stop if he tried. It’s an exception he doesn’t exactly choose to make, but doesn’t necessarily want to change, either.

Lucky for him, you don’t show any signs of pulling away.

“You’re beautiful,” he says quietly, whispering the words into your cunt like he’s speaking directly to your desire, “and mine.”

“G-gods,” you moan, hand flying to grasp at his hair and tug as his fingers quicken their pace, fucking into your heat mercilessly as his tongue rolls over your clit.

It’s hot. It always is in the Pyro Nation. But hotter is the growing desire in the pit of your belly, and the heat between your legs that only one person can ignite. The flames lick at your sanity before something erupts in your system and all you feel is a gush of pure, white hot pleasure.

“That’s it,” he praises, working you through your orgasm as you let out a soft cry of his name.

Kinich is alive. You know that because only he could make you feel this way, and he is. He’s making you feel like there’s love between your legs as he coaxes the height of pleasure from you, buried into the apex of your thighs like it’s the only place he ever wants to be. You’re reminded that instead of blood dripping from his fingertips, it’s the essence of your arousal.

You’re reminded that when you need him, he’s never not there. Never leaving you behind from this world into another.

“I love you,” you blurt out in a post-orgasm haze.

He looks up at you with a toothy grin. It’s so rare to see him smile so freely. It’s like a child’s, sometimes. Something youthful and joyful and almost innocent enough that it makes your heart ache a little more than it does feel full.

Only a little, though.

“You say that a lot when I make you cum,” he laughs smoothly, a boyish and sweet little sound. You huff with a roll of your eyes.

“You do too,” you counter. “Maybe we only love each other when we feel good.”

“I always feel good with you,” he grins.

“I can make you feel a whole lot better,” you wink, wriggling your brows in a playful, tempting offer.

He takes it. With another soft laugh, he climbs up your body to hover his face over yours, admiring the sweat clinging to your forehead like it’s proof of his good work.

“Go on then,” he whispers. “Make me feel better. I just died today, you know.”

“I know,” you grumble only slightly, “I remember that very clearly. It was very rude of you.”

“My sincerest apologies,” he offers.

When Kinich was young, love was transactional. His father loved him with a box of sweets when a gamble of wages doubled. His mother was happy enough to afford him her gaze when there were flowers in the vase. He knew from early on not to expect any of it unless the proper price was offered.

And then he learned necessities were transactional, too. To exist is to pay a price. He watched as strangers took away his home, the remainder of his family’s belongings packed away as his mother wiped her tears. Food is not free when she is not there to tend to crops. Clothes don’t come easy when your father spends his days drinking away instead of working.

Without mora, you survive more than you live.

He hated it. Hated not having enough. Not being enough. He wasn’t enough to make his father want to be good and he wasn’t enough to make his mother want to stay. Didn’t have enough to offer for something as simple as unconditional love.

Love with you feels a lot different than what he’s grown up learning. You love him even when he’s closed off and a little cold. When his blunt words are a little too blunt and his words press hard into you with force. When he’s tired, and can’t offer you proper company, you love him, too. When he’s gone for days at a time for a commission further away, you still love him as you wait.

It’s always enough for you even when what he gives really isn’t enough at all.

He stopped trying to understand a long time ago. He’s still human—not everything can make sense with the logic of equal transaction. Sometimes, he just wants. Sometimes, he can’t give enough for what he wants. You always give it, though.

He’s stopped trying to make sense of it all for the sake of finally knowing joy. Peace. Possibly even comfort.

“Why do you love me?” He asks softly, rubbing the tip of his hard cock against your thigh. You rub along his bare back with a gentle hand, feeling the goosebumps raise along his skin under your palm.

“Because it’s easy to,” you answer.

“That’s it?”

“Isn’t life hard enough?” You shrug, “it’s nice having something simple. Loving you is easy, and that’s enough.”

“I don’t understand,” he mirrors your words from earlier. “But as long as you don’t stop, I think it’s okay.”

You want to tell him you’ll never stop loving. Every flame in Natlan will have to burn out before you stop loving Kinich. You’re confident that it’s impossible that will ever happen. But instead of words, you gently reach between your bodies to grab at his cock—it’s been hard and neglected for long enough that he lets out a soft, needy sound at the sudden touch.

You bring him to brush against your entrance, murmuring a soft, “I want you,” before he groans in response.

“Fuck,” he says shakily, “me too.”

And then, finally, he presses his tip into you, pushing past your folds and nudging into the deepest part of you.

He’s alive. You know that because you can feel him in the most rawest, purest way. Bare skin to skin. Warmth on warmth. Sweat against sweat. Body tangled into body. He’s alive and here and you can feel all of him at once.

He’s everywhere. He’s in your lungs as you kiss him and steal his breath. He’s in your heart as you feel it skip a beat for him. He’s in your soul as it burns at the very idea of him. And he’s in your cunt as he presses himself into you with a roll of his hips.

You love him when he’s alive.

You love him when he’s dead.

You love him when he’s resurrected.

You love him when he’s yours like this.

“Kinich,” you gasp, letting out a breathless moan as his tip slams into that spongy spot in your walls, “there—y-yes, like that.”

“I know,” he murmurs, grinning a little smugly enough that you feel embarrassed to already be this fallen apart. “I know exactly where.”

“Smooth talker for someone who ruined my whole day,” you huff.

“I told you I’m okay,” he grunts lowly. He kisses your throat, right over your pulse as he whispers, “I’m right here.” You whine as he rolls his hips particularly harshly to slam his cock into your most delicate spot.

“Knowing something is coming back doesn’t mean you like losing it,” you argue. “I don’t want you anywhere but here.” He gasps when your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer as you squeeze tighter around him.

You hate seeing Kinich fall because you’re reminded it’ll happen one day for real. There’ll come a time where he won’t be resurrected. You don’t like being reminded of this simple truth.

He doesn’t understand it because he’s always too busy denying your fall. He’s too busy making sure he fights every battle to win this war so you can live beside him. So you don’t have to succumb to the cruel likes of the abyss.

Neither of you can seem to grasp the other’s mortality very well. So you try to forget in the feeling of being lost in each other’s bodies. Where proof of life blooms in every inch of skin. Every labored breath and drop of sweat, every flex of muscle and rapid thrum of a heart.

You’re alive, and so is Kinich.

He’s not alone, and neither are you.

No one has had to bear a loss, and that’s all that matters. For now, at least.

“You feel so good,” he says hoarsely, letting out a soft, low whine when your walls flutter around him at the praise. “C-can’t…can’t live without you.”

“Don’t say that,” you sob, reaching your limit, “enough talk about living. I’m tired of it.”

“Okay,” he breathes, “then just cum again for me. I want to feel you do it around me this time.”

Your second orgasm makes you forget Kinich is alive. You’re too busy feeling the rush of life yourself. Your body burns with pleasure through every nerve, the familiar snap of pressure between your legs that has your entire form spasming under Kinich.

“’M c-cumming,” you sob, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a sloppy kiss, muffling your sounds into his mouth as he swallows them whole.

“For me,” he hums.

“F-for you. Always for you.”

And then he cums too. Hard. For the last time, you’re hit with the evidence that he’s here with you and not somewhere else. Somewhere unreachable. Somewhere in a world apart from you.

He’s spilling warm, sticky cum into your walls with shaky arms holding him up above you, desperate rolls of his hips as he lets out choked sounds.

Skin slaps against skin and a combination of your arousals leaves a mess smeared between your legs, spilling down your inner thighs.

“Fuck—ngh. I’m…I’m…” he trails off.

He’s never been good with words like you. So instead, he buries his head into your neck and presses his nose into your skin, letting you cradle the back to his head so he knows you’re there.

“I know,” you pant, letting him fuck himself into you and ride out the high of his orgasm.

I know you need me. I need you too.

When he slumps over your body, you can feel his heart beat against yours. Rapid. Erratic. Harsh. Pounding. All of it is proof you’re both painfully mortal as you are alive.

“I love you,” you both whisper at the same time, utterly spent.

“You’re alive,” you breathe out a sigh of relief as your eyes close tiredly.

He hums, lifting his head to press a soft peck to your lips before he slumps into your neck against. “And so are you,” he murmurs in exhaustion.

You both fall asleep together with another year behind you.

Writing an emotional Kinich is actually really hard I’m not sure I even got it right bc we haven’t seen nearly enough of him but 😭 I hope this was not ooc enough that it was slightly believable. IDK I had a hard time deciding how he’d be in an emotionally charged moment of intimacy

[kaysungshine]

𝓛𝓸𝓯𝓲 𝓛𝓾𝓼𝓽 ♡

{ Pairing } - Producer.bf!Jisung x afab.gf!reader

{ Genre } - NSFW; s/f/d(dark)*, PWP, established relationship

{ Synopsis } - Your boyfriend doesn't know any other method of stress relief, other than creating music. He can get so consumed by it, it can become the stressor. So you decide to present him with a new method. That's how you found yourself walking down the street in nothing but lingerie and a long coat.

{ WC } - 2.9k

{ Warnings & Tags } - 18+ MDNI, *forced orgasm/slight dubcon if you squint, everything is consensual but there is begging for more when reader might be at her limit so that's why I'm including dubcon (for those who may find it triggering)*, use of pet names (baby, angel, mine, my love, good girl & Ji), very lowkey needy/soft dom & romantic sub dynamic, worshipping reader, oral (f. recieving), squirting, overstimulation, unprotected piv (do as I say & not as I write, pee after sex too!), creampie, cum feeding & eating, fingers in mouth, pussy worship, I may just have gotten carried away with oral fixations okay? FORGIVE ME.

{ Disclaimer } - This work is in no way associated or depicting the actual life of the members of SKZ. It is a fictional piece of work, and I do not own Stray Kids. All works of fiction are loosely inspired by SKZ, and in no way am I saying it is true to their character.

{ A/N } - I originally was going to post a Hyunjin oneshot next, but I wanted to finish this one in time for Jiji's birthday! It's 2 am on the 14th where I am heheh. Hopefully you all like it. Han producing music will always be hot asf for me personally lmao. Barely proofread.

The air was cool, seeping underneath your long wool coat. In any other circumstance, on a late fall night, the coat would be enough to keep the chill out. Today however, it wouldn't. But you still kept walking, determined to make it to Jisungs studio. 

You focused on the clicking of the heels on the boots you wore. And the sound of the wind picking up, signalling a blustery night ahead. The small sounds calm your nerves. 

You were anxious about Jisung's reaction, he was in one of his moods again. You understand, you truly do. Juggling everything he has to on his plate, it was no easy feat. There were times he'd just let that dark veil take over, and shut everyone out without even meaning to. 

You knew he was in that state again when you hadn't seen or heard from him in three days. It wasn't for lack of effort on your end either. Every phone call sent to voicemail, every text sent by you was met with the same response;

'At the studio, I'll text you after, angel'.

You knew it was time for intervention when Chan texted you that he was only coming home, at 2 in the morning no less, to shower and change. No eating, no resting, just back to the studio afterwards.

This had happened twice before in the almost year you've been dating. Each time you remember talking with him afterwards, he always said the same thing;

'making music is my stress relief.'

That may be true, but it doesn't change the fact that he is also a workaholic. One who easily gets lost in the creative space he has built a career off of. And once that diligence sets in, it's hard to shake off. 

So here you are, ready to try a new approach. Ready to offer a new kind of relief. An alternative. 

You and Jisungs sex life was far from boring. Far from infrequent, you'd say too. But it surely was more... monotonous. You'd never complain about it, and neither would he. There was nothing wrong with it. It just happened at the 'perfect' times in your relationship. 

Before bed, after date nights, on monthly anniversaries, to express massive amounts of love, etc. 

It was never to celebrate happiness, calm anger, or comfort sadness. Never to relieve stress. 

You were determined to change that. There was no reason you could not help him in any way you could. And in this aspect, you knew you could. 

Still, you were nervous. This would be new, he never did well with new. 

Your footsteps stopped, leaving only the sound of the wind in your ears. Until you pressed your badge against the card reader, listening to the beeps, to the gears unlock. 

Once inside the lobby, the clinking of your heels against the vinyl tile filled your ears. Each step matches the thumping in your heart, you find yourself speed walking.

 You smiled and gave a little wave to the staff in the lobby, and they returned it. 

In the elevator, the sound of its melodic music filled your ears next. The whirring background noise the machinery made, stopped, as you reached your desired floor. 

There was silence when you stepped off. The flooring is carpeted now, and soundproof rooms lined the hallway leaving the night quiet. 

You took a deep breath and made your way to the door you knew was your boyfriend's. It was unlocked, thankfully. 

You let yourself in, seeing the silhouette of your boyfriends back facing the door in the blue lighting. 

He was all about ambiance in this facet of life, having LED's lining the ceiling. The only source of light in the room, besides the glowing screens of his monitors. 

He was sat in his chair, headphones on, hood up, head nodding in tandem with his fingers tapping. 

You took the opportunity to slide your boots off. Opting to keep your coat on, you brushed your hair over one shoulder. You took your badge from around your neck, and tossed it on the leather couch that was against the wall. 

Padding your way over to him, you place your hand on his shoulder lightly. He tenses under your touch, and turns his head. He's frowning when he first faces you, eyebrow furrowed together. 

When he sees you though, he softens. The corners of his mouth slightly upturning to a small smile. 

"Baby..." He whispers, sliding his head phones off. Soft lofi music is filling the room from them. 

He grabs your hand off his shoulder, bringing it to his lips. He's pressing soft kisses to your palm, and placing it on his cheek. 

"It's late my angel, why are you here?" He says in a husky voice with more volume. 

Your heart flutters at his gentleness, and you bend down to press your own lips to the top of his head. A musky, yet spicy vanilla scent fills your nostrils. His scent. 

"I'm here to help you baby." You murmur to him softly. 

That caught his attention. He fully swivelled around to face you, taking both of your hands in his. He gazed up into your eyes, a curious look on his face. 

You smiled down on him, feeling nothing but love for this man. You'd relax him in any way you can. You placed a hand on each side of his face, bending down again. No more words were said as you kissed him. As your hands slid down his neck, his found themselves on yours, pulling you closer to him. Matching your eagerness.

You let your hands fully slide off him, and tilted your head to deepen the kiss. Your trembling fingers were working the buttons on your coat. One by one, releasing the fabric from your bare skin. 

You stood up, letting the coat fall from your shoulders.

Jisung lets out a soft gasp, and licks his lips. 

Exposed to him, was his favorite lingerie you owned. It was a bra and panty set, satin and lace. Revealing. 

All white. 

Your boyfriends favorite part. He always said that the contrast against your melanated skin was a work of art. He joked about commissioning Hyunjin, if he didn't have to see you essentially naked.

So here you stood before him, presenting yourself to him. Silently willing him to do as he pleases. To take your body and use you to decompress. You were too nervous to say it.

He traces the swell of your breast with a finger, curving around the delicate lace. It's a simple touch, but it still sends a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps blooming on your skin. 

"So sexy." He mumbles, eyes roving your whole body. 

He stands up, kissing you desperately, and walking you back to the couch. Your knees hit the back of it, and you're forced to sit. Lips ripping away from his, panting at the desire in his eyes. 

All your nerves were gone. New or not, it would never change the fact that Jisung craved you as much as you craved him. 

He held himself up with his hands on the back of the couch, and hovered above you for a moment looking you in the eyes. 

Then he was sinking to the ground, on his knees, between your legs. His hands smooth over your thighs, making them pliant with soft kisses, before he spreads them open. Your pussy is glistening behind the lace, and he licks his lips again. 

His hand glides from your thigh, to your heat. Thumb brushing against that sensitive bud, the friction eliciting a whine from you. 

His eyes snap up to you, and he holds your gaze as his tongue licks a stripe up your clothed core. The tip of it flicking deliciously against your sensitive clit. 

"Mmmm..." He groaned at the taste of you, "All for me?"

You moan at his tongue swiping against you again, and again, "All for you, my love." 

His fingers hook underneath the band of your underwear, and he peels them off you. He's whimpering, watching as strings of your arousal stick to them. The cool air is hitting your sex, before puffs of hot air from his mouth is. And you're shivering again at the sensation. 

A gasp escapes you when his tongue slides between your folds. Lapping up your juices, and suckling at that bundle of nerves. You listen to the wet sounds his mouth is making against you, along with the broken melody coming from his head set. You get lost in it. 

Your hand finds his hair, and you're grinding against his mouth. He's whimpering and moaning with you, one hand palming at his bulge. The other has fingers teasing your entrance. 

You let out a loud moan when two fingers push into you, and your grasp on his hair loosens. He takes the opportunity to get air, panting, mouth hanging open. His cheeks, chin and lips all shine in the dull blue light. 

His fingers continue to pump into you as he watches your face contort for him. He's smiling with lidded eyes, basking in the fact that he's making you feel so good. 

"Ji..." You moan, needing more.

"My beautiful baby, let me worship you a little longer." And he's diving back down.

His tongue focuses on your clit, and fingers coaxing that gummy spot inside you. He's pulling moan after moan from you, making out with your lower lips, bringing you closer to the edge. Your thighs start trembling around his head, and he has to grip the fleshy part of one of them to stop you from squeezing him before he's finished. 

You're spilling over the edge, body alight and your release coating his fingers, and face. He's lapping up every little bit, determined to taste your pleasure on his tongue. Only when you start to whine from constant overstimulation does he stop. 

He's kissing his way up to your lips, leaving a wet trail behind him that you couldn't bring yourself to care about. 

You're not sure when he managed to discard his pants and boxers, but you feel his hard, bare length pressing against your inner thigh. 

He's rubbing his member against your pussy now, letting your slick and his saliva cover him. Kissing your neck as he's rocking against you, he whispers, "Angel, do you have another one for me?"

Of course you did, you knew you did. You needed to feel him, you needed to please him. So you started nodding fervently, eyes rolling in the back of your head when he sucked lightly near your ear and jaw. 

He had a grasp of his cock now, dragging the head through your folds with added pressure. Each squelch of your juices sounds like music to your ears, anticipation building in your body.

"'Gonna make you feel s'good." He's whining into your neck. 

He has your legs around him now, as he fills you slowly, both of you savoring the sensations it brings. Your pussy spasms around him, and it has him grunting. 

"Always feel so good squeezin' me..." He mumbled, letting you adjust, "...exactly what I needed..." 

Then he was pumping into you, and you felt it. All the frustrations he was holding onto, all the stress, all the vexation. He was translating it into the energy he used to pleasure you. Letting go of it all. 

You couldn't hear the soft lofi music coming from his head set anymore, instead the slapping of skin and heavy breathing mixed with moans were filling the room. You'd never be more thankful for a soundproof space. Neither of you were holding back. 

Your moans only being interrupted by quiet curses, and his being peppered in between praises of how good you feel for him. He made it known he was chasing your high before his, begging you to cum for him. 

"Please angel," he whispers against your lips, "need to feel you cumming on my cock."

His pace became quicker as he kissed you, and his hand slithered down to play with your clit. Your back arched off the couch at that, angling him deeper inside you. He groaned, and his thrusts faltered for a second indicating he was close. 

Regardless he was determined to finish you, and his tone grew more demanding, "Be a good girl... cum for me, angel."

And that was all your body and mind needed to let go, legs locking around him and body shaking. Your hands slid under his hoodie, and nails dug into his back. It was the kind of intense orgasm, that your moan got stuck in your throat, instead a rough growl coming out. 

You sounded absolutely feral for him, and you were. 

That was what pushed him over the edge, a slew of curses leaving his mouth as his hips stuttered. With a final harsh thrust, he cums deep inside you. All of the negativity has dispersed from his body, and he collapsed back to his knees. 

You're both panting, trying to catch your breath. You jolt when you feel his fingers in your folds, over sensitivity taking over yet again. He's spreading you open, hypnotized by the way his cum is drooling out of you. 

"So perfect, fuck." He says as he drags his finger through it. 

He's bringing it up to your lips, and your mouth opens instinctively. You're sucking his finger into your mouth, his essence salty but familiar on your tongue. 

His eyes are locked to yours as you work his finger, licking it clean. He slips a second finger in your mouth, letting you cover them in your saliva before he dips back down for a taste himself. 

You're whining around his fingers when his tongue glides against your clit, and your hips try to retract into the couch. Quickly, he has both hands on your hips, securing you in place so he can continue tasting you. 

"We taste so good together, my love..." He's mumbling against you. 

His words will never fail to coax submission out of you.

Your hand flies back to his hair, as good as it feels you're trying to pull him away. He's just burying his face deeper, tongue dipping into your entrance to make sure he's tasting everything. 

"Ji... s'too much... I can't-" You're pleading, even though you feel yourself succumbing to the overwhelming brushes of his tongue.

He hisses when you finally succeed in pulling him off you, "Please angel," He's begging again, "Just one more. I know you have one more for me." 

"Fuck, Ji, I-" 

He silences you with his tongue flat against you, another lick up to your clit "Please, need to hear you cumming one more time for me." He whines and starts leaving sloppy, wet kisses on your pussy. 

You always knew he was more of a giver. That even though it was you who had cum twice, and he only once. He preferred it that way. Even if he was the one needing the release more, he thrived more on your pleasure.

"Just be gentl-" You try to say, but cut yourself off with a groan. 

He's eagerly slurping at your core. Lost in the moment, all he has is your pussy on his mind now. Messily licking and lapping at every inch. He's shaking his head and moaning into it, keeping you pinned in place by your hips. 

You feel another orgasm starting to build quickly, clenching around nothing. He risks you bucking your hips roughly into his face, and takes a hand off your hip. He's pushing two fingers into you yet again, and you're seeing stars. 

His fingers curl, and his lips close around your clit, sucking lightly. You feel your release slip away from you, and your cumming on his face again. Yelling his name. He only grows more determined.

He leans back so he can watch the beautiful, writhing, mess he reduced you to. The thumb of his other hand is replacing his mouth, continuously flicking your bud. He doesn't slow his movements as you ride out your orgasm, instead picking them up. 

Your world turns white, and you feel yourself squirt on his hands. He's watching you in awe, whispering more praise for you as your juices spray over him. 

"So fucking sexy, my good girl."

"That's it, let go for me, let it all go."

"Knew you had one more in you, all for me."

"My perfect angel."

It's when you start to slip into that floaty space that he finally stops. He doesn't want you too gone, he's limited in the care he can provide here.

He's positioning you to lay on the couch, and he's laying behind you. You're both wet and sticky, and heaving for air. Yet, it's blissful. 

You lay there for what could've been minutes or an hour, you weren't sure. You were content in each other's touch. Your arm reaches back to caress his head, fingers combing through his hair. He's humming. 

"I love you." You finally murmur. 

"I love you more, angel. Thank you for this." He says, and kisses your shoulder. 

"You caught on quickly to my idea." You giggled.

He laughed with you, "I caught on halfway through it, actually. I was just beside myself with desire for you." 

You blushed at that, and you were thankful he couldn't see it. 

"I mean you showed up in my favorite set..." He whispers and starts toying with the lace on your bra, his finger slipping underneath to flick your nipple, "In ONLY my favorite set. How could I not show you how much I admire you." 

You felt his length harden against you again, and he rolled his hips slowly as he gripped your hip. 

You knew the night was far from over. 

As for how you were both going to escape and clean up? Well that was a problem for future you. 

Taglist:

@eczlipse @sailor--sun @maisyyyyyy @jupire @prettiichocolateprincess

@meowmeowminnie @joyofbebbanburg @adieu-lisette @sleeping-beau-tay @staytinyluv

@lookitsjess @majorlymismanaged @kpopsstuffs @helloimacalumgirl @bbokarimenu

@bubblepop-stay @mauvemelon @ohhlittlegirl @ang4lheart @spnwinchestersd

@adieu-lisette @loud-minhoe @juwire @anylady-fics @antisocialties

@nebugalaxy @wowitsafemale

As always, please let me know if you'd like to join the taglist. And if you do, pretty please interact with my fics besides liking (ie; replying/commenting/reblogging). Although I will always appreciate liking as well! Feedback is always cherished! ♡

But again, please be gentle in your criticism! I am but a sensitive soul.

[qlossytbh]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 the time where you had just a little too much to drink after a party at rossis and spencer takes care of you

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 alcohol intoxication, drinking, reader gets sick, emetophobia, a bit of suggestiveness (?), lots of pet names, spencer’s a sweetheart.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.2k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 suffering a bit of a writers block but i am on a roll lately. it’s like ive got all these unfinished drafts and i can’t seem to finish them ugh. im going through my request, slowly but surely!

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Come on,” Spencer urged, wrapping a tight arm around you as you clung to his shoulder as if your life depended on it. God, your head was pounding and your own body felt like dead weight as you continued carrying yourself around.

You stumbled on your feet, too intoxicated to walk straight. The sharp stiletto heel that accompanied your dress was not working in your favor either, and they were frankly becoming quite painful.

“I need to sit down,” You slurred in a hushed yet collected manner.

“One second angel,” He whispered, reminding himself not to disrupt his neighbors.

It wasn’t your fault that Rossi's parties always consisted in a very sweet, very endless supply of the most exquisite cocktails you’d ever tasted. It’s not everyday you got to taste such bougie liquor and given your big sweet tooth, and Garcia’s pesky persistence to get you to follow along her alcohol tasting spree, all those free drinks were dangerous at your disposal.

Penelope had passed over this tart but perfectly sweetened strawberry drink she had encountered and you made the grave mistake of trying it. Just when the flavors melted in your mouth, you immediately made your way to the bar in search of your own, downing that one and three more in less than fifteen minutes.

In hindsight, that was a horrible decision. Spencer knew that if he had been glued to your hip, just like he usually was at these or any social event for that matter, he’d never let you drink as much and as fast as you did. He had nagged about something with rapid absorption and rapid increase in BAC— you were too drunk to remember any of the information he was dumping your way if you were being honest.

You began slowing down once the nausea and severe dizziness settled in. Usually, you knew your limits with alcohol. You knew how much got you drunk enough to loosen up, and you knew how much was too much, thanks to a few situations where you had to learn the hard way. However, something about the sweetness and the inability to taste any alcohol whatsoever threw you off your radar.

And here you are, dragging yourself against Spencer’s body and back into his apartment, too drunk to even walk and feeling like you were about to literally throw up any and every thing in your system.

Spencer pushed the door open, managing to balance you in his other arm as he unlocked the door swiftly. He walked in with you by his side, throwing the keys into the small metal dish by the door and now using both hands to keep you steady.

You remained quiet, trying desperately to focus on keeping the nausea down and not throwing up. “Spence,”

“What's wrong?” He asked, looking down at you as you dug your forehead into his chest, grappling at his shirt with a rough tug.

“I feel really sick,” The world around you was spinning and that pit in your stomach was getting harder to push down. He matted down the top of your tousled hair, tucking a few stray strands behind your ears.

“Do you need to throw up?” He asked, voice soft and comforting.

“I think so,” The nausea seemed to hit like a tidal wave, and all you needed was to lie down. You needed to lie down. Just the mention of puking was enough to get you to gag. Immediately freaked out and panicked, you gave a persistent nod, already pushing yourself off of him and making a very crooked B-line for the bathroom, knowing you were going to throw up.

Once past the bathroom door, you fell to your knees opening the lid of the toilet and hurling the contents of your stomach into it. You gagged, retching loudly while tears pricked the corners of your eyes and everything around you hurt.

Spencer followed closely behind, crouching beside you and pulling up your hair into a messy makeshift ponytail while his other came to rub comforting circles on your back, sitting through your discomfort by your side.

It was ironic really. Spencer had always been extremely opposed to anything germ related and this seemed to be his worst nightmare. If anyone knew about this, they’d probably not be able to believe how Spencer didn’t run in the opposite direction and quite literally ran right towards you and your germ related issues. Since he started dating you, he let certain things slide. He shared more of his personal space and didn’t mind if that included sharing things he wouldn’t tend to share around others.

He never thought twice about it if it brought you comfort. It came to him naturally, putting you and your comfort and happiness first.

You spit out the remaining acidic taste of bile into the toilet and groaned heavily. Your nostrils burned and so did the back of your throat, but all of the nausea was immediately alleviated from your system.

“Mhm, sexy,” You said, reaching over for a piece of toilet paper and wiping down your mouth. Spencer huffed a laugh through his nose, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “This is embarrassing.”

“This?” He said, voice jumping into one of fake shock. You threw a glare over your shoulder and his face immediately melted into a sweet smile, rubbing your back with just a bit more clarity. “I’ve seen you in worse predicaments,”

“How do you feel?” You turned, resting your back against the toilet after flushing the contents away and turning towards him.

“I feel better,” You mumbled, screwing your eyes shut and attempting to blink away the tears and the burning sensation of your nose.. “But I probably look very disgusting.”

He tilted his head with a shrug, wholeheartedly answering. “You don’t look disgusting,”

“Liar,” You said with narrowed eyes, smiling playfully.

He shook his head with one of his signature smiles, those that tugged slightly to the right and crinkled the corner of his eyes just perfectly. He reached up, grabbing the empty glass cup that sat on the side of his sink, and was now filled with water. He handed you the glass which you took without complaint. “Drink,”

You drank down the whole glass, wanting to get the disgusting aftertaste out of your mouth. “Better?”

“Much,” You nodded, smiling up at him, feeling instantly better but still dizzy. “I feel like, rejuvenated or something,”

You reached back to push yourself up off the ground, only for Spencer to set a firm hand on your shoulder keeping you still.

“Give yourself a minute,” He told you. “You feel better after vomiting following excessive alcohol consumption mainly due to the removal of alcohol and its irritating effects on the stomach, but you need a few seconds.”

You hummed, picking at a rhinestone on your dress. “Does that mean I should expel all my stomach's contents everytime I overdrink to feel better?”

“No,” He narrowed his eyes at you. “You shouldn’t even drink enough to get to the point of having to throw up in the first place, love,”

“But those strawberry drinks were so good Spence,” You threw your head back with a pout.

“Yeah, yeah,” He dismissed with a playful tone. He hooked his fingers around your elbows. “Up,”

You steadied yourself with a tight grip on his shoulders and winced at the bright white light of the bathroom. He pushed you back, knocking the back of your knees into the toilet and forcing you to sit down on it with a soft thud. He crouched down and reached over to knead at the straps of your heel and promptly remove them.

He set them to the side and wordlessly moved into his room, grabbing one of his spare t-shirts and making his way back into the bathroom, where you watched him with weary eyes and a very sleepy but adoring smile.

Everything felt fuzzy but just seeing him work his way around you with such ease made your heart beat insanely.

“It’s not fair that you’re so pretty,” You voiced. Spencer opened his mouth to answer but could only mustered a stammered chuckle, blushing profusely but trying to resist laughing at the slurring in your voice.

“I’m pretty?” He asked. You nodded.

“Very,” He reached his hands out, grabbing yours and pulling you up.

“Is it okay if I take your dress off?” He asked, turning you around so your back was facing him. His fingers skimmed across your already exposed shoulders and back and everything felt so heightened that you shuddered at the ghost of his touch.

“Thought you’d never ask,” You said, shooting him a suggestive smile over your shoulder. He said your name with a warning, not faltering in the slightest.

“I’m kidding!” For the most part at least.

“Well, given since you can’t sleep in this dress,” His calloused fingers traced your shoulders in a soothing rhythm. “I brought you one of my shirts but I need to take off your dress in order to put it on,”

Your body seemed to feel magnetized to the floor, pulling your every movement down with a huge weight. Which was probably the alcohol having its effect on you. You felt stupefied but all you could think of was just how tired you were.

“That’s fine Spence,” You murmured, allowing his fingers to skim down your shoulders and towards the dress's zipper. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to rest them while his hands moved around your back.

He pulled it down, all so gently and smoothly that you were growing even dizzier than you were with more than three cocktails in you.

“I love this dress,” You stated, watching as the sleeves loosened from your shoulders and began sliding down. The cold air hit your bare skin and you merely shivered as it fell and rested on the plush flesh of your hips.

“So do I,” He smiled, slipping his own shirt over your head. You huffed as he pushed the dress down your hips, allowing his shirt to fall over your upper body and cover you as best as it could while picking up the pool of fabric from the floor and laying it out against the toilet. “You looked very beautiful.”

You really did. The way that specific black sequined dress hugged your figure in every single angle and crease possible, flaunting off your body shape perfectly, made Spencer weak at his knees. He didn’t know how he didn’t drop everything the second he saw you to pull you elsewhere private and kiss you until neither of you could breathe.

“Looked? As in past tense?” You turned, facing him with a fake betrayal plastered across your features. “That’s rude,”

“You are insufferable,” He reached back, grabbing your spare toothbrush and putting a nice amount of toothpaste on it. “Now let me brush your teeth so I can kiss you,”

You surrendered your never ending teasing with a sigh, grabbing the hem of his shirt as he held your chin tenderly, brushing your teeth. Throughout the whole three minutes, you couldn’t hold back from allowing yourself to re-learn every single scratch and line on Spencer’s face, engraving its every detail and beauty into a small space in your brain.

Once he was finished and you had rinsed your mouth out with water, you were eternally grateful that the acidic taste in your mouth and lips had been replaced with a fresh minty one. “There,”

You hummed, pulling Spencer in by the said hem of his t-shirt and tilting your chin up towards him, smiling at him like an idiot. “Hi,”

“Hey,” His hands reached up, cradling your face tenderly in his palms, pouring any and every ounce of love he had in him onto you with a firm kiss.

“My legs are killing me,” You said, nuzzling your nose into his cheek and hugging his torso. He rubbed your back with a kiss on the top of your forehead. “I want to lay down,”

“I know but I need to get your makeup off, angel,” He murmured.

You groaned, needing to just get to bed or else you’d literally collapse “You specifically know that if you leave it on overnight, the buildup of makeup, along with dirt, oil, and pollutants that you collect on your skin throughout the day accumulates on its surface and can cause skin issues and breakouts.”

You narrowed a glare. “Yeah, yeah, I guess you’re right,”

“I always am,” He smiled proudly.

“Okay now you’re just pushing it,” He reached back, grabbing a makeup removing wipe from its respective package and dragging it very smoothly across your cheeks, lips, eyes and forehead— any part of your face he could get at. You shivered at the chilliness it gave your flared up cheeks.

Spencer was so gentle with you it made your heart swell in size at just how much attention and care he put into everything he did for you. If you weren’t as tired—and as out of it— as you were right now, you really would pull him down and kiss him anywhere (and everywhere) until your heart stopped beating as much as it was. Although realistically speaking the kissing would probably cause your palpitations to worsen.

He managed to get as much mascara off as he could but the waterproof substance stuck to the bottom of your eyes with a fierce grip. He tossed the wipe into the trashcan and quickly swiped his thumbs across the bottom of your eyes with a very docile brush.

“How do I look?” You said, narrowing your eyes with humor, knowing you probably looked absolutely disheveled. Spencer cocked a brow at you, reaching back and undoing the tie that held your hair into the gorgeous updo thing you had going on.

“Absolutely breathtaking,” He still said, pressing a chaste kiss to the bridge of your nose. His hands continued working at your hair, to which you let your eyes flicker close, resisting the uncontrollable urge to moan out loud as the pads of his fingers rubbed your irritated scalp soothingly.

“I’m sorry,” Your voice came out way more breathier than intended.

“What for?” He asked, letting his hands rest on the side of your neck.

“This,” It wasn’t exactly flattering— the state he had seen you in. And for some reason you felt embarrassed at the thought of him seeing you so exposed and in some shape or form. “I don’t know I feel like I made a fool of myself,”

He furrowed his brows. “I don’t know— I feel guilty that you have to take care of me.”

“But I love taking care of you,” He murmured, instilling such a delicate tone with you that it was impossible to feel uncertain about anything. “Don’t say sorry,”

He kissed you, perfectly, just like he always did. “If you say so,”

It was true. Spencer loved, absolutely treasured, moments where he could take care of you in his own special way. Be gentle and remind you just how much he absolutely loved you.

“Am I done now?” You huffed, slumping forward as all the bones in your body begged to sleep.

“Mhm,” He pulled back, scanning you entirely. “Good to go.”

[smutoperator]

Gold Medal

Shen Xiaoting x Male Reader

Tags: 69, (very) acrobatic sex, anal, bathtub, big cock, competition, creampie, do not try this at home, footjob, goddess-like, gymnastics, lube, Olympics, queefing, splits, squirting, wheelbarrow

Word Count: 4395

You never thought you would be able to go to the Olympics. Well, not as an athlete at least. But you managed to make it as an employer, working at the Olympic Village and seeing all those world famous athletes passing through you.

One day, while doing your job, you accidentally bumped into a Chinese gymnast.

"Ouch," the gymnast screamed as you hit her. "I'm sorry," you reacted. She looked quite upset, having to prepare for her final that would be held the following day, as she wanted to avoid any injuries, but held back her anger and accepted your apology.

You were very kind to the gymnast, asking her name shortly after. "Xiaoting," she said. "I apologize once again for my mistake; I didn't intend to injure anybody," you said. "It's fine; I'm a little stressed with the final coming up tomorrow. I really want to take a gold medal for my country, and I feel like I can do it, but it'll be quite difficult," she said.

"Relax, you are going to win it," you told her, despite being absolutely clueless about gymnastics. "I can't feel relaxed," Xiaoting said. "It's really nerve-racking; I really need someone to help me," she continued.

"Can I help you in any way, shape or form?" you asked her. "I guess here's a credential to the building I am at, and this is the number of my room; meet me there in a couple hours," she said.

Using the credential lent by Xiaoting, you went up the building, wondering if this wouldn't represent any security breach. There weren't many athletes around it, and the ones who were there didn't question your presence, so you just climbed upstairs.

You reached Xiaoting's room but were unable to find her. However, you noticed a trail at the floor, following the pathway that led you to the room's bathroom. There, you finally found her.

Xiaoting was relaxing in the tub, completely naked. "Good night," she politely said. "Guess you've been working so hard these days at the village," she continued. "Definitely," you replied, a bit embarrassed looking at this sexy Chinese gymnast.

Xiaoting stood up as you jumped on the tub, kissing her passionately. But the gymnast had different plans, showing her naughty side from the get-go and touching your cock while her lips touched yours. Xiaoting was quite strong but also very aggressive, making moves as they quickly took your shirt and pants off. In the gymnastics world, her specialty may be the balance beam, but today she wanted to work on a different pole.

The Chinese gymnast quickly jumped to suck your already hard cock, showing her prowess from the start. If there was ever a sex Olympic game, I guess she could compete for a medal as well. You carried her to the bedroom and were ready to have fun with her, knowing that she had taken the right measurements not to bother anyone and that you two wouldn't get busted in the middle of it. And wow, her body was perfect, and her doll face was amazing; you just couldn't believe it.

You kissed Xiaoting from head to toe, paying special attention to her tits and pussy. Quickly, you were licking her folds while she fully spread her legs. "Oh, I fucking love that tongue, yeah," she said as she moaned. "Let me rub my clit all over it; that's right, baby, that's fucking perfect," she continued as you worked your tongue around her clit.

You feasted all over Xiaoting's fully shaved pink pussy. "Get that tongue all around that clit," she instructed you as she kept moaning and showing her flexibility with her legs. "That's it; taste my pussy; I know you fucking love it," she said.

After eating Xiaoting out, you shoved a pair of fingers in her perfect pussy, giving the Chinese gymnast the pleasure she was craving for. "OHHHHHH YEAHHHHHH," she moaned as you finger-fucked her. "You really wanna make me cum, don't you?" she asked, her body now contorting as if she were presenting her gymnastics routine during a final. "OHHHHH, YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME CUM," she screamed, closing her eyes as you fucked her pussy hard just with your hands.

More kissing ensued as you paused your finger-fucking session of Xiaoting. She really felt relaxed and forgot about the challenge waiting for her tomorrow. You went back to lick her folds, extracting more moans from the gymnast, but you wanted to see now if she could also perform her acrobatics in bed.

"Sit on my face," you demanded of Xiaoting. As her pussy lips touched your mouth, you suspended her legs up in the air, with Xiaoting spreading them and planting her hands on the bed as she lined up her mouth against your big cock.

You thrust up Xiaoting's mouth, trying to test her if she could hold her balance while getting eaten out. Truth be told, this was quite easy for her. Sometimes mere mortals like you forget that Olympians are as close to a superhuman type as it can be, as Xiaoting took your pumps up her mouth fairly easily.

To spice things up, you decided to get more acrobatic, extending your arms as her body got completely suspended in the air. But instead, it was Xiaoting who was now bobbing her head on your cock, as you used all your strength to grab her legs while she could just do it with her gymnastic skills.

"Shit, oh my goodness," you exclaimed as Xiaoting took on your cock while facing down to the bed. Never underestimate an olympian, as Xiaoting truly executes the acrobatic 69 to perfection; even in bed, her athlete spirit means she's always aiming for the highest scores and the most flawless moves as possible, and indeed, she achieves it.

"Working on my fucking cock, baby," you tell her as you drop Xiaoting down and just let her freely bob her head on it. "Oh, I love diving on that big dick," she says, spitting on your cock and having lots of fun, testing herself with a sloppy blowjob, and taking all 9 inches of you deep in her mouth.

You flip Xiaoting around, taking her by surprise as she instinctively presses the palm of her hands against the bed. But that only motivates her, as Xiaoting grabs your cock and sucks it with even more enthusiasm, handling your attempts to fuck her beautiful doll face while feasting on her wet pink pussy, quickly taking control of the situation once again.

You quickly conclude you just can't beat Xiaoting at her own game, giving her free reign to put up a scorching performance in the bed. Xiaoting is truly a perfectionist, sucking your cock in every possible way, taking it into every corner of her mouth, and driving you insane. You slap her tongue to compliment her skills. "Oh my fucking goodness, baby, you're killing me; what in the actual fuck, you look so good choking on that dick," you say.

Xiaoting takes your cock like it's just another gymnastics apparatus. Blowing that massive pipe off just feels like a routing exercise to her, as she gracefully performs movements with her lower body while sucking it as if she were doing one of those floor routines.

"This dick is all mine," Xiaoting proclaims. "The only thing better than that cock in my pussy would be a medal on my chest tomorrow," she continues, licking your shaft from top to bottom as a warm-up. "You like how I take care of it?" she asks. "Yes," it's all you can answer, as Xiaoting tongues your balls and then climbs all the way up to the tip.

You play with her hot mouth, popping your cock in and out of it and trying to fuck her face. But Xiaoting remains unfazed, picking up some cold lube to pour over your tip. "Us gymnasts always like everything to be perfect, so I'm going to get this cock as ready as possible to put it in my pussy," she says. "Look how sexy it is all that lube dripping down that nice big cock," she continues, giving it a very slow massage.

"I'm going to feel every single inch of it; get that cock nice and ready; make sure it's dripping, just for me," Xiaoting whispers as she slowly runs her soft hands over your big shaft. "That's quite big; it looks like I have to use more than my hands," she says, wrapping her calloused feet right around your balls.

Xiaoting's rugged feet provide extra friction against your balls, sending you over the moon. "Ohhhh, yesssss," you groan. "I can feel all that cum building up in these balls all for me," Xiaoting says with a big smile on her face. "I know this cock is gonna fuck me good; bulge hard under my skinny belly; hope I don't get sore for tomorrow," she continues.

"You like having your cock between my soles?" Xiaoting asks, moving her feet up and down your shaft. "I need to squeeze it tighter, get it ready for this tight hole. Can you take it? Get it deep inside my pussy," she keeps asking.

"Oh, you're so fucking hot," you say as your cock is so big. Xiaoting is performing a handjob and a footjob at the same time on it. "Are you sure it's gonna fit?" she asks, still impressed with the size of it. "Are you sure it can handle such a tight hole?" she continues to ask questions while playing with that massive shaft.

"I can't wait for it to stretch me out; I want to get this cock nice and ready for my tight little pussy," Xiaoting says. "This pussy is gonna squeeze the life out of you," she continues. "And it's gonna be even tighter; you're gonna want it so bad; I know your cock is throbbing for that Olympic pussy," she keeps talking and driving you crazy.

"This is truly my lucky day; I couldn't ask for a better cock," Xiaoting keeps saying. But after a long tease, she finally says the words you were waiting for so long.

"Let me put this big nice cock inside me."

Xiaoting truly wasn't kidding about the tightness of her pussycat. As she opens her legs in a full split and descends down your shaft, you can already feel her walls squeezing it to the maximum, sucking the life out of it just as she promised. Honeslty, if you busted inside her right at this moment, you would already feel accomplised. Not many mortals get even close to an Olympian goddess pussy, let alone are able to cum inside one.

"Ahhhhh," Xiaoting softly moans as she finishes her descent into your pole. You can hear the queefing sound coming out of her pussy, as it completely traps your cock inside it now. Your shaft is completely surrounded by her meaty vaginal cavity from all sides. She starts slow, knowing your cock is quite well endowed compared to the ones she faces and at least double the size of her boyfriend's, whom she left at home to travel for the Olympics.

"That's it, baby, uhhhhh." Xiaoting moans louder as she performs a full split ride on your dick. You run your hands over her perky little tits and well-built gymnast body. Holy shit, what a beautiful girl she is. She could easily be a model if she wasn't an athlete, as you feel in awe with her goddess-like beauty.

Xiaoting grinds on your cock very sexily, using it almost as a training ground as she tries to find the right balance to sit on it with her legs fully spread. "I love feeling that cock so fucking deep in me," she says, closing her eyes and letting out more soft moans.

Xiaoting speeds up the pace of her ride. "My pussy missed this so much; I haven't had such a big cock in a long while," she says. You increase the degree of difficulty of her ride, playing with her clit as she tries to bounce on your cock. "You know exactly what I like, don't you?" she asks.

The gymnast rotates her body around your shaft, adding further pressure to it as her walls tighten even more. "You like how I massage this cock with my pussy?" Xiaoting asks, moving her body to the side while still bouncing on it and remaining with her legs fully spread, forcing you to stop not to cum as her walls hitting your tip make up for an extremely tingling sensation that wasn't going to make you able to last for long.

You kiss Xiaoting as she passes her first routine with flying colors. "You want more?" she asks. Of course you do. Now the question is a different one; it is if you can handle more, wondering if a regular guy like you has what it takes to take on an Olympic athlete in bed.

"Holy shit," Xiaoting says as she keeps riding your cock, marveling at its size. But like the elite athlete that she is, she is ready to take on any challenge, bouncing hard on it in reverse cowgirl as you get a perfect look of her well-shaped ass, making your cock disappear from your view every time she moves down your shaft.

"I love fucking a big cock like that," Xiaoting affirms as more queefing sounds come out of her cunt. "I love watching that cock slide in and out of my pussy, yessss," she continues. 

It doesn't take long for Xiaoting to get another perfect score in her sex routine, bouncing on your cock until she manages to squirt, full of bliss as she reaches her orgasm with your tip hitting her cervix constantly. "Give me more, give me more," she says in a whispering voice as she creams herself all over that big cock.

Xiaoting's cunt keeps queefing nonstop. If there was a competition of pussy queefing, she would already get the gold medal she will be fighting for tomorrow. "That cock feels so fucking good, AHHHHHHHH," Xiaoting says as she squirts again, this time harder than the first one. Does she also want another medal for squirting? Maybe. Heck, it feels like she's going to sweep all the golds from this sex olympic competition, getting another one from the tightness of her pussy, as she forces you to rescue yourself by pouring lots of lube over your shaft just to be able to handle those clenching walls that are wreaking havoc on your cock.

"Your dick is amazing," Xiaoting compliments your cock as she remains addicted to sit on it and ride it as hard as possible. You slap her beautiful, sexy ass while she does it, but I guess this only means she gets even higher points for execution. "I love when you spank me; I love when you hit my ass; I love when you hit me deep in my pussy; that cock is magic," she keeps saying.

Xiaoting manages to cum three times just by riding your cock, but now she's ready for you to prove you can match her sex skills, spreading her legs so you can fuck her pussy in missionary position. But before you do that, you massage her clit until she blasts another massive fountain of squirt.

"Let me taste all those juices. You want a gold medal for that? For being a slutty squirt machine," you poke her as she coats your face full of it. "I want this cock so fucking bad inside me," Xiaoting says.

"Then say it all loud," you demand. Xiaoting obliges, screaming for moure of your big cock bulging under her olympian body. "Please, please, give it to me," she begs, her legs fully spread all the time and ready for that big dick.

"Yes, yes, yes, AHHHHH, AHHHHHH, that cock fills me up so fucking much, holy shit," Xiaoting says as you pound her hard in the bed, giving you a naughty stare. "You like those legs spread wide open for you, don't you?" Xiaoting asks as you use all your energy to fuck her, truly showcase the difference between mortal men and Olympians, as she, on the other hand, barely breaks a sweat during this intense sex session.

"Fuck that pussy, see how open you can spread it," Xiaoting demands as she pushes you to the limit, her athlete mentality showing off even during sex. You keep pounding her, meeting her demands to stretch her cunt as hard as you can. "I love watching that cock going all the way deep inside me, bulging under my tummy," she says. "I know you love this tight fucking hole; you love when I cum all over that big cock, fuckkkk," she continues.

Following another orgasm that ends another part of her routine, Xiaoting is ready for more. "Are you gonna destroy this pussy?" she asks, getting on her feet for the next phase of her sexercise. 

"If you love how much I opened my legs, baby, you're gonna love it even more when I do this," Xiaoting says, pinning her body against the wall and standing in one leg, lifting the other one until her ankles are over her head. "I want you to take on this tight little pussy and make it cum again," she commands. You already feel exhausted, and Xiaoting has only executed the easiest elements of her routine. Now, if you want to share this gold medal with her, you'll have to step your game up.

You lift Xiaoting's body up and carry fuck her. Even with her legs completely in the air, she still manages to massage your balls, daring you to cum inside her. "If you cum before I ask, you'll get disqualified," she pranks you. Her balance is truly otherworldly (well, that makes sense; she's a gymnast competing at the Olympics, isn't she?) as she bounces on your cock with ease and even puts a couple fingers up her asshole for good measure.

"You stretch me out so fucking good," Xiaoting praises your cock, getting even more acrobatic as her legs get on the side of your head, and she uses the walls as an impulse, riding your cock at an insanely difficult position, unafraid of falling down, as she lets her love for cock overake any fear she might have. She's fallen down multiple times, but now she's finally ready to take that gold medal and wants to show it.

Xiaoting drops down right where her tits land exactly at your face, letting your suck them as she performs another difficult exercise. You wrapped her legs on your arms as she stayed with your cock deep in her cunt and her fingers deep in her asshole, staying there until she finished yet another flawless execution in her quest for her gold medal.

Back with her feet on the ground, Xiaoting turns around and lifts her legs up again. "Right in that tight ass," she demands. It would probably be an ill-advised decision to perform anal sex the day before a final for a gymnast, but Xiaoting doesn't care. Her tight holes are made of steel, and right now she's searching for a different kind of gold medal. And you oblige, taking your big cock right up her butthole with her right leg lifted up in the air.

"AHHHH," Xiaoting screams as you start pounding her ass at fist, but quickly manages to adjust. "Yes, right there," she whispers as your cock stretches it out. She knows it's her anal acrobatics that will earn her the gold. "Fuck that tight ass just like that; give it to me; take every inch of that cock in my ass," she keeps demanding.

You fuck Xiaoting's ass hard and deep, in the perfect pace, sending her over the moon as her cunt squirts all over the floor as she masturbates it. "It's so fucking good," she says as your balls clap her clit and she ascends to heaven, not losing her balance at any second. "Fuck that tight ass so good, keep going; I want more; give it to me good; use this tight asshole," she continues. 

The clapping sounds of your balls against her skin drive Xiaoting crazy. "Keep going until you make me cum," she commands. Your hard thrusts are probably the best exercise she's gonna get to keep the balance she needs for her performance tomorrow, as Xiaoting shows her crazy flexibility and anal sex skills to you.

Xiaoting has to hold herself by a handlebar in the wall as you increase the pace of your thursts. "Give me more, AHHHH," she moans, her legs spread in a perfect 180 degree angle, that only gets ruined when you manage to make her cum.

"You're gonna lose some points for this," you prank her as she closes her legs. "Then I'm gonna make up for it," Xiaoting says, switching sides and offering her ass for you to spank while you fuck it hard and deep.

Xiaoting's asshole gets even tighter when you spank her butt, offering you extreme resistance to dig deep inside it. Damn, you didn't know Olympians truly had holes made of steel; that's indeed very superhuman of them. "Harder, harder," Xiaoting demands as you keep pushing yourself to the fullest while she barely flinches even after multiple hard thrusts up her butthole.

"You've got such a perfect big cock; use it to make me cum," Xiaoting demands as you spank her ass hard, frustrated with yourself as you are exhausted after just 5 minutes of assfucking her, having to kiss her to recover your breath as Xiaoting earns a perfect 10 on the art of anal sex, dropping on her knees to taste her hole shortly after and pushing your cock to the limit with her warm throat. 

"OH MY GOD," you scream as Xiaoting fucks your cock with her face to the extreme, giving you a very loud and sloppy blowjob that ends on another perfectly executed deepthroat. At this point, you can barely stand on your feet, as Xiaoting's tight holes have, just as she promised, sucked the life out of you. But it isn't over yet.

"Can I show you something?" Xiaoting asks as she saves her toughest move for last, knowing that she has to push her limits to earn that gold medal. She has never performed that move before, and when she puts her hands on the floor, flipping herself around and getting upside down as you grab her legs just as she starts spreading them, getting ready to perform a much more difficult variation of the wheelbarrow position. 

You put your cock back in Xiaoting's ass as she makes lots of effort to keep her balance. Now she's finally using her olympian powers to the fullest, taking an upside-down pounding with the entire weight of her body placed on her hands. Sex fully meets gymnastics, as Xiaoting knows that if she completes that move, she will earn that medal.

And she does it perfectly, even bouncing her ass against your hips once you free her legs from the grasp of your hands. You wouldn't even know such a sex position was even possible and definitely wouldn't try it at home, but an olympian goddess like Xiaoting handles it like a pro, ready to make history and put herself among the legends of gymnastics and the legends of sex at the same time.

"You're such a sexy whore; you're a gymnast, but I bet you could be a pornstar too," you tell Xiaoting. "Ahhh, fuck, keep pounding my ass," she says. "You want to win a gold medal tomorrow? Tell me," you ask her. "Yes, baby, and I'm going to do that, OHHHH YES," she says, stopping to moan a bit.

You keep fucking Xiaoting's tight ass, pounding it harder and harder to see for how long she can handle such an acrobatic fucking. Her whole body quivers; she closes her eyes, ready to cum again. "AHHH YES, AHHH YESSS," she moans.

"I want you to put all that cum inside me; fill me up with that huge load; fill my ass with that warm cum; I want it so bad; I want to feel that cock throbbing when it cums for me; let my pussy milk all that cum for you." Xiaoting demands and surely gets it, as her clenching asshole is enough for you to finally give in and fill it to the brim. "That's a perfect execution," she says. "Just as I asked," she continues.

You are completely drained, but to Xiaoting, this was just yet another training session. "Here, some tickets for you to watch the gymnastics finals tomorrow if you want to see me again," she says. "Sure," you reply, taking the tickets she offered you.

On the next day, you arrive at the arena to watch Xiaoting, who is the first to perform. You already knew she was pretty, but she looks even more beautiful and goddess-like in her gymnastics attire. She isn't one of the favorites, many considering her a long shot to even get a medal, let alone a gold. But Xiaoting puts up the performance of her life on the biggest stage, getting a score she had never before. The pressure is on her opponents now. The unpredictable nature of the balance beam competition is adding extra tension. One by one, the other finalists present their performances, but Xiaoting keeps a strong grip on the top of the leaderboard as they fail to unseat her. What seemed impossible when she entered that arena was just a few minutes away from happening, as the final gymnast performs and can't top her result.

Shen Xiaoting is an Olympic gold medalist.

She bursts into tears of joy, looking at the crowd as your eyes cross paths with each other. You indeed had gone to see her. She smiles when she sees you. The podium ceremony comes next, as Xiaoting receives her gold medal and the Chinese national anthem starts to play at what ended up being one of the biggest upsets in Olympic history.

But in that crowd, you were the only one who knew this wasn't Xiaoting's first gold medal. She had won one just yesterday. And you were an integral part of it.

[velaryqns]

Could you do a House fanfic where after failing at treating a patient, House takes his stress and anger out on the reader? She then considers quitting being a doctor. House is confronted by Dr. Cuddy and his team, causing him to go comfort and apologize to the girl.

Uncontrolled Anger

Gregory House x Female Reader (I took it romantically for fun)

Universe: House MD

Summary: Maybe you should have known better than to question House about his feelings.

Warnings: Patient death, mentions of addictions, angst

You sat silently, your eyes on the dead body in front of you. You had watched as the team fought to help the man, all for it to fail after multiple misdiagnoses and wrong solutions. You, being a doctor, knew what they were going through. You’d gone through it a few times with your patients.

Sighing, you rest a hand on Taub’s shoulder, offering him a reassuring smile. He returned it, then watched you go as you made your way out of the room and eventually wandered to House’s office. When you reached the glass door with his name on it, you stood silently for a moment with your arms crossed. He had one hand in a fist by the side of his head and the other filling out paperwork.

You brought your hand down to the handle, allowing yourself into his office. You took a few paces, then turned your attention to the big yellow chair by his bookshelf. You lowered yourself into the chair, watching him silently for a moment.

“How are you?” You asked gently, not wanting to annoy him while he was in the middle of scribbling on the sheet.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say,” he muttered, still keeping his gaze away from you.

“You could at least say that you’re okay,” you said to him, tilting your head slightly as you shook it. You knew he handled emotions horribly, in ways that often required you to intervene, “Greg—“

He slammed the pen down and looked at you. And you could see why he had been avoiding your gaze to begin with, “You’re not a therapist. In fact, you’re presently the reason I could end up needing one. I just want some peace and quiet because excuse me for not being Doctor Y/N Y/L/N.”

“What —“ You cut yourself off, truly hurt by his words. His blue eyes held no remorse for what he said, and you quickly stood and left the room. You bumped into Chase, but ignored him entirely as you made your way down the hall with the intention of going to the elevator.

As you stood silently in the elevator, waiting to go down to the main floor to leave for the evening, you processed why you continued to try and support the man that. You stared at the metal doors, jaw clenched as you finalized your decision.

You didn’t want to work in the same building as someone like Greg House. Cuddy wouldn’t fire him, he’s too good.

Once you reached the main floor, you went to the clinic, seeing if there was any help you could offer and breathing a sigh of relief when you were able to step in. You dove into working throughout the clinic, waiting patiently to be able to talk to Cuddy about what was going on.

You filed patients in and out of the room you were using, only stopping for nurses to clean and sterilize everything between each patient. However, your consistent flow was ruined by Foreman's sudden intrusion into the room. You stared at him.

"Do you need something? Because I would like to treat my patients," you informed him.

"Just checking on you," he shrugged, tucking his hands in his pants pocket and leaning against the door, further preventing you from leaving the room, let alone treating your patients.

"I am fine," you muttered, tossing a file on the counter and crossing your arms. You leaned against the counter, "I am tired of him behaving like a child; I never thought I'd consider leaving my position because Cuddy refuses to fire House."

"I can talk to her for you,"

"Not worth it," you shook your head, "Now can you please go?"

Foreman was reluctant for a moment, but then nodded his head and walked out of the room. Your next patient came in, and you returned to your job.

Little did you know, Foreman was taking matters into his own hands despite your protests. The team liked you, there was no denying it, so of course he turned to Cuddy because of what you'd said. It was hard to believe, especially when you typically had a strong relationship with House, even when he was being childish.

House was in his office when Cuddy went search for him, her hands on her hips. He stared blankly upon her arrival, a frown on his face as he waited for what she had to say.

"You're going to make her quit,"

"Her?" House asked, shaking his head and shrugging as he waited for an elaboration. He looked toward the office door to see the team staring at him with disapproving looks, which caused him to sigh and roll his eyes, "Y/n's choices are not my fault."

“You’re pathetic,” Cuddy muttered. House shrugged. To him, there was no point in denying it. Cuddy clenched her jaw, “I thought you liked her!”

“She’s ear grating, like you,” Lisa frowned and House shrugged once more.

“I can’t lose another good doctor because of your antics, House,”

She spun on her heel and marched out of the room, leaving House to his own thoughts.

It was early in the evening, you’d showered and done some dishes, when there was a knock on your door. You were less than enthusiastic to open it, especially after peering through the hole to see House on the other side. He leaned on his cane lazily, a bag of what was clearly takeout food in his other hand as he looked down at you.

“What do you want?”

“I come bearing food,” he held the back up to emphasize his point.

You rolled your eyes and moved to slam the door in his face, but it made contact with his cane instead. House let himself in, limping toward your couch and plopping on it. The smell of the Chinese takeout hit your nose, making your mouth water as you pushed the door shut the rest of the way and turned to face the man on your couch.

“What do you want?” You repeated, less than enthused and lacking the emotion you usually had when speaking to House.

“Not a lot of hospitals would be willing to take you,” he spoke matter of factly. He dug into the brown paper bag, pulling out bulls of food and beginning to eat out of his own, “Foreman struggled to get a new job when he had to leave—“

“Foreman was accused of malpractice, and caught,” you reminded House.

“Malpractice is a common occurrence in this hospital, you think any other Dean would hire someone who’s worked with me? You’re poorly mistaken, Dollface,”

“You’re a piece of shit,” you spat, shaking your head and storming into the kitchen, “You know that?”

“I just call em like I see em,”

“If you don’t have anything genuine to say, then leave,”

There was silence, and then you heard your couch creak as he got up. Good, he got the point. That was what you thought until you heard his cane moving across the linoleum floor of your kitchen. You turned to see Greg House standing over you, and you gulped.

“What do you expect me to do here?” He questioned.

“Oh I don’t know, apologize?” You countered, side stepping him to grab a glass from a cupboard, “I was helping you. Making sure you were okay and not going to do something stupid after losing a patient — but apparently that wasn’t good enough, hm?”

“Y/n—“

“No, all I wanted to do was help you,” you faced him, “everybody in that damned hospital does what they can to help you, and this is how you repay us? That’s real shitty, House.”

House. Unlike everyone else, you rarely used his last name when talking to him. When speaking of him, sure, when in professional settings, almost always. But never in the privacy of you two or amongst friends. That’s when he realized the reality of what he’d caused.

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” he spoke, taking a step toward you. He leaned his cane on the counter and placed his hands on your waist. You didn’t move your arms from your sides, merely looking into his blue eyes to see if he was being genuine.

It seemed too good to be true.

“Accept the apology before I’m forced to take it back,”

And there it was.

“You’re a pain in my ass,” you muttered, moving your hands to rest on his biceps. House squeezed your waist, knowing that he got what he wanted. You rose to your tip-toes, your lips just barely touching his before you pulled away, “Now come on: that take-out is calling my name.”

[pipwritesoccasionally]

two little lines

toji x reader

in which you find out that you're pregnant and fear toji's reaction.

because of pregnancy this is technically an AFAB!reader, but I did my best to keep it gender neutral. though I did use the pet name "doll" (sorry it feels so toji), and I don't exactly know if it's gender neutral.

despite this technically being AFAB, if you're AMAB and want to read I am not here to yuck your yum.

wc: 1551

look at me mixing it up with a toji fic after three straight nanami fics!

pt. 2 pt. 3

______________________________________________________________

two little lines. all it took to seemingly destroy your entire life was two little lines on a pregnancy test. 

sure, it had been two months since your last period, and sure, you were in a long-term relationship, so pregnancy was something that was technically plausible. however, you just couldn’t fathom how you had been so careless. i mean, having two kids was enough, but a third? 

no, your husband was definitely going to leave you, and the thought of it made your heart clench. 

‘fuck,’ you thought, vision blurring. ‘everything is just going to end because of two stupid fucking pink lines?’ 

you’re lucky toji was off on some other random bounty hunt, giving you time to hide the test before going to pick megumi and tsumiki up from school. the floorboards creak as you run to the kitchen, throwing the test in the box with your favorite snacks, knowing toji would never look inside it.  

silence fills the house, creating a sharp juxtaposition with the pounding of your heart echoing in your ears. there has to be some way to calm down before going to get your stepkids. you tried everything you could think of, from splashing cold water on your face to walking around to holding an ice cube in your hand, until eventually you got to a point where you felt like you could pretend. 

keys, wallet and stress in hand, you got in the car and headed to their elementary school. the kids were there, standing on the curb, and you waved as you approached. there seemed to be an argument before tsumiki opened the passenger-side door, megumi grumbling as he slid into the backseat. 

“how was school?” you asked, and the kids scrambled to talk about what they learned, from the different types of clouds to their times-tables. 

“it was super fun and the teacher said that we have a new project coming up about the types of clouds! we get to make diaramas of them and it sounds really fun!” tsumiki exclaims, the smile evident in her voice. 

“that does sound fun! you’ll have to tell your dad all about it when he gets home,” you feel your brows furrow at the mention of toji, but you quickly resume your role of the happy guardian so as not to cause any problems. 

the house comes into view minutes later, and megumi runs inside. you turn to get out before tsumiki sighs softly. 

“wait,” she says, and you turn to her. “is something wrong?” 

‘curse her for being so observant,’ you think, but you shake your head quickly. 

“nothing for you to worry about, just worried about your father, as always,” which technically is not a lie, just not fully the truth. 

“oh, well you know that he’ll be okay! he’ll be back and then he’ll stomp around the house talking about those ‘damn sorcerers’-” tsumiki deepens her voice to imitate her father, but you stop her. 

“hey! watch your language!” she opens the door and runs inside, laughing the whole way, and you smile softly. you really do love those kids, even if they aren’t yours by blood. 

the house is cold when you enter, and you make your way towards the thermostat. however, before you can even turn the temperature up, a sour taste climbs up your throat. you feel sweat drench your brow, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’re going to throw up. 

you run up the stairs, throwing yourself in front of the toilet to empty your stomach. footsteps pad up the stairs, and you feel a little hand rubbing against your back. 

“(y/n)? are you sure you’re okay?” tsumiki’s soft voice brought tears to your eyes, more running down your cheeks as you retched. it took a minute or two to get everything out of your system before you sit back on your heels. 

“sorry, i guess i’m a little sick. we should have some microwavable meals in the fridge, do you think you could make some food for you and megumi?” she nods, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more. 

‘he’s going to find out soon,’ you worry, brushing your teeth to rid the awful taste from your mouth. ‘i guess i should get some rest so i don’t have to face him when he comes home.’ 

you sink into your shared bed, blankets reaching out to hug your body, and you drift off to sleep. 

the bed sinks, pulling you out of your slumber. you begin to turn to face your husband before you’re reminded of the events from earlier. your pulse is rapid, and you think about pretending that you’re still asleep before toji speaks. 

“hey doll. ‘miki said that you weren’t feeling well earlier. you’re not hurt, are you? i can handle whoever it is for you.” you smile at the softness he only displays for you, but how can you explain that the person causing you stress is none other than him?

“i’m okay. it’s probably food poisoning or something. you did cook dinner last night,” he frowns, groaning lowly. 

“i’m not that bad. the brats said it was fine enough,” you laugh at him, burrowing into the blankets. your husband slides his shirt over his head, revealing his broad shoulders riddled with muscles and scars. mindlessly, you reach out to caress him softly, and he slides into bed beside you. while normally you’d ask to lay on his chest, you’re worried being that close would make him aware of your irregular pulse. 

“goodnight babe,” you say, curling back into yourself and closing your eyes, knowing that if you look at him now his confusion would cause the truth to tumble out. 

“night doll,” he hesitates, weight settling in on the other side of the bed. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

you wake up to a quiet house, something that sets you off immediately. two elementary school aged kids does not bode well for a quiet house, and so you sit up, reaching to your right to find toji’s side of the bed cold to the touch. 

‘okay, something’s up.’ 

you walk down the stairs to the kitchen, calling out for the kids, only to see that their shoes aren’t by the door. toji’s in the kitchen, looking through the fridge. 

“hey babe, where are the kids?” you normally get them off to school, but it seems that maybe you’d slept in late. 

“they’re at school,” he says shortly, taking you aback. 

“okay. sorry i slept in, i must have been really tire-” you stop when you step into the kitchen, seeing your positive pregnancy test on the counter. the whole world freezes, and you can feel everything crashing down. 

“oh that? yeah, it was weird. i tried to bring your favorite snack to you in bed when the box was making a weird sound. found that at the bottom.” he gestures haphazardly, cracking the dam holding the next wave of your anxiety back. 

“it’s a friend’s-”

“don’t bullshit me. were you even going to tell me?” his voice is low, eyes piercing. 

“toji-” 

“were. you. going. to. tell me.” he enunciates. 

“i didn’t know how! i mean seriously, you have two kids to worry about, the last thing you need is a fucking baby! i get it, it’s over. i’ll go get my shit,” tears are running down your cheeks as you tear out your heart with your bare hands. you turn to leave, making your way upstairs, when a hand grabs your wrist softly. 

“wait–doll. fuck.” he turns you to face him. “you don’t have to leave.” 

“of course i fucking do. should probably go now before the kids get back. i don’t want them involved.” you take another step, but his grip remains firm. 

“i said you don’t have to leave. the brat’s mine too.” 

“wait. you want to keep it?” he looks to the side, rubbing his other hand against his neck. 

“of course i fucking do,” he mirrors, and your eyes widen. 

“you mean…you’re not mad?” 

“i’m mad you didn’t tell me, not about the brat.” your eyes water, and before you know it you’re sobbing into his chest. 

“what is this all about? you really have such a low opinion of me to think i’d kick you out?” his voice rumbles through his chest against your ear. 

“you’re just so busy, and i thought…i thought that you would be mad,” you sob even harder, not knowing where the emotions end and hormones begin. 

“so what? i’d just kick you to the curb?” 

“i mean, you have two kids already…maybe a third would be too much.” he starts to chuckle, causing you to pull away from him. 

“what’s so funny?” 

“that you seriously thought i’d kick you out. i don’t break promises, doll, and marriage is just a big promise. besides, you’d probably get custody of the brats. they like you more than me.” 

you run your hands over your face before reaching out to play with his hair. 

“you’re really not mad?” you repeat, and he rolls his eyes.

“no dumbass. besides, i can’t let any other men see how hot you are carrying my kid.” you snort, circling your arms around his neck to pull him closer. 

“love you, toji.” 

“love you too, doll.” he says, your lips meeting.

[yoonia]

blooming wallflowers (m) | knj

⟶ Summary | Your life has been in shambles with only your two sweet girls keeping you strong enough to carry on. It has been a while since the flame of desire you once had within you dim into almost nothing, until the man who spends his life fighting against arson comes into your life (and your two little girls’) only to help light up that fire once again

⟶ Title | Blooming Wallflowers ⟶ Pairings | Kim Namjoon x older female reader  ⟶ Genre | Firefighter!Namjoon, Single mother!reader, Smut, Angst ⟶ Word count | 20,800 words ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; allusions of past/toxic relationships, healing, usage of alcohol and drinking, dealing with insecurities, age gap with older female reader (OC is in her mid-30s), trapped in confined spaces; contains explicit smut scenes, including: sexual tension, dirty talk, light restraint, soft dom!Namjoon, switching positions and roles (OC taking control at some point), clothed foreplay, grinding, dry humping, thigh riding, implied body worship, breasts play, fingering, clit play, pussy slapping, riding, grinding, semi-public sex (does dining room count?), pet names, groping, biting, edging, oral sex (female receiving), minor hand-job, panty ripping, clit biting, panty sniffing, praise kink, hair pulling, rough sex, protective sex, multiple orgasms, forced orgasm, overstimulation.  ⟶ Author’s Note | Written as a commission for @KimCheeHoo | I’m so sorry this took me forever to finish. Thank you so much for commissioning me and for your endless support. I hope you’ll enjoy this story. Have fun reading!  ⟶ Story Note 1 | Written in 2nd person POV (in case you’re new to my writing, I don’t use ‘y/n’ coding as all of my lead characters are considered as OCs). This story has POV switches, and this is roughly edited, so forgive me for any mistakes. Banner design made by me, age warning divider by @/cafekitsune | Posted in: September 25th, 2024 by @yoonia

⟶ Also written as part of the @bangtanwritershq “Got A Secret, Can You Keep It?” Third Quarter 2024 writing event! ⟡ AU type: Hold Me Tight - Dilf/Milf AU ⟡ Themes: Age Gap, Situationship ⟡ Inclusions: Edging, Fingering, Angst/Hurt, Restraints

⟶ Music companion | Blue Rain, Make You Mine ⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Taglist | Ko-fi | Commission  ⟶ Read on AO3 ⟶ Short story: Dinner with Mista Joonie

On some days, you would feel like you are finally getting your shit together. 

But today is not one of those days. 

“Mommy! Hana is trying to bite me!” You hear your oldest whine as she hugs the pancake batter box to her chest. Shaking your head, you can only guess that her sister has been trying to take that box away from her hands. 

“No, I did not!” Hana, your youngest daughter argues back, “Mommy, Suzy won’t let me use the scanning thingy.” 

Suzy narrows her eyes and scoffs. She has been doing this expression a lot lately. It took you weeks after you first saw her making such an expression to figure out that she had somehow gotten it from you. Hana’s new biting habit, however, is something that you have yet to figure out how and when it started. 

“You’re such a baby,” Suzy says, rolling her eyes, which only riles up her sister more.  

“I am not!” 

“Yes, you are. That’s why you can’t do this. Babies don’t do what grown-ups do.” 

Sullen, Hana props her hands on her hips and lifts her chin, as if it would make her look bigger against her sister while whining, “But you’re not a grown-up too!” 

Watching them go at each other, you cannot decide whether you want to laugh or cry. 

Hana’s attitude reminds you of someone. You, perhaps, no doubt as the only role model she currently has to copy some of that sassy attitude from. You probably should feel embarrassed—deep down, you do, you are somewhere in public, after all—as the girls continue fighting, their voices loud enough to draw some attention, with the addition of being super dramatic about it. 

Only for them to have a turn at helping you with the self-checkout counter. 

You know the reason why you cannot find it in you to be mad at them. Not when the girls are showing you that they are the perfect carbon copy of you—not that you are the kind to have a tantrum in the middle of the supermarket, at least not at this age—and when they are always full of surprises. And you cannot deny that they are so stinking cute. 

Suzy, the bigger one out of the two, is mostly quiet and sweet. As a six-year-old girl, only weeks away towards her seventh, she often makes people think that she is a bit older than she truly is with how calm she acts around others. Until recently, she has always been so shy. But that is only until the moment her little sister starts acting out and then she would react so strongly to her tantrum—just like what she is doing now. 

Hana, on the other hand, is more brave and confident, and a bit too smart for her own good. Always so curious and mischievous, and always loves to copy whatever her big sister is up to. And she is always so headstrong that nothing can stop her whenever she wants something. 

She just turned four, and you were sure that she could barely speak full sentences just a year ago. That period of time feels so long ago as you watch her arguing with her sister, with perfect sound of mind, clear words and reasonings, a sign that she is growing up a bit too soon. 

“Girls, please stop screaming at each other,” you try to calmly separate them. 

You have no idea what is happening. Normally, your girls would know perfectly well how to behave. They take great pride in being your ‘little helpers’ and it isn’t rare for you to bring them with you when you are out buying groceries. 

For some reason, they have been like this all day. Constantly arguing and making a fuss over everything. Even to the smallest things. 

“You can take turns using the scanner. Let Suzy finish scanning the pancake batter, then you can do yours, Hana. Here—” 

Reaching into the shopping cart, you grab the box of cookies that you don’t remember placing inside the cart and try to hand it over to Hana. Only for it to slip out of your hand when both Suzy and Hana try to reach for it. Both insisting on taking it and having their turn. 

“Motherfucker,” you mutter under your breath as the box slides on the floor, and both girls immediately launch into another series of arguments, blaming each other for dropping the box and getting you angry. 

Tears are pooling in the corner of your eyes, and the quick switch of your mood isn’t unnoticeable for your girls as they both grow still. As if they are expecting you to snap. You bite your lips, trying your best not to. 

Just as you take a deep breath to compose yourself, a shadow comes to your side, picking up the fallen box and handing it to you.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice speaks, snapping you out of it, only to pull you into a dreamy trance the moment you get a look at his face and see his smile. The dimple on his cheek distracts you from your distraught that your mind becomes numb for a moment. 

“Hi there, do you need any help?” 

“Uhm, not really. It’s fine,” you answer, barely getting a word out when it feels like your brain has short-circuited. You shake your head, noticing his extended hand, offering you the box that you dropped earlier. “Oh, thank you,” you say to him, smiling apologetically as you take the box from his hand. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure why my girls are acting like this. They’re not usually this dramatic.” 

“That’s okay. Kids will be kids, right?” His eyes flicker towards your girls. Suzy, still in shock, is standing right by the cart while clutching the box of pancake batter to her chest, while Hana is clinging to your leg, almost hiding. “I don’t think you remember me, but—” The kind stranger offers the same hand to you to shake as he introduces himself, “I’m Namjoon. I just moved in a couple of doors away.” 

Once the information sets in, everything clicks. “Oh, yes. That’s right. I do remember.” 

All of a sudden, your memory takes you to last weekend, when you joined a cookout event held by one of your neighbours. The gathering was initially meant to celebrate their 25th anniversary, and you recall how they extended the celebration to welcome the new neighbour arriving in your block. You were so tired that night and were so focused on watching your kids that everything seemed to flash by, but you do recall gossiping with one of your neighbours, Ella—the only other single mom of the group—about how hot and stunning the newcomer looked. 

Blinking away the memory, you offer him another smile. “I’m sorry, I think the stress got to me. But I do remember you, although I don’t think we had enough time to chat.” 

“It’s fine. I won’t blame you, given the circumstances,” he says, and that cute dimple appears again. He turns to your kids next, bending a bit lower to match their height. “Hi, there. Are you girls trying to help your mom with the checkout?” 

Suzy presses her lips together, too shy to speak, but Hana is always happy to offer an answer. “Suzy won’t let me help.” You look down to see her pouting her lips, yet her eyes are still wide, looking curious and intrigued by this friendly stranger. Once again, something that you might share with your girl. 

“Well, I haven’t checked out my things and I might need a little help. So why don’t we let your sister help your mom, and you help me with mine?” he offers Hana with a smile as he points at his shopping basket, which is barely half full. Any adult would notice that he wouldn’t be needing much help with them, but Hana immediately perks up at his generous offer. 

“Is that really okay with you?” you ask, worrying about troubling him when you barely know him at all and letting your daughter out of your sight. 

As if he knows what you are thinking, he points over his shoulder at the next counter, which is only recently vacant. “I’ll take the next counter, so you can see and hear us all the time.” 

A sigh of relief escapes you. For some reason, looking at him alone is enough to reassure you and make you trust him. Maybe it’s the dimple. “Right. Okay,” you say to him, nodding. “Go ahead, honey. Help the nice mister with his groceries. But promise me that you’ll be good.” 

“‘Kay!” Hana easily agrees, getting overly excited that she has been given something else to do. “I promise, Mommy.” 

Find the beauty in the chaos. 

You remember reading that sentence somewhere. Perhaps from one of your favourite romance novels or one of those self-help books that your mother bought you during your darkest time. 

Each time you are having a hard time, be it from work, from dealing with household chores, or from caring for your daughters, you will always remember those words to keep your composure. Just like how you kept repeating those same words moments ago while you were stressing over your kids, when you tried to remain calm and sane. 

You didn’t expect the beauty to come and find you in your chaos instead. 

Having someone helping you just when you are starting to lose your calm feels like a blessing from the universe. 

Once peace has been regained, everything seems to return back to normal. Almost as if your daughters’ tantrum and fight never happened. 

While you work together with Suzy, who is enjoying her role as your little assistant, her smile widening each time the items go through, you can hear the sound of soft giggling from nearby as Hana does the same with her new friend. 

And Namjoon, the kind stranger and your saviour of the day, is making it fun by playing a little game with your little girl using the scanner and his groceries, drawing smiles and laughter from Hana, her little drama earlier forgotten. Soon enough, they are done, yet Hana remains by Namjoon’s side, almost clinging to his strong arm as she chatters away while he listens closely, hanging to every word she says. 

It appears that your little girl has completely become infatuated with the man. You cannot blame her though, since the man is quite easy in the eye. You have even noticed some of the women passing by looking over, and it surprises you how quickly it is making you feel territorial about him. 

“Thank you so much for your help. I truly appreciate it.” 

And you mean every word, seeing that not only has he helped solve your little problem with your demanding daughters, he also stays long enough to walk you to your car. If that isn’t enough to make you feel as if you have been transferred into another dimension, he has somehow gotten your daughter lifted in one arm, while he carries his grocery bag in the other. 

“It’s nothing, really. I enjoyed talking to your sweet girl,” he says, once again showing his dimple, and you can swear that you are swooning just by the look of it. Perhaps it’s his voice that does it to you; the deep timbre that makes you feel warm inside. It might also be the way he glances at Hana, not even showing any sign that he is getting annoyed for having his evening thwarted by having to deal with little girls and their very disorganised mother. 

“I mean it. You could’ve just walked past and didn’t offer anything, but you still did. You’re even walking us out to the car.” You sigh, recalling the bitter memory of the drama earlier. Glancing at him, you realise that Hana has become extremely silent. “Please tell me Hana isn’t falling asleep on your shoulder.” 

Namjoon lets out a soft chuckle as he takes a peek at Hana’s face, her cheeks smushed against his broad shoulder as if she has found the perfect place to rest her head on. “I think she’s about to.” 

Biting your lips, you hold back the sound that almost comes involuntarily out of you, because you can almost hear your ovaries exploding. 

Namjoon helps put Hana into her kiddie seat in the backseat of the car while you strap Suzy in right beside her. “You seem like you’ve done this before,” you let it slip, and you quickly move your hand to cover your mouth. “I’m so sorry. You’ve been so nice and here I am, sounding too presumptuous.” 

“It’s okay. Most of my friends have kids, and I’ve helped them once or twice whenever I’m free. I also have a niece from my sister, which gave me a chance to practice.” 

You take a peek at his grocery bag and remember what you saw in it—a box of beer, a couple of boxes of microwave dinners, and some snacks—and feel the urge to cook him dinner. Just to pay him a favour. 

Yes, that’s what it is. Not that you are eager to have him over for dinner or invite him into your home for anything other than. 

The offer is there, hanging at the tip of your tongue. But then you bite your lips, your insecurities and doubts rearing their ugly head, making you feel so small that you take a step back and simply say, “Thank you again. I’m so sorry for all the trouble.” 

Namjoon shrugs it off. “It was a pleasure to help.” 

Nodding, you look around, trying to find a distraction. You quickly notice that most of the cars parked near yours have gone away. “Are you—where did you park your car?”

The dimple on his cheek appears again when he shows you a bashful smile. “I don’t drive a car, actually,” he says, grinning and rubbing the back of his head. “I rode a bike here.” 

“A—bike?” You resist the urge to look around, just to be sure. Riding a bike at this time at night? You have no idea whether to feel amazed or baffled. Perhaps both. 

Seeing your reaction makes him laugh, and you somehow decide that you like the sound of it. “Yeah, I always ride a bike to the gym, and I was just heading home from there when I decided to make a quick stop to grab some sustenance for the evening.” 

Hiking the grocery bag in his arm higher, Namjoon takes a step back. That is when you notice the bag hanging from his shoulder. The one that wasn’t weighed down by Hana’s little head. 

Okay, you have officially decided to be amazed. Is this guy for real? 

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around?” He asks, snapping you back to the present before your mind starts picturing him carrying something else on those shoulders. 

No, none of it involves you. 

Maybe. 

You shake your head and muster a smile. “Oh, you betcha. You’ll definitely see us more often. Especially now that Hana has decided to like you.” 

You linger at the driver’s side of your car, hands on the door, yet your body refuses to slide in. You have no idea what seems to be drawing you towards him. Whatever it is, it makes you not want to leave. 

Namjoon tilts his head, as if noticing your hesitation to leave first. “Go on, I’ll watch you until you’re out there safely.” 

You open your mouth, almost ready to tell him to get back on his way before realising that the parking lot is quiet. Too quiet. And you have to admit that ever since you were left with only your two girls, you have been feeling a bit more vulnerable. Choosing to accept his offer of staying until you are safe to go—and feeling warm in the chest for having someone care enough to do so—you nod your head and slip into your car. 

Once you are strapped in, you look out the window to wave him goodbye. 

“Drive safe,” he says, and then the dimple reappears when he smiles, almost causing you to stutter. 

“Yes, um. You too.” 

Hana’s eyes flutter open just as Namjoon takes a peek into the backseat window to say goodbye to the girls. 

“Bye, Mista Joonie!” she cheerfully shouts, as if she wasn’t falling asleep in his arm just moments ago.

“Goodbye, Mister,” Suzy chimes in with a shy smile, waving her hand at Namjoon which he returns with a small wave.

“I’ll see you girls around!” 

Giving him one last wave and a smile, you begin to drive away. You can still see him through the rearview mirror, standing by and watching you go, until you are almost out of the lot and you see his figure running in the distance to get back to his bike. It’s brief, but there is something about this chance encounter that makes you feel bitter about leaving. 

Even if, deep down, you know that you will see him again soon. 

Perhaps I should’ve offered and invited him for dinner, after all. 

There is truly no beauty in this chaos. 

Even if there is, it would be impossible for you to see it. Not in moments like this.

It seems like the entire universe is out to get you this week, as nothing seems to be aligning the way it should have. The whole office has been in complete havoc all morning. Typical for Blackwell Press, the publishing company you are working with, to have the final week of the month filled with all the hustle. With everyone getting caught in deadlines, meetings and conference calls held back to back, and your own work piling up, it almost seems impossible for things to get even worse. 

But, of course, it eventually did. 

Offices don’t randomly get caught on fire during the daytime, when there are people—many of them—inside. Elevators don’t randomly get stuck merely seconds after the fire alarm starts blaring across the building.

Okay, this elevator had gotten stuck before, during that one time some staff were working late at night and the machine suddenly failed to work. Everyone has been joking about it happening again during a busy day, and it feels like karma that it has to happen again now. 

But must it happen when you are inside it?

The steady hum of the elevator suddenly turned into a deafening silence just moments ago, and the only thing you can do now is to stand frozen in the flickering light, wondering what is going on. Trapped between floors, the confined space appears in your mind as if closing in on you, the walls shrinking with every breath. The only reprieve you are given is the fact that you are not in it on your own. 

Your heart is pounding in your chest, louder than the faint crackle of the intercom as Daniel, the Marketing guy, tries to contact the security staff downstairs through the intercom. His voice remains calm despite the constant crackling sound each time they try to respond, while the other Marketing staff present with you, Jae, has long discarded his suit in his effort to calm himself. 

You take shallow breaths to keep yourself from panicking, all while trying to listen to the soft hum of their voices as they talk about what to do, just to keep your mind from wandering towards dark places. Right beside you, Lily, the only member of the Editor team aside yourself, is slowly losing her calm. 

At the sudden halt of the elevator, she had reached out to grab the sleeve of your blouse as if searching for support. As seconds tick by, her grip on your sleeve tightens as she tries to control her breath, her eyes locked on the digital screen that is no longer displaying a floor number. And you let her cling to you, even when you feel like you need some added strength for yourself. 

It was by mere coincidence that the four of you are stuck here together. 

You were the last ones to leave the conference room after the latest meeting, having been the ones responsible for providing the items for the meeting. As fate has it, merely seconds after the doors were closed and the elevator had only started moving, the fire alarm started blaring through the building, and everything came to a halt. 

“They’re saying that help is on its way,” says Daniel, relaying the message that he just received from the intercom, his voice becomes the calm in this dire situation. 

You find yourself feeling grateful that at least one of you manages to hear the voice coming through the intercom, while you haven’t been able to focus on anything at all. Nothing but the sound of your breathing, the rapid sound of your heartbeat, and at the way the air seems to be growing stale with four people sharing the same oxygen in this tight space. 

“What did they say? Is it connected to the fire alarm?” you try to ask, hoping that getting some positive news might help clear your thoughts. Even if just a little. 

“No, they didn’t say anything,” Daniel says with a strained voice, possibly due to reality finally sinking in once the intercom stops making any sound to respond. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jae leans back against the metal railing and sighs. “Let’s just hope that we’re not anywhere close to the fire, and it’s just some issues with the electricity,” he adds while trying his best to remain calm. But it doesn’t help make you feel any calmer when his eyes begin wandering at every visible gap and crevice as he speaks, as if making sure that he isn’t seeing any smoke filtering into the elevator. 

It makes you feel uneasy to see this. Every bit of calmness that you still have begins chipping away. 

Soon, silence falls as everyone tries their best to remain still and composed while waiting for help to come. The minutes drag on like hours, allowing your thoughts to wander into a darker place and letting your doubt and fear sink in. 

Is the building really burning? 

Why are we stuck here? How long are we supposed to wait?

What happens if help doesn’t come? 

What about my girls? What will happen to them if I—

You blink away the tears forming in your eyes at the thought of not returning home to your girls. The thought of leaving them behind hurts you beyond words that you are beginning to lose hope. 

Gripping the metal railing behind you tightly, you close your eyes and begin to pray. And you continue to pray as time slips away in the dim, stalled box. Please, you beg whoever is listening. Please, someone—

A loud clatter breaks the silence, causing everyone to jerk their heads up, all eyes looking around to find its source. Right as Jae is about to speak, the clattering stops and comes a muffled voice from somewhere above.

"Hello? Can you hear me?" The voice is clear now, firm but calming, and somewhat familiar. But your mind is a jumbled mess of worry and bewilderment that you cannot figure out the reason why you would think that way. 

"Yes!" Jae calls back after looking around, seeing how everyone is stunned to silence, “Yes, we can hear you!”

"Stay calm," the voice calmly instructs from above. “We’re from the firefighters. We're going to get you out."

You feel your knees weakening with relief. Even the others collectively exhale deep sighs of relief and Lily begins to loosen her hold on the sleeve of your blouse. “Okay,” she whispers, steadying herself. “We’re going to be okay.” 

Daniel nods when he sees that everyone is calmer. “Okay, we’re ready!” he shouts to the person on the other side as he braces against the cool metal wall. 

Soon, you hear a low, scraping sound against the elevator door, followed by the clank of tools echoing through the small chamber. The elevator shirts slightly upon impact, causing everyone to gasp and instinctively start stepping away from the door. Before panic starts to set back in, the firefighter’s voice cuts through again, calming everyone down.  

"We're going to manually open the doors. You might feel the elevator shift a little—don't worry. You're safe."

Safe. 

The word echoes through your mind, acting like a spell as it brings some reassurance. Something for you to cling to. The clanking sounds of the tool returns just as you start hearing the firefighter coordinating with his team outside. 

More creaks and groans follow next, lasting for a short while, and then—light appears. The doors start inching open, revealing the gap between the elevator floor and the hallway above. Two strong hands appear from the gap, pulling the doors wider until there is enough space for you to see your rescuers in their fire gear, all focused and ready to pull everyone out.

One firefighter peeks through the opened doors with a smile. “Alright, who’s up first?” 

Both men who are with you step aside, allowing either you or Lily to get out first. So you push Lily forward, letting her get helped first before you take your turn. 

"Alright, just one step up," the firefighter says, reaching down with an outstretched hand. "Take my hand, we’ve got you."

You hesitate only for a moment before grasping his hand, his hold feels solid and reassuring. You can feel the strength in his grip as he hoists you up and out of the elevator, the cool rush of fresh air hitting you like a wave of relief. Your legs tremble as they touch solid ground that you nearly fall, yet the kind firefighter holds you up by your arms, keeping you steady as he sets you aside so that the other members of his team can start helping the men out.

"You're okay now," the firefighter says, his voice softer now. "Just breathe. You’re safe."

Nodding, you close your eyes, allowing yourself to feel the weight of your fear melting away. Still unable to speak, you glance back at the elevator, seeing it still wedged between floors, and feel a shiver run through you as you remember that you had just been inside it moments ago. But as you look around, watching the firefighters handling the situation, helping the other three who had just gotten pulled out to get help, the terror that was gripping at you begins to loosen its hold. 

With a relieved sigh, you straighten up and turn back to your saviour, the firefighter who had just pulled you out and is still holding you up. The moment you see his face, you finally understand why his voice felt so familiar, and why you could easily find calmness when you first heard him speak. 

“Namjoon,” you whisper his name, drawing a smile to his face, showing you the small dimple which had been in your mind ever since the night you last met. 

“I told you we’d meet again soon.”  

“Is this really necessary?” 

You are sitting at the corner of the building’s main lobby, together with the other three who had gotten stuck with you in the elevator. Other staff have also been evacuated here while the firefighters are working to find the source of the problem. 

Namely, the reason why the fire alarm went off when there was no sign of the building burning anywhere. 

Right by your side, Jae is being checked by the medical team when it is quite obvious that all the man wants to do is to get back to his office. 

“You were under duress just moments ago, Sir. We need to check your vitals to make sure that there are no other issues with your body that the incident may have caused before letting you go.” 

“Let the boy do his job so we can all go back to the office,” Daniel chimes in just as he is done being checked out and the medic moves to Lily next. The poor girl has yet to regain some colour on her pale face, which makes you worried. “Wait, we’re allowed to go back to our office, right?” 

The medical staff nods and talks about waiting until everyone gets clearance from the investigation team before going back up. After getting your turn for the quick check-up, you wander off a bit between the staff lingering around, feeling too restless to sit still. 

Before you realise what you are doing, you begin searching for a familiar figure between the throng of people, and you don’t stop until you see a group of firefighters returning to the lobby after checking the floors above. One of them, who appears to be the team leader, walks towards the head of security and the Head Editor waiting close by. 

“It came from smoke forming in the break room. Someone must’ve burned something in the microwave or forgot to pull it out and the smoke triggered the alarm,” you hear the team leader speak, explaining the cause of the fire alarm. “The faulty alarm system made the electrical circuit go haywire, which made it seem like it was a bigger fire than it was, and it may have caused the elevator cables to short-circuit.” The team leader hands the draft of their investigation report to the head of security. “The elevator needs to get checked too, since the cables are old. You need to get it done soon.” 

The Head Editor—your boss—takes a peek at the report and shakes his head. “I’m gonna need to contact building management—” 

His voice begins to fade away when a movement catches your eyes, and you see the person that you have been searching for separating himself from the group to approach you.

Namjoon, who turns out to be your saviour, walks up to you with a smile on his face. “Are you okay?” he asks, the familiar deep timber of his voice brings some warmth to your chest, telling you that this isn’t a figment of your imagination.

“Yeah,” you answer with a small voice, still too dumbfounded to see him standing before you like this. “Uhm, yes, I’m fine. Thank you so much for saving my life.” The moment you say this, a soft giggle slips right out of you. “This makes it the second time this week you’ve come to my rescue.” 

Namjoon’s smile widens. “I’m just glad to help.” 

He takes a look around. “So, a publishing agency, hmm? What is it exactly that you do here, if I may ask?” His curious gaze lands on you and it feels like he is trying to look into your soul. “I hope it’s okay if I’m curious, since you now know what I do for a living.” 

You let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t mind at all,” you admit to him before answering, “I’m an editor. I edit manuscripts for upcoming books before they are sent out to print and get officially published. You can say that I’m being paid to read and comment, and gain the extra privilege of reading the books first before everyone else does.” 

“That sounds interesting,” he says, raising his brows. “I don’t suppose you’ll be getting back to work after this?” 

“I’m not entirely sure. But I don’t think I will.” You glance around at your co-workers. Neither seems to have any desire of going back to work after this whole incident. Sharing the same feeling with the others around you, you feel a strong desire of seeing your girls and spending time with them instead. “I might get back to my office only to pack up my stuff and leave early, pick up Hana from daycare and have a little cool down at the park before we go and pick up her sister. I know she’ll love it.” 

At the mention of your girls, Namjoon’s smile softens. “That sounds fun.” 

For a moment, it looks as if he wants to say something, only to stop himself when someone from his team calls his name. Namjoon looks over his shoulder and nods. “Unfortunately, one of us has to go back to work,” he says with an apologetic smile, “I’ll see you around. Hopefully, not in another case of emergency?” 

You cannot help but smile. “I promise to try and keep things less dramatic next time.” 

With a grin on his face, Namjoon turns away and joins the other men from his team as they prepare to leave. You watch him for a moment longer, blending in with the rest of them until someone comes to your side. 

“So—” Your friend, Emma, says as she slips her arm around yours. “Who’s the hunk?” 

You roll your eyes and smile. “He’s a new neighbour. He helped me the last time we met,” you answer, still stunned with everything that has been going on. You never expected that you would be seeing Namjoon again, and for him to once again save the day for you, “Which makes this the second time he’s helped me.”

“Oooh, sounds like a story premise in the making. It’ll make a good romance prompt, don’t you think?” she teases, “A firefighter who keeps crossing paths with a single mother, saving her during a series of misfortunes and ending up falling in love after the single mom starts paying his goodwill with homecooked meals and other”—she starts wiggling her eyebrows—”raunchy favours.” 

You laugh at her comment, even if it doesn’t stop you feeling your cheeks flushing warmly. “Well, I’m not the writer. You can probably pitch that idea to the indie author you’ve been working with.” 

“Who? Sana? Hmmm, you’re right. This is kind of her thing. Let me take notes on that,” Emma says as she pulls out her phone and starts tapping on the screen, no doubt writing the idea down on her notes app. “I might advice her to make it extra spicy too.” 

As you continue to chat with your friend about books and promising writers, you let her guide you back towards the Editor team who are gathering at one corner of the room with your boss, talking about the incidents and what they are going to do next. 

“Are you heading back up?” Emma asks you before you join the others, and you recall your plan about spending the rest of the afternoon with your youngest. 

“I’m thinking of grabbing my stuff and head back home if Adam lets us go for the day,” you say to her, referring to your boss, the Head Editor who isn’t showing any sign of wanting to back to work. Much like everyone else. “I’ll probably end up losing sleep again if I want to finish editing tonight.” 

You let out a sigh, thinking about the lack of sleep you have been having this week. With new books coming up to prints this month, and new writers struggling to keep up with the schedule that you have set up for them, you have been staying up a lot of nights to catch up with editing. 

“But it’s still a lot better to work from home than being stuck here and freaking out about the elevator and false fire alarms all day,” you add, almost like reassuring yourself that it would be okay to sacrifice more sleep for the sake of your sanity.  

“Good point. I bet we can sweet talk Adam to let us go early today. I don’t see the point in working when everyone is stressed out anyway,” Emma jokes as she points her chin at Adam, whose eyebrows are furrowed deeply as he continues chatting with his assistants. “At least, thanks to this, I think we deserve to let off some steam. What do you say we go out this Saturday? Grab some drinks, dance a bit, maybe you can practice your flirting skills so you can make use of them the next time you meet up with that cutie again.”  

You make a face as you imagine yourself trying to make a move on Namjoon, which only makes her laugh. “I’m serious. He seems nice, aside from being hot, and it’ll be a missed opportunity not to tap that.” 

You roll your eyes, but a part of you is starting to consider it. As much as you love being a mother and to dedicate your entire life to your career, you cannot deny that you do want to start dating again. 

And the offer to have a night out where you can let off some steam and let loose does sound enticing. Emma and some of your other friends have been asking you to join them to hangout on drink nights lately. But with a lot of deadlines and tight schedules weighing down on you, and no one to watch your girls while you are out, you have been declining their invitation. But after dealing with such a hard week, you feel like you deserve a night to yourself. 

“I do need a stiff drink.” Sighing, you remember that your daughters are going to be spending the weekends with your parents. It wouldn’t hurt to use that free time to have some fun for a change instead of staying in. “All right. Count me in.” 

Emma cheers. “Great! I’ll call the other girls to see if they’ll come too it so we can all catch up. Chloe called the other day and shared about wanting to see us and give us the souvenirs she got from her trip to Singapore last week, so she’ll probably be excited too,” she says, mentioning another fellow Editor who used to work in the same company as the two of you before moving up to a bigger publishing agency. 

Just then, you see a small group of firefighters walking across the lobby, heading towards the front door to leave. Among them is Namjoon, who seems to feel your gaze on him. As you continue watching him walk alongside his team, he suddenly turns. His eyes quickly find you among the crowd lingering in the lobby, his smile growing wider as he raises his hand to wave goodbye. 

Emma makes a humming sound when she sees this exchange happening and whispers, “Promise me you’ll tell me more about that hot firefighter of yours.” 

Keeping your eyes on Namjoon, you merely smile and wave your hand back at him. “Mhmm. We’ll see.” 

It’s a typical Saturday night at Cipher, the rustic-style bar that Namjoon has frequented ever since he moved into the city. 

The bar had a different name just a couple of years ago, when Namjoon first came by during one of his previous visits to this city, and with different types of patrons as well. The only thing that remains the same since is the man who is working behind the bar, mixing drinks while chatting with whoever decides to hang around the bartender. 

“How is living in the city going for you so far?” Jin, the bartender and owner of the bar, asks Namjoon while he is busy wiping clean glasses between drink orders. 

Twisting the glass in his hand, Namjoon shrugs before taking a sip of his whiskey. “Not too bad. I can’t say that I’ve gotten to fit right in with the neighbours. But things are doing good at work, so that’s good enough for now.” 

“Seeing anyone already?” Jin teases, making Namjoon laugh. 

“Are you seriously asking me that?” He shakes his head. “It might be too soon for me to get back out there into the dating scene.” 

“You? Not sure about getting out to meet up with women?” Jin laughs. “Look, I’m not talking about getting into a relationship or finding someone else to propose. I’m talking about having fun. Go pick someone you find attractive tonight and take her home with you. You deserve a good time too, you know.” 

Namjoon’s throat feels tight just by hearing that word—propose—only because it brings back a painful memory; of the days filled with fights and shouting matches and distrust, and the desperation he felt to hold on to the hope that things would have gotten better if he chose to settle down. 

Shaking the sudden wave of painful memory doesn’t really help when he thinks about opening himself to finding instant pleasure to replace what was lost to him.  

Namjoon may not be a stranger to having a one-night stand. But it has been a while since the last time he had one. Those days are way behind him. Long before he decided to settle down, only to have everything fall apart and he was forced to start over in a new place just to survive. 

He knows all too well that sharing his bed with someone for one night only does little to fill the void. He knows from what he experienced during his wild days in the past. Physically, he might not have been alone for those short hours, but once it ended, it only made him feel even more lonely than before. At some point, the loneliness started to feel painful. It was what had first led him to start longing for something more. 

He once thought that he had found more. Only that it had been with the wrong person, at the wrong time, and he found himself back to square one when everything crumbled. 

He took it all thinking that it might have been karma. Bad fate came to bite him on the ass after all the years he had his fun chasing women, breaking hearts here and there, until he got his own heart broken to pieces just months ago. 

It was the reality check he needed. One that he has yet to completely recover from. The pain and the memories of the past would sometimes come creeping in, staying with him as if they had been woven into the cracks that were left inside him to remain even after he walked away. It kept chasing him during the nights he spent alone—and he had tried to go back to the game once or twice, only to fail to gain anything out of it—which was why he decided to move away. 

Start anew. Meet new people. And then one day, maybe—

He knows that time will eventually help him heal, just like how time has healed many of the scars he had gained through the years of working with danger, chasing fires and pulling people out of crumbling buildings and crashed cars and stuck elevators—a flutter of a smile comes to his face as he recalls the most recent incident—while risking his own body, his life, doing so. 

“I can’t believe I’m getting an advice about hooking up from someone like you,” Namjoon chuckles, as he brushes those thoughts away, choosing to tease Jin instead. “Someone who claims to be looking into settling down.” 

Jin scoffs. “I’m saying this for your own good.” Propping his elbows on top of the bar counter, Jin leans forward. “You moved here to start over. Not to stop living altogether.” 

Namjoon gives him a bitter smile. “Right now, I’m only going to spend the night nursing my drink, enjoying my downtime while I’m off duty.” 

Shaking his head, Jin leans back and grabs the empty glasses left behind from the patrons who had just stepped away from the seats next to Namjoon. “Have you thought about my offer?” Jin asks, “About working here on the nights you’re not on night shift? At least, that way, you might open up your eyes and see all the opportunities you can get by standing right here at the bar, talking to people.” 

“And live a double life like you do?” Namjoon teases him, which earns him a wink from Jin, before the bartender saunters away as another customer waves him down to order a drink. 

Once again left with his own thoughts, Namjoon allows himself to sink back into old memories; all the good and the bad; the long-lost hope that he once had and is now trying to rebuild. 

“Wanna have another?” Jin asks when he returns, noticing that Namjoon has almost emptied his glass yet again. “Got enough time to think about what I was saying?” 

“Maybe,” Namjoon says as he tosses his drink down. He slides the empty glass back to Jin. “Get me a double of that.” 

As Jin steps back to grab his drinks, Namjoon notices the group of patrons crowding nearby spreading away, giving him a clear sight of the bar’s entrance door just as a group of women enters, laughing and chatting with each other without realising the attention they are gaining. All of a sudden, Namjoon feels as if the air around him shifts, right the moment his eyes capture the sight of a familiar smile among the ladies who seem to have come for a good time. 

“Can I ask you something?” Namjoon asks Jin when the bartender returns with his drink. 

“Sure. Anything.” 

“Do you believe in fate?” 

Jin laughs. “Me? I can’t really say I don’t believe it, but it’s also not something I’d talk about while tending the bar. Why?” 

Namjoon turns back to look at the group of newcomers, his smile growing wider when his eyes meet yours as you look up, as if you can feel his presence as he sits across the room, watching you with a new feeling of hope brewing inside his chest. Life can be cruel sometimes, he silently admits. Yet it seems that life is slowly turning to his favour when you unexpectedly appear right before his eyes, right when he is about to call it a night and return to his lonely home. 

“Well, I think I am starting to believe it.” 

“I feel like we should make a toast,” Emma starts once you manage to find an open table. She holds up her glass of Cosmo before anyone can start enjoying their drinks. 

“What are we toasting for?” Ina asks, just as Emma shouts, 

“To friendship.” 

Chloe snorts into her drink and shakes her head. “What are we, in high school?” 

“Hey, I mean, it works,” Emma whines, “Seeing that we still hang out together even after you and Ina moved to different companies.” 

Thinking to yourself, you think about the long week that you just had and offer, “How about a toast to surviving life?” 

“I’ll toast to that,” Ina quickly agrees with a nod, and you can totally understand why. Being the oldest one of the group, she has a ton of things on her plate among her busy days at work; from dealing with her teenage boys back home who are beginning to act up; a husband who is busy preparing for his promotion; and a sick cat back home. 

“I love my boys, but sometimes I wish they were still the same adorable toddlers who would listen to me instead of fighting me all the time,” she would often say, though you could always see the love in her eyes even as she complains about them. “Are you sure you don’t want to trade them with your girls? Just a night will be enough for me. I promise.” 

Chloe raises her glass to join the toast, saying, “I’ll toast to that too. These past few weeks have been pretty crazy for me. I want to stay in bed with my hubby for the next few weeks and not answer any texts or phone calls.” 

Her comment makes you want to take a shot of your drink. You shouldn’t feel envious about her having someone waiting for her back home. You shouldn’t wish that you had someone to share your bed with tonight. You really don’t need to think about having to return home tonight alone, to a quiet home, without your girls waiting back home, without anyone keeping you company.  

The only thing you fear the most about being left alone with your thoughts is to have the ghosts of your past coming back. Memories always come stronger at nights. Taking you back to the days when you were not alone, yet you are made struggling even harder than you are now when you tried to hold on to the crumbling marriage. 

Nobody warned you that falling out of love can be painful. How lonely it made you feel.  It scorned you to the point that you nearly sworn yourself off of love, just to keep your heart save. Whatever was left of it. 

“Then why are you here hanging with us when you have a husband to cuddle with?” Emma teases, her voice snapping you out of it. Then Chloe leans in to hug you from the side. 

“Because I also miss you guys,” she says, drawing everyone’s laughter. 

You share a toast with the girls, clinking the glasses as you cheer, followed by a series of shots, and then a new round of drinks is shared at the table. You continue talking, laughing, catching up about life and sharing gossip and fussing over some problematic authors that both Emma and Chloe had to deal with for the past month. By the time the next round of shots arrives at the table, you notice Emma’s eyes looking over your shoulder and grinning at what she sees.

“Aren’t you going to say hi?” she teases, leaning in to make it less obvious that she has been observing the one person that you have been fighting not to look at. 

You take a careful sip of your Moscow Mule as you think of an excuse. “We already waved at each other when we first came in.” 

Truth be told, you already know that a simple wave was the bare minimum that you could have given him. Seeing Namjoon sitting there at the bar when you first came into this place caught you by surprise that you were left speechless. It was Namjoon who had first smiled at you, and the only thing you could do was wave your hand at him when your legs refused to take you to him.  

“You know that’s not enough.” Emma rolls her eyes. “The guy practically saved your life.” 

Your reaction—or lack thereof—over seeing Namjoon hadn’t gone unnoticed by your friends. But it was Emma who had explained to the others about who Namjoon was, earning you more questions and teasing from the girls which only made it even harder for you to ignore his presence. 

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it if you offer something special tonight for a thank-you gift,” Chloe teases while wiggling her brows. 

You laugh, snorting into your drink. “Sure he will,” you say, as you find it hard to imagine that someone like Namjoon would even be interested in being with someone like you. Not only because you know that he is younger than you, but you also know that there are many women out there—mostly those around his age—that he would find more attractive, compared to a single mom like yourself. 

As always, your insecurities are quick to set in. Before you can drown it with a strong drink, Emma quickly protests, “You’re a MILF, ______. Stop selling yourself short.”

Nodding, Ina gently agrees with her by saying, “You definitely shouldn’t, seeing that he keeps glancing at you.” 

“She means to say that he’s been eye-fucking you since we got here,” Chloe adds, snickering as she glances over her shoulder to catch Namjoon looking over. 

“He so is!” Ina says, leaning across the table. “He’s hot. Go for it.”

Hearing this, you finally take a long sip of your drink, trying to gain some liquid courage. You have only gotten a few glasses of drink, the night has yet grown late, but you have already gotten quite a good buzz going on, and you are using it to grow some courage to look over at him. Sure enough, Namjoon is still there, with a glass of what seems to be whiskey in his hand, and a pair of eyes that are looking straight at you. A smile grows on his face as your gazes meet each other, though it is quickly hidden as he lifts his glass to his lips. 

“See? He’s looking over again.” Emma starts giggling and gently nudges at your shoulder. “Go talk to him and practice that flirting skills of yours.”

“What flirting skills?” you ask while laughing. Deep down, your insecurities are still clawing at you, but having everyone pushing you to do something that you normally wouldn’t do—like flirting with a hot younger guy like Namjoon—is starting to make you want to change your mind. “Okay, but what do I say?” 

“You can start by saying hi,” Ina says. She pushes her appletini in front of you. “Here,” she says. “Finish this, then go talk to him before someone else moves in on that fine piece of ass.”

Chloe nods her head as you pick up the glass of appletini and contemplate what you need to do next. “You can go to the bar and act like you’re there to order drinks from the bartender since we’ll be needing some more drinks.” 

 “Go on,” Emma joins in, obviously enjoying this. 

You exhale a deep breath and bring the glass to your lips. The sweet liquor glides down your throat and you suddenly start wishing that you had gotten something stronger. Lowering the drink, you turn to look for him again. Namjoon isn’t looking at you this time, yet he is still there, talking to the pretty-looking bartender who was the main reason why Emma had chosen to come to this bar—as she seems to be having a sweet crush on the bartender. 

“All right, here I go,” you say, as you finish the drink and muster the will to rise from your seat. Your legs are a bit wobbly when you try to walk across the room, but the muted voices of your friends who are cheering for you from behind give you the boost you need to continue going. 

The floor between your table and the bar has been filled with people dancing while you are drinking, and they come in your way, making you lose sight of Namjoon for a moment. Not being able to see him only makes you feel calmer, until the crowd opens up and you see him once again, still sitting at the bar. Alone. 

Eyes too focused on him, you accidentally bump into someone who walks right into your path. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you immediately apologise while the person simply slides out of your way and returns to his dancing. 

You hear a soft chuckle, a familiar sound that causes your breath to catch. You whip around and your eyes are locked with his. Immediately, something fuzzy builds in your chest, and you almost fall out of step when you notice it. 

Are those butterflies you are feeling inside? You haven’t felt anything remotely like butterflies in—fuck—years. 

As his smile grows wider at the sight of you walking towards him, you try to convince yourself that his presence isn’t affecting you. At all. 

Your lady bits do not quiver for random men. You are certainly not having dirty thoughts about him. You keep telling yourself this as you get closer to him. And yet—

Your heart immediately speeds up at the sound of his voice—calling your name. 

“_______, fancy seeing you here,” he says, looking genuinely pleased that those butterfly wings are beginning to flutter again, causing some funny feelings to rise in your stomach. 

“I could say the same thing. It was a nice surprise to see you,” you respond to him and—fuck, did you really just try flirting with him? “Enjoying your night?” 

“You can say that,” he says with a dimple smile of his, “But I’m finding more reasons to feel good tonight now that you’re here.” 

Damn, he’s good, you wonder as you stifle a smile, and fail. Maybe he should be the one helping you sharpen your flirting skills instead of Emma or the other girls who always start making jokes about it and making you laugh each time you try it on them. 

“A friend of yours?” You turn when the bartender comes, throwing you a smile as he speaks to Namjoon. 

“Jin, this is _______,” Namjoon says, introducing the two of you. “This is Jin, an old friend who first convinced me to move here. He’s the main reason why I hang out at a place like this.” 

You offer your hand to the bartender who takes it with a firm grip. “Hi, it’s nice to see you. I see that you and your friends are having quite a blast.” 

Returning Jin’s smile, you playfully ask him, “Would it be too much if I thank you for encouraging Namjoon to move here?” 

“Nope, not at all,” Jin laughs. “So, what can I get you?” 

You quickly make your order, and while you wait for the bartender to finish preparing the drinks, you take the seat right by Namjoon’s side so you can have a little chat. Either the alcohol is starting to warm you up inside, or Namjoon’s friendly smile is making you more comfortable, every bit of tension you feel is lifted when you begin laughing at his simple jokes. 

Once the drinks are ready, you reluctantly rise to return to your friends to deliver their shots. This time, you have a slight new pep in your footsteps, confidence brewing inside you after realising that you had conquered one of your insecurities tonight by chatting with Namjoon. Your friends welcome you with light cheers, and you celebrate by sharing a shot of whiskey and finishing the rest of your drink. 

It doesn’t take long before your friends decide to end the night. 

Ina is the one to step away first, when her husband calls her about one of their sons who had just gotten caught sneaking through the window after lying about doing his homework in his room. “We don’t know if he snuck out to see a girl or got himself in other kinds of trouble while he was out, but Dan needs me as a backup to get some answers from the little brat,” she says, kissing your cheek when she bids goodbye for the night. 

Chloe is the one who needs to go home next, when her husband keeps calling her about feeling lonely at home. “I can’t tell if it’s sad or cute, but I think I’ve had enough to drink for the night. I already got an Uber picking me up outside.” 

“Are you coming?” Emma asks you, her eyes looking over towards the bar before asking, “Or are you going to stay?” 

You follow her gaze, looking at Namjoon chuckling along with whatever the bartender is saying to him. A part of you is telling you to call it a night, but there is a bigger part of you that feels intrigued, and curious to see what would happen tonight if you choose differently. To be selfish for once. 

“I think I’m going to stay.” 

Your answer brings a smile to Emma’s face. She seems proud and—relieved. You have no idea why she would feel this way over your decision to stay for a man, but she simply nods and says, “All right, then I’ll ride with you, Chloe. I’ll see you on Monday, girl,” she says to you as she leans in for a hug and whispers, “Go get him.” 

You watch your friends go before finishing the rest of your drink and leaving your seat. Before you can change your mind, your legs take you towards the bar, returning to Namjoon’s side as if you are drawn to him like a moth to flame. 

“Are you calling it a night too?” Namjoon asks you when he notices you coming, his gaze flickering to follow your friends as they weave through the crowd to find the exit door, as if expecting to see you following them.  

“I don’t really want to go home yet.” You bite your lips. “I think I’m going to have another drink before leaving. Are you planning on leaving early?” 

The smile that grows on Namjoon’s face makes your heart flutter. He does look good when he smiles. “And waste the chance to drink with you? No way.” You take the empty seat that he offers right next to him, which he gently pulls closer once you are settled in. “Let me order for you. What are you having?”

“Surprise me.” 

Smiling, Namjoon orders you a Moscow Mule, causing you to raise your brows. “You ordered the same drink twice while you were here.” 

“You have quite a good memory,“ you tease him, “Are you sure you don’t work here?” 

Namjoon laughs. His eyes glimmer under the dim lighting when he says, “You’re not the kind of woman that I’d be so easy to forget.”

You can barely hold back from laughing, because you cannot find it in you to agree. 

“You don’t believe me when I say that you’re not easy to forget?” he asks, moving closer to you until you can breathe in the musky cologne he is wearing. 

“Me? I’m nothing special. I’m just”—you breathe out a sigh—”just me.”

He takes your hand, sliding his fingers to your wrist, his thumb finding your pulse where he rubs in circles. “I don’t know you very well—yet—but from what I’ve seen, ‘just you’ seems pretty damn special.”

You laugh again and take a drink, murmuring softly to him, “Thanks.”

He looks down for a moment, as if considering what to say. But he seems more determined when he lifts his gaze and looks back at you. There is something in his eyes which draws out the flutters in your chest. A new look which you have yet to see coming from him during the short time you’ve known him. 

The look which shows a different kind of want.

And you can only guess what he is thinking right now. Biting your lips, you wait until he says the words, because there is nothing that you want more right now but to go with him. You enjoy talking to him, to be in his presence, and you have a feeling that you might enjoy it more if he offers something more. 

It’s just one night, so you can possibly handle it. Right? 

Fuck. All of a sudden, you don’t feel too sure about it. 

But the gentle touch of his fingers on your skin, together with the deep timber of his voice when he hums, is slowly enticing you to open up, to give in to chance. 

Namjoon’s eyes meet yours and the same dimple smile of his returns. You swallow hard, ignoring the sound of your pounding heart as he asks,

“Do you want to get out of here?” 

Biting your lips, you can feel your chest tightening. Your heart beating fast. Hard. Your body moves to lean closer even without you meaning it to. 

“Yes,” you whisper, and his face lights up, as if he was almost sure that you were going to refuse. 

“Your place, or mine?”

A simple question, made with a light tone of voice that sounds almost joking, except that Namjoon’s heart is beating rapidly inside his chest as he says it. He already risked everything when he first asked to take you away from here. Now, it feels as if he is risking a bit more as he waits for your answer. 

You bite your lips, and your hesitance only makes him feel worse. “Is there any difference?” 

Namjoon wants to say, no, it doesn’t. The only thing that matters is for him to be spending this night with you. You push your hair back, and when your eyes meet his, he can almost feel your heart beating right up against his. 

“Are your kids home tonight?” Namjoon tries when you’re not too sure. Somehow, he understands that you might be wary about coming home to his place when you barely know him. 

“No, they’re at my parents.” 

A smile is lifted on his face. “Then are you going to take me home?” 

You return his smile and lean closer. It amazes him how quickly you switch—from shy and hesitant at one point, to feeling more confident and daring the next. And it turns him on even more when you say, “Only if you promise that you’re going to be a good boy.” 

Namjoon calls an Uber to take you both home while you make a quick stop at the restroom before leaving the place. In the short time that he has to wait for you, Namjoon struggles to keep his composure. It’s almost laughable the way it makes him feel like a newbie. For him to feel so nervous as if he is inexperienced in this. 

In a way, this is something new for him. Enough to make him feel exhilarated about what is to come. 

He turns just in time to see you walking up to him. As if your moment away had given you the chance to recoup and find some resolve, you look as if you are shining, your smile looking bright and your eyes filled with lust and want and it takes everything in him not to pull you into his arms here and now just to kiss you senseless. 

“Take me home, mama,” he jokingly says when he opens the car door for you, making you laugh. 

Instead of answering him, you grab the front of his shirt and pull him in with you until you are seated in the backseat of the car together, bringing the heat that you share into the confines of the car as it takes you back home. 

In the tight space within the car, the heat that has been building up between you becomes more palpable. You can tell that he is feeling it too. And he seems to be giving into it, when he keeps running the tips of his fingers from your hand to your wrist, when his knees keep pressing against yours, and when his eyes keep trailing from your face, down to your cleavage, and then back up to your neck, before lingering on your lips. 

He wets his lips, as if he is picturing himself tasting you with a kiss. “Can I be honest with you?” he whispers, leaning closer. 

“Of course.” 

“I…couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he admits with a soft chuckle. It seems that his confession surprises him just as much as it does to you. 

“Since the fire alert?” 

“No,” he says with a grin, “ever since the night we first met.” 

Was it at the supermarket? You wonder to yourself, trying to figure out what he could have possibly seen in you that night through the chaos with your girls. 

No, it was before, you begin to realise, as you recall the night of the cookout event at your neighbours’ backyard, when Namjoon lingered close by after sharing a quick chat with you, and when you caught him watching you from the side while you were helping your daughters with their dinner plates. 

“I told myself after watching you go that night that I shouldn’t get my hopes up, since you seemed to have a lot going on already and I probably didn’t deserve any second of your time. But then I saw you at the supermarket and I couldn’t resist saying hello.” His eyes find yours. You have no idea what kind of expression you are giving him while you are loss for words, but Namjoon’s smile softens. “And just when I thought it couldn’t have been more than a coincidence, we got the call to your office and there you were. It feels like we just keep crossing paths with each other. As if I am made to make a move.” 

Noticing that you have grown silent, Namjoon tilts his head and asks, “What’s wrong?” 

With a bitter laugh, you can only shake your head. “Nothing, it’s just—” You bite your lips, hating the way your insecurities have always been able to come to the surface the moment you try to push against your boundaries, when you try to take risks like what you are doing tonight. But you simply cannot help it. The feeling is clawing at your chest that you can barely breathe. “You know you could’ve gotten home with someone else. Someone who isn’t—” 

You try to look away, yet Namjoon isn’t having it. With his fingers on your chin, he turns your face gently so you are forced to look at him again. “Is not—what?” 

Your throat feels tight and your mouth feels bitter when you answer, “Older. A single mom. A—” 

Namjoon presses his thumb on your lips to stop you from speaking further. “Remember what I told you earlier, and I really meant it,” he says, his gaze softening and heating up at the same time. “You are special. If you had said no to me tonight, I would’ve gone home alone, and spent the rest of the night finishing the last cans of beer I still have in my fridge or eating any frozen leftovers I could find before passing out on the couch.” 

You blink. His honesty surprises you, yet you would be lying if you told yourself that it doesn’t make you feel flattered to hear him choosing you. 

As if there is a switch inside you that has been flipped, everything fades to the back of your mind. All the voices that keep putting you down are silenced. The only thing left in your mind is the image of this gorgeous man spending his night alone in his quiet home, eating one of those boxed meals you saw peeking through his grocery bag and downing beers until he falls asleep, and you decide that you are not having it. 

Seems like you are not the only one who needs to take some risks tonight just to experience some changes in life. 

“Yep. That’s it. I’m sending you dinner next time.” 

Namjoon laughs. “What—?” 

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you pull him down to you and press your lips on his, putting his words—and your thoughts—to silence with a kiss. 

“I’m sorry for the mess. The perks of having little kids are always having too many things scattered around the house, and—” 

It is still surprising to see how easy and quickly you change depending on the moment. You keep going from Miss In Control to a more subdued figure filled with insecurities. Namjoon knows that he shouldn’t, but he is adamant about changing that tonight, even if it makes him feel a myriad of things inside when you show multiple sides of you at once. 

“It’s all right,” he cuts you off with a half smile, noticing how nervous you are getting about showing him your home. 

As you move aside to start taking off your shoes and coat, Namjoon kicks his own shoes off and takes a quick glance around. Most of the lights are off, yet he can still see through the dim lighting to see what he needs to see. 

Much like his own house, your place has an open space concept, where everything is visible from the foyer. He looks at the living room to his right, where the flat television hangs against the wall, surrounded by wooden shelves filled with books and trinkets and boxes filled with toys. To his left is the open kitchen, the room is slightly more spacious than his, and cleaner, with a hint of the scent coming from the last meal you cooked today still wafting through the air. 

Truth be told, he doesn’t mind at all about how the house looks like at the moment. He even thinks that your home feels comfy, more welcoming and lively than his own, which makes him feel good and warm inside as he steps onto the threshold of your home. 

Still, right now, he has other—more important—things to pay close attention to.  

Namjoon waits until you are done taking your coat off before approaching you. 

He places an arm around your shoulders, hinting at his need to get closer. When you show no sign of pushing him away, he pulls you towards him gently, and you willingly lean into him until you are engulfed completely in his warmth, and he feels your soft body pressing against his hard muscles. He bends down and your lips meet each other, warm and welcoming as they mesh into a kiss. 

For a split second, Namjoon can feel you hesitating. But then your arms come up to wrap around him before returning the kiss. It feels gentle and soft, yet Namjoon can feel every cell in his body lighting up at the touch, and he allows that hope he ignored before to rise as he melts into the kiss

Namjoon is a firm believer that a person can tell quite a lot about the other by the way they kiss, and that the first kiss will define how the night will continue. 

He feels you parting your lips slowly as your fingers curl into fists, balling the back of his shirt. He can taste the fruity taste of your lip-gloss which you put on during your toilet break before the two of you left the bar, and he can also taste a hint of the drink you had as he lightly brushes the tip of his tongue against yours. 

The simple contact earns a soft hum from your throat, and then you tip your head back and open your mouth, asking him for more. He gladly gives it to you as he slides one hand up your waist and cups your cheek, deepening the kiss. Your grip around him tightens when his tongue pushes past your lips, bringing heat all over your body and his as he devours your mouth, and you respond by pressing your hips into his. 

Feeling like he is burning from within, Namjoon starts to pull away. But you are not having it. You move your hand to his face, and then bring him back down until his lips are back on yours. You take charge this time, kissing him as if your very existence depends on it, and Namjoon smiles into the kiss as he follows your lead.  

Tonight is going to be a good night.

As your mind grows hazy from the heated kiss, you start stumbling back until you are pressed against the front door. 

It rattles under your weight, and starts making other noises when Namjoon presses harder against you the deeper the kiss you share. You feel his feet moving, sliding between your legs, only to stop when his toes come in contact with one of Hana’s squeaky toys that had somehow fallen in the foyer. 

You break away from the kiss at the sound of his deep chuckle. The way he seems more amused than he is annoyed pleases you so that your body grows impossibly hotter. How can something so simple as a guy chuckling over a simple kid toy, completely understanding it instead of getting angry and complaining over something so trivial—just like someone you once knew and wish so badly to forget—look so incredibly hot? 

Expecting to hear him say something about it, you lift your face to look at him, only for Namjoon to bend lower again and try to kiss your lips. Bunching his shirt with your fingers, you stop him and start pushing him through the dark hall and into the kitchen, where you know there won’t be any trail of toys getting in the way. 

Namjoon lets you drag him around with a grin on his face. It seems to please him that you are the one taking the initiative, showing him that you want him just as much as he does. 

As you push him deeper into the kitchen, your hands tracing his hard chest and your lips nipping his jawline, you wonder where all of this confidence is coming from. 

It could be coming from the buzz rushing through your mind and body. It could also be this want inside you which has been lying dormant for so long, awakened simply by the heat of his kiss. Either way, you are surprised to find how easy it is to simply give in. To follow what your heart desires as if it is guiding you through the motions. 

While most of the lights have been turned off when you left your house earlier, the light from the microwave is on, casting a soft, golden glow which falls nicely on him, accentuating every line—both on his face and his body—which you desire so badly to touch and kiss and taste. 

You pull him down for that desirable kiss, and he dives straight down, his lips crashing into yours. And then he starts kissing you fast, hard, as if his very existence depends on this kiss. You kiss him back with the same need, taking his lip between your teeth, drawing a soft sound coming out of his throat. His chest rumbles against yours as he gently pushes you backwards. 

Namjoon pins you against the kitchen counter, placing you between the hard counter and his rock-hard chest. He moves his knees between your legs, keeping them apart. You can feel his cock straining against his jeans as he bucks his hips forward, pressing roughly into your stomach. Then he moves his mouth to your neck, kissing, sucking, making you moan, distracting you from the object of his desire that you want so badly to touch.

Without unlatching his lips from your skin, Namjoon sweeps his fingers across your collarbone, finding the strap from your top that is already hanging off your shoulder. He pulls away, his dark gaze following his fingers as he unhooks the other strap off your shoulder until your top falls down to your waist, exposing your lacy dark purple bra which you had intentionally chosen for the night. 

He watches closely as your chest rises and falls with your ragged breath, murmuring softly, “Beautiful. You are so hot, baby.”

Your entire body shudders with the sound of his deep voice, recognising the hunger in it. Heat forms in your belly after knowing that his words are meant for you. He slowly walks his palms up your body, reaching up to cup your breasts with his strong palms. 

A moan slips out of your lips at his touch, when the gentle pressure he is giving on your mounds sends heated sparks through your body. The sound you are making seems to snap something in him, as he moves his mouth back to yours, kissing you softly, teasing, while his thumbs begin to move over your covered nipples in small circles. 

You draw a sharp inhale of breath at the delightful sensation he is making you feel, which is swallowed by his kiss. Your chest rises, pressing your breasts into his palms. The shiver running through your body feels so intense, blocking everything else as you push your tongue back into his mouth at the same time your hands slip under his shirt. 

His skin feels warm. His chest feels firm and broad. You can feel his breath hitching at the touch of your fingers, his body shivering as your hands start inching closer and closer to his cock as you walk them down his torso. 

It draws a deep groan from him, yet he keeps kissing you. He continues to caress your breasts until your nipples grow hard against his palms, and that is when he finally moves his hands down. You only get to pop the button of his jeans open before he catches your wrists, stopping you from going further as he brings them to your back, pinning them together to confine you. 

You push and strain against his grasp, only to fail when his hold is firm. Surprisingly, being restrained in his hold and losing control is not making you feel powerless. Instead, it becomes a complete turn-on to have someone taking control of you that your body heats up with a stronger need for more. 

Shocked at this revelation, you pull back with a gasp. 

“Let me touch you,” you whine as you try to pull your hands out of his, drawing a deep chuckle from him. 

“Not yet, baby,” he murmurs against your lips. “I want to see all of you first.”  

He kisses you again, deep enough to make you arch your back so your hips are pressed into his. You widen your legs and he presses forward, his toned thigh pressing at your pulsing center. The sensation you feel as you begin rubbing your covered pussy over his thigh feels explosive, and it is driving you insane that you cannot touch him at the same time. 

You feel him smiling in the kiss, clearly enjoying this; your desperation and need, and the way you are chasing for pleasure even under his restraint. He moves his mouth to your neck again, nipping at the skin. You try to twist your arm to set yourself free, but Namjoon lifts his head to stop you with a look. 

“These naughty hands need to stay back, baby. Do you hear me?” he asks as he guides your hands to rest against the small of your back, your wrists resting on the hard countertop pressing from behind you. 

Your mouth falls open, but every complaint and defiance that you want to give him fades under his dark gaze. Pulling away, Namjoon grabs the hem of your top and pulls it over your head, dropping it behind him, before he once again guides your hands to return to their position on your back. He leans back just enough for him to run his gaze over your body, giving you an appreciative look while humming softly. 

The heat of his gaze only brings back your insecurities, however, as you grow nervous under his trailing eyes, and you look away, casting a quick glance down your middle. Having two kids over the years has left a few things behind; light scars, stretch marks marring your skin, and uneven curves forming in places which you can only hide under your daily clothes. You realise only now one of the many reasons why you had never considered dating and being intimate again with someone—anyone—and much less have any interest in having hookups or one-night-stand. 

Namjoon notices the change of mood in your silence. He captures your chin and gently draws your gaze back to his face. “Don’t be shy,” he murmurs as he presses a light kiss on your lips, “You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

You blink, once again his words winning as you feel your heart strengthening, gaining back your confidence. “You really think so?” you ask him after taking an audible breath. 

“God, yes,” he says with a slight groan in his voice, drawing a soft giggle out of you. “Don’t you ever question it, baby.” 

Biting down your smile, your eyes flutter down with pleasure and relief. “Good.” 

“Now, where were we?” he asks as he lets go of your chin, his arms dropping to his sides. He reaches down to unbutton your tight pants, yet you beat him to it when you take the hem of his shirt in your hands and help him pull it off, before tossing it away out of reach. 

“Naughty girl. What did I say about those hands?” he asks, and then he is kissing you again to distract you from taking back control. 

He wraps his arm around your waist. For a second, you expect him to lift you up and set you up on the counter. Just like those scenes you have often read in the spicy romance book you have edited over the years. But then he surprises you when he lifts you up to carry you away, taking you towards the dining table instead. 

With your eyes fluttering close in the kiss, the only thing you notice is the sound of the chair scrapping on the floor, before he releases you and falls back. Your mind is hazy when you open your eyes, seeing him sitting back on the dining chair while guiding you to stand between his parted legs. 

Swaying a little, you lean into his touch as he sneaks his fingers down the waistband of your tight pants and begins pulling them down. “Let me see these off, baby.” 

He doesn’t have to say it twice, as you slip your thumbs down the band of your pants and begin wiggling it down your legs. You keep your eyes on him while kicking the pants away, ignoring the shudder running through your body at the heat of his gaze and the chill breeze falling on your exposed skin. 

Sneaking a glance down your body, you follow his gaze to be able to see what he is seeing. You are relieved that you had at least thought of choosing a matching pair of new undergarments to wear tonight, instead of wearing your old mismatched ones like you usually do when you have to rush in the mornings. 

Standing in front of him like this makes you feel self-conscious. But the desire that is so palpable in his eyes helps you ignore all unappealing thoughts you ever have about yourself. 

Smiling coyly to him, you sweep your hands up your stomach, slowly reaching up over your breasts. His hands begin to clench on his side as he watches you kneading your covered breasts. You watch him licking his lips when you press your breasts until they come together, offering him with a gentle voice, “Do you like what you’re seeing? Do you want me to take this off too?” 

“No, not yet. I want to enjoy seeing you like this a bit longer,” Namjoon answers you with a deep voice that sounds almost like a growl. “Come here.” 

At his gentle command, your legs move on their own, taking you closer to him. He grabs your waist, keeping you steady as you climb onto his lap, your legs spreading wide around his waist and your arms come around his broad shoulders. 

Being in this position allows you to feel everything. To feel more. 

Every part of him feels hard against your soft body. His warmth comes pressing on every inch of your skin, allowing you to feel the heat rushing under, pooling from between your legs. You feel exposed, and the sensation is intensified as you have your legs opened for him. 

Smiling, Namjoon walks his hand around your waist. With his palm splayed on your back, he gently pushes you forward. Once again, you collide into each other, your breasts are crushed against his chest, and your lips are entangled with his in a hard, needy kiss. 

His kiss is slow, gentle, almost languid. Almost as if he is trying to savour the moment, yet it feels as if you are melting into him. You can still feel him taking control of this moment when his lips are pressing hard against yours and his tongue slipping into your mouth to swallow the sounds you are making. 

In the rising pleasure, your brain is slowly turning into mush. Your eyes flutter close, and you revel in the sensations that he is bringing to your body, to every single touch and kiss. You drown yourself in his heated kiss, as he swallows your moans with his mouth and tongue. You lean into his strong hands as one moves up your stomach, cupping your breast and rubbing against your hardened nipple, and the other moves along the curves of your body, trailing down your waist to your hips, before cupping your soft bottom. 

His palm presses harder into your soft flesh, making you grow alert of your own movements, finally noticing that your body seems to have gained a mind of its own, moving and grinding his lap in the heat of the moment. 

Your covered center starts growing hot and wet as you keep rubbing against his hips. A gasp escapes your throat as you feel his covered hard-on pressing at your pulsing center. Using his palm, Namjoon guides your steady rocking, each thrust forward falling in tune with each thrust and stroke of his tongue in your mouth. 

Within moments, the heat inside your core rising into small waves of pleasure. Drunken in lust, you lean into him more to chase it, rocking harder, faster, pressing more into his hard cock until you feel like you are hanging on the edge of release. 

“Oh, God,” you gasp against his mouth, moments too close to your first orgasm. 

Namjoon mutters a curse, and his hands tighten on the soft flesh of your bottom, putting everything into a halt. He flips you around to face away from him, doing it with such ease as if you weigh nothing. As you fall back against his chest, your knees drape over his thighs, spreading wide, your throbbing pussy facing away from his heat, away from the its final release. 

“You need relief, baby?” His voice sounds thick as he whispers to your ear. Without waiting for your answer, his fingers zero in on the exact place where you need them to be, as he begins rubbing your clit from over your delicate panties. “Hmmm? I need you to answer me. Let me know what you want.” 

“Yes,” you hiss at his touch, barely able to answer his question while urging him on as you rock your hips into his touch. Namjoon’s other hand moves up to cup your breast, kneading and squeezing until you feel your nipple growing hard under your bra. The ache building on your breasts pulses in the same rhythm as the throbbing you feel building on your clit, which he presses the pad of his fingers onto, moving them in circles. 

“God, Namjoon,” you whine, already panting when he keeps touching all the right places, inciting all the reactions from your body as heat rises from your core. Reaching down, you place your hand over his, your fingers pressing atop of his strong digits as you press against them, causing his touch to grow firm and steady, before you slip your fingers under and slide your panties aside for him. 

Namjoon’s chest rumbles as he groans deeply. “Oh, yeah, that’s it, baby. Offer that sweet little pussy for me.” 

Your cheeks flush with warmth upon hearing his words, and then the warmth spreads through your body when his fingers move to touch your flesh. His fingers are big and strong, yet delicate at the same time. They glide over your slit, which has grown embarrassingly wet, capturing every essence of your arousal as he moves them between your folds. You press your pelvis down to meet his touch, urging him on, and he complies by working his middle finger inside you. 

It feels like forever since the last time you have had sex, and it surely shows because you can already feel your orgasm building the second he starts pumping his finger inside you. The pleasure feels maddening. Enough to make you lose control of yourself as your body rocks with him. You don’t even recognise the sounds coming out of your throat as you embrace the sensations he brings out of you. 

As he feels you giving in to the pleasure, Namjoon adds a second finger, stretching you further. 

Your head falls back on his shoulder as you cry out with pleasure. Your body falls lax against him, powerless against his touch. So he moves his other arm down, wrapping it around your waist to keep you from falling as he continues thrusting his fingers in and out, all while pressing the heel of his palm against your clit until you are weeping with desire. When he abruptly pulls his fingers out of you, your pussy clutches on emptiness. 

Needing friction, or something to relief this new need of yours, you begin pressing your wet mound against his thigh, intending to start rubbing against it until you find some kind of release. But Namjoon stops you by delivering a sharp slap, right between your legs. 

“Naughty,” he growls in your ear. “I thought this pussy is mine?” 

Your hips shoot up at the lingering ache, which awakens the throbbing inside your pussy, causing your mind to go fuzzy with the mixed of pain and pleasure he brings to your body. 

Namjoon spanks your pussy again, lighter this time, before going slightly harder when coming back for the third time. Then, as if he knows that you are about to explode, he shoves two fingers right back inside you and starts fucking you with them, moving hard and rough, no longer holding back. It feels intense, sending you light speed towards the peak of your pleasure. 

With a cry slipping out of your lips, your head falls back on his shoulder as the wave of pleasure engulfs you. Digging your nails into his forearms, you ride his fingers, bucking against each thrust of his hand, your walls clenching tightly around him, and your toes curling underneath. Your orgasm comes to you strongly, going on and on while Namjoon keeps his fingers wedged inside you, and you can feel your walls contracting around them as you come all over them. 

Dear God, help me. 

You find yourself praying. Never before had you ever lost control the way you do now. Never once have you ever felt so much pleasure, to make you feel something so intense that you feel like you are losing your mind. 

Namjoon waits until you come down from your release before easing his fingers out of you. Your body grows limp against his, causing him to wrap his arms tighter around you to hold you still. His lips find your shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss while he smooths your panties back in place. 

“That’s it, sweet mama. Relax with me,” he murmurs in your ear, helping you calm down before rearranging your position until you come to face him once more, your legs straddling his toned thighs, pressing against his muscles, his warmth, and the rapid pounding of his heartbeat under your palms.  

“Everything okay?” 

You are still too delirious that you can barely think straight, yet you manage to nod and whisper, “Yeah. Everything’s good.” 

Looking into his eyes, you reach down between your bodies and press your palm over his covered bulge. “But I’m not sure that you’re feeling the same.” 

Groaning deeply, Namjoon’s eyes flutter to close. You continue stroking his covered cock, feeling it hardening under your touch and pushing against his pants that is partly undone. “Keep touching me like that, mama. And I’ll fuck you right here, right now. Or I’ll take you right on top of that counter, right where you’ll be making breakfast for your sweet girls the first morning they’re home.” 

His threat draws a moan from deep within your throat. Biting your lips, you steal a glance towards the kitchen counter. As tempting as it sounds to follow your wanton desire, to be taken hard and rough right where you spend most of your days and mornings, you want something different. You don’t want this to end so quickly, for the night to feel so instant, and you want to savour this pleasure for as long as you are allowed to.  

“Mmm…No, we can’t have that,” you whisper, turning to him to nip his jaw, making him groan. Carefully, you step back from his lap. Your legs are trembling when you try to stand on your own, yet you muster a smile as you calmly say, “Come.” 

You hold out your hand and he grabs it as he rises to his feet. He follows you down the hall and up the stairwell. Past the landing which is surrounded by framed pictures of yourself with your family and your sweet girls and their creative drawings filling the walls, you continue walking upstairs, feeling more self-conscious the closer you get to your bedroom. 

Right before your nerves begin to get in the way, Namjoon’s arms come around you, holding you to his chest as you crash through the doorway to your bedroom. His lips capture yours, swallowing the sound of your laughter until you fall backwards on the bed. 

Standing on the foot of the bed, Namjoon stands tall, a solid figure standing at the center of your world of chaos. He says nothing as he runs his gaze over your body, appreciating what he sees one last time which brings back your confidence. All for knowing that he is liking what he sees. 

Drawn by the urge to touch him, to feel, you push yourself up and start tugging his pants down. “Off—” you murmur as you struggle to peel the damn thing off of him, earning his chuckle. Namjoon helps you halfway, stopping briefly to pull something out of his back pocket before he tosses his whole pants away. He wastes no more time to continue where he left off, as he pushes you back to the bed and lowers himself to you. 

Your arms go around his shoulders to welcome him. Your eyes meet each other again, allowing you to see something that you failed to notice before. Behind his heated gaze, the warm dimple smile, and the alluring words filled with his raw desire, lies another emotion haunting like a shadow. 

An emotion that you know too damn well as it mirrors your own. 

Desperation. 

Swallowing hard, you feel the same emotion coming out of you in strides; the desperation to belong and to be happy; to be able to move through life without being haunted by the unwarranted fear of getting hurt. The desperation to feel. 

Allowing that emotion to take over, you pull him down to you and kiss him deeply. You run your hands down his back, pressing at his spine until he lowers his hips onto yours. You can feel his hard cock pressing on you, its wet tip sticking out from the top of his briefs, rubbing against your skin. You regret not having the chance to have a look at it, to appreciate it through more than your dainty touch. Yet you cannot deny the desperate need to feel him inside you, filling you up until there is nothing left of you when he is done. 

Arching your back, you rock against him, pressing your tender center against his bulge. His mouth unlatches from yours, and then he pulls the lacy cups of your bra with a rough tug, tucking them under your breasts to push them up. He keeps his palms on them, touching them directly this time, skin to skin, bringing all the shudders back and rising twofolds as you cry out his name. 

His mouth finds your neck, and the touch of his lips is almost enough to make you come and unravel right there and then, yet you manage to hold back with a bite of your lip. Without taking his mouth off of you, Namjoon runs his hand down, finding your center and pressing down. The pleasure sparks through your body like fireworks as he rubs in circles against your covered center, pressing against your slit, rubbing at your covered clit, and then finding your wetness to draw out more essence out of you. 

Every nerve in your body comes awake and lights up at the same time, allowing you to feel everything that he is giving you. Engulfed in the pleasure, you barely feel him as Namjoon starts moving down, spreading his fingers down your thighs to part your legs for him, before plunging his head between your quivering thighs. 

You feel a soft tug at your panties, and then cold breeze touches your skin as Namjoon slides the center of your panties aside, exposing your tender pussy. “I wanted to taste you so badly,” he murmurs against your skin as he presses his lips on the apex of your thigh, then he moves to the other side, before reaching to the center, drawing a sharp cry out of you when he presses a kiss right at your folds. 

His tongue drags through your flesh before he sucks gently on your swollen bud. A shiver shoots right up through your body as pleasure sparks from beneath, and he starts fucking you with his tongue. In and out he presses and licks with his warm, soft tongue, tasting your essence with a deep hum, while his mouth keeps stealing a kiss and sucking, intensifying the pleasure. 

With your hands sinking into the sheets beneath you, your hips begin to move, rocking against his mouth and riding the sensation as it grows more and more intense. You lift your head to watch him work. The look he gives you when he returns your gaze causes your body to twitch, your muscles tightening as pleasure coils through your core. 

With a grin, Namjoon buries his face deeper, his teeth grazing at your clit before lapping at the swollen bud with his tongue to take away the pinch of pain. The sensation sends your body falling back. Still rocking your hips to ride the pleasure, you twist the sheets in one hand, and then take a handful of his short hair with the other. 

It doesn’t take long before the familiar wave of pleasure starts rolling through your body, rising intensely from the depth of your core. Your breath quickens as you are climaxing into his mouth. It comes so strongly that you can feel it rushing all the way down to your toes. A series of breathless moans come out of your lips at the same pace as the pulses of pleasure coming alight from inside as your orgasm rolls through your body. 

Your head is ringing with the waves of your orgasm that you barely aware of how you are pulling at his hair, twisting the short strands in your grasp as you writhe beneath him. Yet he doesn’t stop. Not even when he feels you slowly coming down from your high. 

Namjoon continues to lap at your taste, licking away your release as he murmurs gently against your mound, “Fuck, you taste so damn good, baby.” 

His voice fades in and out of you, until he slips a finger inside you, pressing against your inner walls. He pushes right in, curling the tip as he pulls out, finding the sweet spot that sends another jolt of pleasure through your body. Realising this, he adds another finger and starts working them at the same rhythm as the movement of his tongue. Your legs begin shaking, your hips are rising against his other palm that is resting on your lower belly to keep you down, but nothing holds you from erupting as the force of your second orgasm quickly rolls through you, sending you over the edge with a cry. 

You feel a shift on the bed as Namjoon moves on top of you and presses his lips on yours. The remnants of your orgasm is still pulsing through you, and your ears are still ringing, that you can only take what he is giving you, letting him bring you back to the present with his kiss. 

Once you manage to catch your breath, you bring your hands up to him and start pushing his briefs down his hips. He rises slightly from you, taking away his weight and his warmth as he kicks his briefs down his ankle and away. His hand reaches down, wrapping his fingers around his hard girth. 

This time, you take the chance to appreciate his beauty. Just like his hard body, his cock seems beautiful, big and thick and heavy even in his strong palm. 

With his eyes on your face, Namjoon begins lowering himself on you. Your hips rise to welcome him when you feel his cock falling heavy on your stomach. Your hand reaches down between you, as if you are under a spell. Your fingers wrap around him, drawing a soft gasp from his lips. 

Licking your lips, you watch yourself giving him a few light strokes. He seems to enjoy this, as his hips slowly move to return each stroke, each brush of your palm with a thrust of his cock. Groaning deeply, Namjoon bends down to cover you with his hard body. His lips find your neck, kissing the column of your throat as his fingers return to your mounds, pressing into your slit and using the slickness of your arousal and release to move around your entrance. 

“Namjoon, please—” Your breath catches when you feel the tip of his finger pressing at your entrance, pushing against your sensitive walls. He enters you slowly with his fingers. It feels delightful, yet you are ready to feel more. “Mhhh…not enough,” you whine breathlessly, “I want you…inside…now.” 

He chuckles against your throat, and the vibrations you feel coming from his body aren’t exactly helping to lessen the pool of desire between your legs, nor the tight clench of your walls around his fingers. He gives your pussy a few more thrusts of his fingers before he pulls them out, and reaches out to the other side of the bed. 

The soft crinkle sound of a foil gets your heartbeat speeding up in your chest. It’s happening, the voice in your head whispers. Excitement rolls through you, and a wicked through flashes through your head when you meet his gaze again. 

You bite your lip and smile, and then you lift your hands, pushing against his shoulders to bring him down onto the mattress. You follow him as he falls back, and then you climb on top of him, enjoying the thrill rushing through you when you see the shock clearly flashing through his gaze. 

He grips your hips as you straddle him, keeping you steady until you are sitting in the right position. So right that you can feel his hard cock pressing at your slick center from beneath. 

“Well, damn,” he chuckles as he watches you press down your hips on him. “That’s it. Take control, mama. Show me what you want from me.” 

You make a humming sound as you begin rocking over him, pressing down against his length. Your panties have grown completely soiled, placed improperly over your mound that you can feel him partly rubbing against your skin. “You know what I want,” you whisper, moaning when you feel his girth rubbing at your clit. 

Hoping to feel more, you continue rocking, rubbing your center along the length of his cock. But it isn’t enough. The panties keep getting in the way just when you are close to getting what you want. You reach down to begin peeling the damn thing off of you when Namjoon takes over. 

“Let me help you with that,” he says, before he suddenly lifts himself up to a sitting position. His hands are quick to catch your waist to stop you from falling back, keeping you on his lap as he moves his hand to your back.

His eyes look down on your heaving chest, and then his hands are pulling at your undergarments. Starting from your bra, as he expertly peels it off of you within a blink of an eye, then continuing to reach down. The ripping sound of your panties as they fall apart fills the room before you can feel yourself being freed from its presence. The strong pull that he gives on the flimsy fabric barely feels like anything on your skin, your mind too muddled to process it until it is too late. 

The moment it dawns on you what is happening, there is nothing else that you can do but to watch with wide eyes, mouth gaping in shock, as Namjoon lifts your ruined panties to his lips and breathes in.

“You won’t be needing them for a while,” he says with a hum at the sound of your sharp inhale of breath.   

“You’re so bad.” An incredulous laugh comes out of you as he tosses the tattered panties away. 

His hands return to your waist then and he pulls you closer, settling you down nicely on his lap as he asks, “Maybe I am. Are you going to punish me for being a bad boy?” 

“Maybe I will,” you tease him as you run your fingers up his chest, pushing him back down. “Naughty boy.” 

The glimmer of the foil he is holding between his fingers catches your attention. You pick it up, ripping the foil and letting the rubber fall on your palm. “Is this okay?” 

He nods, and then his eyes darken as you gently slide the condom down the length of his cock. Your can feel him twitching under your touch, his head falling back briefly with a groan coming out of his throat when the tips of your fingers meet his skin. Once he is perfectly covered, you move back into position. 

Namjoon gently guides you back over him, straddling him once again without anything else getting in the way this time. 

You lean forward and place a kiss on his lips, one that feels a bit too sweet and shy. For a moment, your confidence wanes. Being on top of him, unrestrained, and being in complete control makes you feel subconscious with yourself. It makes you feel insecure, suddenly feeling worried that you might not be enough. 

As you sit up, your pussy rocks against his cock. You can feel his girth pressing against the dampness which has been growing between your legs, the heat of his body radiates from him and it transfers through your body with each pulse of his blood that you feel against you. 

His fingers find their place between your legs, rubbing your clit in slow circles, drawing moans after moans, shudders rolling through your body that you begin moving in response to his touch. Your hips buck up against his hand, desperate for friction. You continue rolling your body as he presses just a bit harder, drawing yet another moan from your lips that comes together with the intense shiver surging from your core. 

Enjoying the way you are reacting to him, he rises up to steal a kiss, chuckling softly against your mouth when he feels the twitch of your hips when his cock is pressing harder against your folds. He pulls back, showing you his wicked grin that has your heart beating rapidly. 

You lift your hips, and he reaches down to position his cock against your opening. Your body instantly trembles when you feel him nudging against your pussy, spreading your entrance to allow himself in. Then you begin to slide down on him, taking it slow as you take his cock inside you, inch by delicious inch. Your legs quiver around him as you feel him spreading your tight walls, yet you welcome him with a slow moan, allowing yourself to take him deeper as you continue going down, until he is almost fully inside you and you are nearly resting on his hips. 

A pulse rocks through you once, and you carefully lift yourself up, sliding up his length and coming back down, getting deeper in your descent. 

“You are so perfect,” he whispers to you as you continue riding his cock, keeping a slow pace as you adjust yourself to his size. 

Namjoon falls back, letting you take control. Something that no other person has ever done before. He keeps his eyes on you as you continue moving on top of him, sliding up and down the length of his cock, while embracing the waves of pleasure that you get to feel from your constant rocking. His eyes are filled with admiration as he watches you move, your head falling back at the height of your pleasure, your chest arching, showing him the sight of your shaking breasts. 

“You are so fucking hot,” he moans, taking your breasts in his hands. You relish every single sensation you are feeling with a moan. It feels incredible. Not just this—the sex, the feeling of him being buried inside your heat, filling you up and giving you pleasure—but also for feeling like you are free. 

Sitting naked on top of such a gorgeous man, rocking up and down his cock, enjoying the pleasure without your nerves getting in the way, your insecurities left forgotten. It feels so damn empowering to be owning up to your sexuality, to your wanton desire, after having it denied for so long. All because of your haunting past making you feel like you are less than the person you are now. 

These thoughts push you to ride him harder, faster, your fingers sinking into the sheets on either side of him to anchor you against him, while his fingers grow tighter on your hips to help you ride him to chase your pleasure. 

“That’s it, baby,” he urges you on with a breathy voice, deep groans slipping out of him when you begin fucking him wildly. “Go on, let it go, mama.” 

Holding you up against him, Namjoon begins rocking his hips, thrusting up to meet you in your descend. The maddening pleasure rocks through you, and another wave of climax sets off, coiling from your core, up to your lower belly. And right as you are ready to plunge into your climax, Namjoon bends forward, capturing one of your nipples with his mouth and begins sucking, while he reaches up to pinch the other with his fingers. 

With a sharp cry, you unravel completely without fail. Your orgasm comes to you not in waves but an explosion, the pain only intensifies the pleasure as it hits, and your body trembles as you embrace it. 

Everything fades in and out as your mind and body recovers from the intense high. Your legs are quivering too much that you fall onto his chest, and Namjoon carefully flips you to the side until you are on your back. Ears once again ringing, the sounds of him moving on the sheets seem so distant. But you can feel the dip when he lowers himself on you, his lips finding yours, bringing you back, and then pressing against your neck to quiet down the rapid pulsing of blood surging under your skin. 

Once your mind regains clarity, you notice his hand moving. You open your eyes when you cannot feel his touch, and realise that he is giving himself some lazy strokes. “You haven’t gotten yours,” you whisper with a raspy voice, and his grin returns. 

“You’ve already came too many times, so—” 

Shaking your head, you reach up and pull him back to you. “I can’t be the only one feeling good tonight,” you insist as you capture his lips, enticing him with a light bite. As he returns the kiss, your legs spread open for him, welcoming him back to you. “I want to make you feel good too.” 

Groaning, Namjoon deepens the kiss. Still stroking himself, he uses the other hand to gently touch your tender pussy, making sure that you won’t hurt if he continues. “Are you sure?” he murmurs against your lips, before feeling you nod. 

Unable to wait long, he quickly gets between your legs again. He covers you with his heat, his toned chest pressing down against your body, delightfully engulfing you with his warmth. Then his hips rock forward, pressing the wet tip of his stiff cock against your pulsing heat. Your back arches the moment you feel him pushing, just enough until you feel the tip penetrating your entrance.

“Namjoon—” you gasp out his name, and his hands come down to your hips, holding you still as he enters you, thrusting deep and slow. 

Your legs are spread wider, giving him room to get as deep as he possibly can until your hips are flushed against each other. 

Fuck yes, you can hear yourself screaming in your head, while your mouth gapes open with a breathless moan at how full you are feeling with him snugged inside your pussy. 

“God, fuck—you feel amazing,” he breathes out as he too becomes still. 

Your body clenches around his cock at hearing his words, loving how his praise is stroking at your ego. It seems that your body has gotten used to him so well that he feels like a perfect fit inside you. 

“You don’t feel too bad yourself,” you playfully tease him, making him groan deeply that you can feel his entire body vibrating all the way to your core. 

“Not bad, huh?” he groans, almost sounding feral when he continues his gentle rocking. “Guess I’ll have to stop holding back, then.” 

With a groan, he pulls back almost all the way out and thrusts back into you, rocking both of you against the mattress as he fucks you into it. You grab tightly on the messy sheets beneath you, already tangled by the previous rocking and fucking and growing even messier now that he is picking up pace immediately. It feels intense, making you feel delirious as he moves in and out of you rapidly. And it feels so damn good that you just don’t want it to stop. 

“Oh, baby...so perfect,” he gasps, and you open your eyes to see his eyes glazing over with pleasure as he gets lost in your body. 

It turns you on so badly to see a man unraveling this way—to be so lost in his pleasure and growing feral as he gives in completely to the sensation. At the same time, it makes you feel powerful, knowing that you are the one making him this way. For someone like him to let his guard down and show you the real part of him. To let you see how raw and passionate he becomes when he is bringing pleasure to both of your bodies. 

It makes you feel so hot, and it feels so good, that it practically sends you straight into your final climax. To unravel the same way he does at the pleasure of his lovemaking. 

“Keep tightening around me like that, and I won’t last long,” he warns you, while you can only hold back a grin. As if you will take his words like you would to a threat. 

You run your hands up his chest, feeling up his toned muscles as they strain with each thrust he is giving you, before you reach up to the back of his neck and grab a handful of his short hair. A smile grows on your face when he lets out another groan, and his hips nearly buckle and twitch as his rocking begins to grow haste. 

He’s close. 

“Oh, fuck. I’m coming,” he groans, although it almost sounds like he is shouting.

“Yes, please. Come with me. I’m also there,” you whimper breathlessly when your orgasm starts to build. 

His grip on your hips tightens as he begins pumping into you fast and hard, hitting all the right spots. You almost believe that he is also growing firmer, harder, bigger, that the only thing you can feel is him, rubbing against your throbbing walls and pushing you over the edge. 

A scream slips out of you when the orgasm hits like a massive wave. Your back is almost lifted completely off the bed as your entire body vibrates with pleasure. You can hear him shouting under the sound of your rapid heartbeat, before you feel him pulsing, spilling his heat into you as he joins you in his own orgasm. 

Your legs are wrapped around his hips while your arms are hooked around his neck as you hold onto him, refusing to let go as you relish the waves of your orgasm until they begin to settle. You have barely gotten back control of your breathing when he leans down, capturing your lips into a kiss. 

The kiss is slow, almost languid, and just as gentle as the movement of his hands as he runs them down your sweaty body. You can still the spasms of your climax lingering as he slowly pulls out of you, allowing you to feel his presence even as he pulls away, dropping right beside you with a soft grunt. 

Your eyes are already fluttering to close while he takes his time taking care of his soiled condom and tossing it away to the trash. Yet you are still coherent when he returns, engulfing you in his strong arms, filling your breath with his scent. 

“That was fucking amazing,” he mumbles against your skin as you feel his lips pressing on your bare shoulder. 

“Hmm…yes, it was…” 

A sigh leaves your lips. The content feeling weaving through your body steals the words that you want so badly to say. 

Incredible. Astounding. 

“Magical,” you find yourself whispering, drawing a soft chuckle from him. 

You look at him through your hazy eyes, finding him looking back at you with a different shadow lingering in his gaze which makes you want to say the words that you never expected you would say to him. 

Stay the night. 

The words die on your tongue as sleep is slowly dragging you down. You try to fight it, even if you aren’t quite sure about saying those words out loud. You have no idea what will come out of this. All you can think about is that you don’t want this to end too soon. 

“The girls are out all weekend, aren’t they?” His voice breaks the silence, forcing you to open your eyes. 

“Yes, they’re staying at their grandparents. I won’t have to pick them up until Monday afternoon,” you breathlessly answer, recalling faintly how your mother had offered to take Suzy to school and Hana to kindergarten so you wouldn’t have to drive all the way to her house on a Sunday, expecting you to sleep through your hangover and spend the day resting. “Why are you asking?” 

“I just wasn’t sure how they would react coming home to find a grown-ass man snuggling with their mom.” He softly chuckles, and in a brief moment of silence, you see a different look appearing in his eyes. A part of him that seems more vulnerable coming out of him in waves, right before he asks you, “Unless you want me out of here?” 

Once again, you can see yourself in his gaze. To once again share the same emotions, the same vulnerability which feels too damn familiar. Deep down, you start wishing that you didn’t see it. Because seeing this side of him only makes you care a lot more than you should for someone who is only supposed to be your one-night-stand. Because seeing it only makes you want more. 

You close your eyes and try not to think too deeply about it. Not when your mind is still muddled from the wild sex you just had with him. And when his touch is still lingering on your skin. 

You can worry about this tomorrow, you hear the same small voice in your head whispering, and you decide that you are going to listen this time. 

Pushing yourself up, you pull the blanket from the foot of the bed and drag it up to cover both of your nakedness before sliding back to him. “Nope, you’re staying,” you firmly say as you tuck him in. “I promised to make you dinner, but I really don’t have any energy left to leave the bed right now, so you can make it up by helping me make breakfast tomorrow.” 

Namjoon laughs. He visibly relaxes beside you when he mutters, “I love it when you boss me around.” 

You stop to look at him, biting your lips before asking, “Would you mind if I keep doing that?” 

His smile softens, and the alluring dimple returns for a brief second as he leans in to kiss your temple. “Boss me around anytime, mama. I’ll be good. I promise.” 

Author’s Note 2.0 | Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this story, please leave a like and reblog to share with your friends and let me know what you think. See you in the next one! PS. You can get to know Jin the bartender and read his story in Blurred Lines.  Update | you can read more in the short story: Dinner with Mista Joonie

— ©Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind, translations, unsanctioned adaptations are not allowed.

[theereina]

Buy Her Books📚 and Eat Her Pussy🐈

Pairing: Erik "Killmonger" Stevens x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +1.9K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, heavily dialogue-centered, use of Daddy, Mama, and other pet names (lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, etc.), oral (female receiving), spanking, Dom!Erik, orgasm denial, pure filth

A/N¹: This is a single one-shot with no planned sequels.

A/N²: I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

Of course, Erik didn't know the monster he created. Last night, he had given his girlfriend Amelia his credit card and told her to buy her books. Amelia was immediately struck by decision fatigue. Her TBR list was well over 100 books at this point. When she whined about not knowing what books to choose, Erik told her to buy them ALL. Amelia initially laughed at Erik, not taking a word he said seriously; however, the look he gave her let her know he was beyond serious.

He had given her the card the night before. She sat up all night anxiously going through her TBR. She narrowed the list to 52 must-haves and 67 maybes, not including the 34 she deleted after reading the recent reviews.

Amelia had spent all morning in her favorite local bookstores and Barnes & Noble. She became flustered once she started realizing how much she would be paying. So, she called Erik and asked for his “approval” again. He responded with a laugh and comment about letting her do it again. This had Amelia excited at the thought.

While in the stores, she would first search for the books on her must-haves. Then, she would look for the maybes. She would scan over the synopsis and maybe the first page before deciding. She did this same routine in every store she went into.

After such a strenuous morning, Amelia was exhausted but excited upon returning home. She knew exactly the book she wanted to read first. She had showered and changed back into her nightgown. She climbed onto the bed and searched through the hoard of books. Amelia had tried her best to keep the books separated by genre to help her sort them.

There it was— a book she had wanted since its release five months ago. Amelia was back in her happy place as she lay on her tummy across Erik's bed, facing the headboard. She held the book and began kicking her feet in bliss. She opened the book and began to read the prologue before remembering that she didn't want any distractions. She grabbed her phone and placed it on DND. Tossing her phone somewhere behind her, she began to read again.

4 hours later

Unbeknownst to Amelia, hours had passed. Many hours. Her phone was still on DND, so she was unaware of Erik's 13 missed calls and 8 unread text messages. Unfortunately, she also didn't know he was on his way home.

As Amelia lay reading, Erik arrived at his home. He was pissed. Amelia had ignored him all day. He was a little paranoid about these kinds of situations considering the life he lived before meeting her.

Erik unlocked the door quietly checking for any signs of forced entry. He slowly crept through the house. As he approached the back rooms, the only light visible was coming from under his bedroom door. He could hear what sounded like Amelia laughing, but he was too unsure. He unsheathed his Glock and held it in his hands. As he inched closer to the door, he quieted his steps. Putting his stealth skills to use, he leaned against the door using the weight of his body to stop it from creaking as he opened it.

Awaiting him was an exhausted Amelia. She was facing away from him still completely unaware of his presence. He had always told her she had the self-awareness of a toddler.

He slowly placed his gun into his waistband. Trying his hardest not to startle or alert her to his presence, he crept up to the foot of the bed. He grabbed Amelia's left foot and dragged her to the edge of the bed. “Princess!” Erik says flipping Amelia over onto her back causing the book to slip from her hands. “Erik!” she screamed. She was still unsure how this man could toss her around so easily.

“Busy?” he asked folding his arms across his chest. “Umm…,” Amelia said sitting on her knees at the edge of the bed. She leaned up to give Erik an apologetic kiss. “Where's your phone?” he asked uncrossing his arms.

Amelia turned around and began searching for the phone in the bed. Piles of books were everywhere— an assortment of thrillers, romance, erotica, mystery, fantasy, and more. She knew it was there somewhere. She found it and looked at the screen. 13 missed calls and 8 unread text messages from “Daddy😈”. She turned back around to see Erik cracking his knuckles.

Uh oh

“So, you were reading all day? Is that why you were ignoring me, baby girl?” Erik said caressing her cheek. “Yes, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I just really…” she said putting her hands on his shoulders. “That's unacceptable, and you know that,” he said putting his right hand on the side of her neck. He used his thumb to stroke over the front of her throat., teasing her. Amelia swallowed because she knew what was coming— a punishment fit for his princess.

Erik stood there staring at Amelia's throat. “Where's the book you were just reading?” Erik asked stilling his movements. She pointed behind her to the only opened book on the bed. She was growing anxious by the second. Amelia began to whimper in desperation, trying to craft a scheme to escape this.

Erik's eyes shot up to meet Amelia's now brimming with tears. “Amelia, baby?” Erik lulled. “Yes, Daddy?” she asked hoping this would absolve her of her discretions. Considering that it was an honest mistake, she hoped he would be lenient. “Shut that shit up,” he said in the most level tone. He didn't raise his voice a decibel, but Amelia knew.

“Since you wanna read so much, read to me. I wanna see what's got you so distracted,” Erik said leaning over grabbing the book and handing it to Amelia.

4 orgasms denials later

Amelia was fighting for her life. Erik was eating her out from the back and forcing her to read the book aloud simultaneously. Every time she slipped up or stopped he lit her ass up like a Christmas tree.

His tongue sliding up and down her folds over and over again was driving her insane. She continued to read while breathing out ragged breaths. He was positioned right behind her on the bed. His tongue was warm and slick from her juices.

Erik leaned up and sat directly between her legs. He used his arms to flip Amelia over onto her back in one swift move. She yelled out in shock. Amelia looked down pleading to Erik with her eyes. He scoffed at her attempt to use her puppy dog eyes against him. He sat back and looked at Amelia's sloppy pussy and swollen clit. He took his hand and slid it up and down her slit, coating his fingers in her cum.

He brought his hand to his mouth and began to suck on his fingers. Amelia stopped to stare at Erik in awe. Without even losing focus on his task at hand, he used his other hand to smack Amelia's already swollen clit. “I didn't tell you to stop!” he barked while removing his fingers from his mouth. Amelia tried to continue reading but could feel Erik shifting between her legs.

Amelia turned the page and peeked under the book. She could see Erik's hand lining up with her pussy again. She felt his middle and index fingers slide into her wet pussy with a squelch. She moaned out and clenched her pussy around his fingers. He began to drive his fingers upward against her g-spot. He was merciless while fingerfucking her.

She started stuttering and closed her eyes too caught up in bliss. Erik used his free hand to smack the outside of her thigh. The sound echoed through the room. The thickness of her thighs provided no cushion for the blows he was dishing out. If anything, it was giving him more to work with. Her ass was already obliterated— red, swollen, and covered in welts.

They had been at this for almost an hour because of how well he was dragging out his teasing. She was tired of being denied but knew she held no power in this situation. All she could do was take it.

He leaned over Amelia's body pushing her knees up to her chest. How did he expect her to read like this?

His fingers were still punishing her pussy. He looked at Amelia and began to speak, “I don't hear you!” Amelia tried to read, but she felt like her voice was strained. The way he had her folded in half with his body holding her legs and thighs in place was making it hard to breathe. “Daddy, please. I can't…,” she whined out. “You can, and you fuckin' will. Do you hear me?” Erik said slowing his fingers down inside of her. He knew Amelia's weakness— slow strokes and deep pokes. He was using his fingers to massage her insides. He was kneading her pussy like dough.

Erik's heavy breathing was overshadowed by the sounds of Amelia's moans and her pussy squelching. It sounded like someone was flicking their fingers under a running faucet. Amelia dropped the book on her stomach, and Erik's hand instantly smacked her thigh twice. “Pick…it…the…fuck…up!!!” Erik growled through gritted teeth.

Amelia reached for the book. She tried her best to continue to read as Erik's fingers drove her insane. Erik lifted her left leg and pushed it back against her chest. He angled his body so that he was slightly to the side of Amelia's body. He leaned over and began to suck her clit while continuing to finger her pussy.

The words were leaving her mouth, but she wasn't attempting to comprehend or remember what she read. Erik removed his fingers and replaced them with his tongue. He moved so that his face was right between Amelia's legs. His tongue thrust inside her pussy. “Fuck. I'm… I'm gonna… Oh, I'm ‘bout to cum!” Amelia screamed. “Oh, really? I don't…remember you…askin’ me..for shit!” Erik said in between licks. “May I please cum? I can't take it anymore!” Amelia said her eyes filled with tears. “You betta!” Erik said slapping her clit with his free hand.

That was all it took to push Amelia over the edge. Her legs locked onto Erik as her belly seized. Her juices flooded Erik's fingers as he pushed them back in, leaking all over his hand and down his arm. He opened his mouth and covered her pussy so that he could catch everything. Amelia's moans turned to pained grunts. She was done.

Erik released his mouth from her pussy. He let go of her thick thighs causing them to fall like dead weights onto the bed. Amelia pulled her legs away from Erik and rolled over onto her side. He smacked her ass cheek while grabbing it roughly. “Good girl. You gone ignore Daddy again?” He asked leaning over to kiss Amelia's shoulder. “No, sir,” Amelia mumbled. “That's what the fuck I thought!” Erik replied standing from the bed.

“Get some rest, princess. Daddy's not done with you yet,” Erik said removing his shirt and heading towards the bathroom. “What?” Amelia said, jolting up from the bed. “Dafuck did you just say to me?” Erik snapped spinning around to meet Amelia's weak and apologetic eyes. “Nothing,” Amelia said as she let her head hit the bed again. “Since you got so much mouth, you got an hour. I know exactly what the next punishment is,” Erik said grinning.

Taglist: @kirayuki22 @revealingco @nahimjustfeelingit-writes